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Hollywood Holiday
I rode my motorcycle through a watermelon patch
Right on the california freeway
I took my holy Bible on my blessed boogie woogie drive
Cause I know I know I know
Where I go oh lord theyre gonna bless me jive
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
I parked my motorcycle on hollywood and vine
And sang till my red blood turned boiling blue
I took my sole survival and bore my cross on a string
Cause I know I know I know
What I dear I bear my charm to king
Poor you poor me
Poor everybody who buy to be
Poor me poor you
Poor everybody who die to do
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nouveau Riche
I’d rather be a nouveau riche
than some impoverished veteran.
I’m looking for a nouveau niche
that’s hopefully a better ’un
than that which I now occupy,
without resources that the rich
have, whether old or nouveau––I
don’t really think it matters which.
Too long I’ve been a nouveau poor.
It isn’t fun, you don’t get used
to poverty, the only cure
that gives my poverty a boost
is taking out new credit cards
that have a pleasing plastic glow,
ignoring all the crass canards
I hear from those to whom I owe
a fortune. They must know I won’t
repay them––can’t when nouveau poor!
Repayment cannot be my wont
till I have nouveau riche allure
to help me keep up with expenses,
impoverished by nouveau schemes.
Till creditors come to their senses
I can’t fulfill my nouveau dreams,
a man who, though a nouveau poor,
would rather he were nouveau riche,
though unrealistic, to be sure,
more real than those men who eat quiche.
12/27/99,3/30/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Poor You
Poor you. You have nothing so you say. So I spit my pity your way. Can you feel the sincerity of it. It so god damn pathetic. No will, no strength, no ambition. Another dead soul who believes they have no control. Lies from the inside out. So angry all i want to do is shout. But it becomes a mere whisper in the grand schemes of things. Poor you, with a little sugar on top. The world is just f*cked up. Is that what you think? Are you suicidally on the brink. Well by all means pick your poison and drink. Cause i know better. So write that letter. Saying it every bodies fault. Guess what I'm not sorry for any of it except the air your wasting. Time to realize life is what you make it. Wake up, you cant mourn yourself. No more poor you. The gum loses it flavor. Time for something new. Make it happen. Create a chain reaction. A chemical explosion. Destiny calls us all. Will you answer? Will you become another midnight dancer. Party it up with a new found sense of being. A glance into what you can be achieving.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I Go For Simplicity My Friend
i go for simplicity my friend
because i am poor
i do not go for sophistication
because i am poor
i do not complicate matters
because i am poor
i do not want you to misunderstand
because i am poor
i do not want you to think some more
because i am poor
i do not want to convince you
because i am poor
i do not want you to be with our side
because we are poor
i want all things in their simplified forms
because we cannot afford
any other form of convolutions
we cannot afford another revolution
it will be expensive
and we have no more years to give
to pay for the sponsors
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Scandalous Decisions
Unleashed are the demons...
On the prowl to defeat,
Signs of correctness.
Replacing defects...
Implanted.
Scandalous decisions,
Are now under attack.
And these demons want their exclusions...
Kept in secret.
But their deceit,
Has some setbacks.
They've been caught and running from their own misdeeds.
And none of them can believe it's time to leave...
Behind their schemes of treason.
Caught and running from their own misdeeds.
And none of them can believe it's time to leave...
Behind their schemes of treason.
Bullying has lost magic.
And building up fears just-to-feed-a greed.
Has got some demons pleading.
The rights of all are doomed!
And gloom is what's ahead for those trusting...
For others to remove their lusts!
They've been caught and running from their own misdeeds.
And none of them can believe it's time to leave...
Behind their schemes of treason.
Caught and running from their own misdeeds.
And none of them can believe it's time to leave...
Behind their schemes of treason.
Scandalous decisions,
Are now under attack.
And these demons want their exclusions...
Kept in secret.
But their deceit,
Has some setbacks.
They've been caught and running from their own misdeeds.
And none of them can believe it's time to leave...
Behind their schemes of treason.
Unleashed are the demons...
On the prowl to defeat,
Signs of correctness.
Replacing defects,
Implanted.
And...
Soured demons try,
To disenchant these days.
They've been caught and running from their own misdeeds.
And none of them can believe it's time to leave...
Behind their schemes of treason.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grievous Sins Of Man
raping the earth
killing the trees
molesting the creeks
stealing the fruits
shooting the birds
depleting the forest
converting them
to golf courses
polluting the air
and space with
so much noise
swindling the natives
lording over the poor
get rich quick-schemes
nuclear war heads
pulverizing everything
silencing the people
falsely testifying to the
sun, the stars and the moon.
the worst:
not doing anything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Almost all the noblest things that have been achieved in the world, have been achieved by poor men; poor scholars, poor professional men, poor artisans and artists, poor philosophers, poets, and men of genius.
quote by Albert Pike
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Party lines
We collect funds on their names
Spend it on some other means
Poor suffer on many accounts
Nothing is reaching to them as an amount
All the schemes are for their well being
May be the real intent but not enough of doing
If whole of iceberg is earmarked
Only small piece may reach as marked
Not an ordinary human being may watch
The bread and other things being snatched
By a person who has no right to take away
Much awaited relief which has disappeared on the way
Life has become difficult to pull on
Not easy to find square meal and carry on
Many commit suicide and many resort to crimes
It is really termed as bad times
Government work on party lines
Population and other factors are put on sidelines
They have fixed time to function with mandate
They compromise on many things and accommodate
Large fund is laundered and sent out side
For family staying abroad to provide
The precious foreign currency for personal use
And poor at country side face simple refusal
There may be some difficulties
Legal hitch and poor fund utilities
Yet effective monitoring is their obligation
People in street may know nothing about situation
Let some facilities be availed by poor
Lt they not run from door to door
We are paying taxes for their upliftment
No one should come in their way at any moment
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A Small Plot Of Land
Poor soul
Spit upon that
Poor soul
He never knew what hit him
And it hit him so
Poor dunce
He pushed back the pigmen
The barbs laughed
The fool is dead
Poor dunce
Hes less than within us
The brains talk
But the will to live is dead
And prayer cant
Travel so far these days
The talk of your life
Standing so near
To innocent eyes
Poor dunce
Swings thru the tunnels
And claws his way
Is small life so manic
Are these really the days
Poor dunce
Poor dunce
Poor soul
Poor soul
Poor soul
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Little Girl
Poor Little Girl
Nobody cares what she does
She only lives what she was
In her mind reliving thoughts of yesterday
‘til she finds she knows her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
Why can’t she love what she’s seen
People don’t want her to’ve been
Wasting time and living in her yesterday
‘til she finds she knows her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
Her heart will shoulder
Who she’s intended to be
She may never know her
Until she has set herself free
Harboring the darkest nights of yesterday
So until she finds her way she’ll have to play poor little girl
Poor little girl
She’s so important to me
I admit I use to be
Runnin’ never knowin’ of my destiny
Blessings in disguise today that end that play
Poor little girl,
Poor little girl
Poor little girl
Little girl’s me
Copyright 1969, Will Fiala
poem by Will Fiala
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My Elusive Dreams
by Curly Putman and Billy Sherrill
(added 10/25/97, thanks to Pauline Buchanan)
You followed me to Texas, you followed me to Utah,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
Then you went with me to A-la-bam',
Things looked good in Birmingham,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
I know you're tired of fol-low-ing
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
You had my child in Memphis then I heard of work in Nashville,
But we didn't find it there so we moved on.
To a small farm in Nebraska, to a gold mine in Alaska,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
I know you're tired of fol-low-ing
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
Now we've left A-las-ka because thewas no gold mine,
But this time only two of us moved on.
And now all we have is each other and a little memory
To cling to and still you won't let me go on alone.
I know you're tired of following
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Baby
Orbison/c & r price
Glittery eyes; witchy smiles
A good time is all you are after
Skin tight thighs; little white lies
Put you in the center of the laughter
But your reign of queen is over
Your fortress has been broken down
You're still the center of the laughter
But your role has changed to the clown
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Someone broke your heart in two
Ooh poor baby
Who would have thought it could happen to you
Poor baby
A pretty face; sweet talkin' ways
Got you a part of the action
A come-over-touch, glances and such
You always had to be the main attraction
Now you're the one who's crying
You lost at your own lonely game
You're still the center of attraction
But now i'm gone, you've got yourself to blame
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Do what you said you'd never do
Ooh poor baby
You let someone get much too close to you
Poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I were dead
'IF I were dead, you'd sometimes say, Poor Child!'
The dear lips quiver'd as they spake,
And the tears brake
From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.
Poor Child, poor Child!
I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.
It is not true that Love will do no wrong.
Poor Child!
And did you think, when you so cried and smiled,
How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake,
And of those words your full avengers make?
Poor Child, poor Child!
And now, unless it be
That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee,
O God, have Thou no mercy upon me!
Poor Child!
poem by Coventry Patmore
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The Sunken Crown
Nothing will hold him longer—let him go;
Let him go down where others have gone down;
Little he cares whether we smile or frown,
Or if we know, or if we think we know.
The call is on him for his overthrow,
Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown.
Poor fool! He plunges for the sunken crown,
And we—we wait for what the plunge may show.
Well, we are safe enough. Why linger, then?
The watery chance was his, not ours. Poor fool!
Poor truant, poor Narcissus out of school;
Poor jest of Ascalon; poor king of men.—
The crown, if he be wearing it, may cool
His arrogance, and he may sleep again.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Altered Boy
Oh no, he's buying an island
Oh no, he's building a boat
Why does he never stop smiling?
Fun surrounds him like a deep moat
Where does he get all those stories?
How can he tell such a lie?
He's bound to see purgatory
His views are in short supply
But Peter Pan would understand
His schemes and dreams and ploys
Best keep an eye on his slight hand
He such an altered boy
Good God, he's talking with parrots
Painting his dreams in the sand
Piling up beaucoup demerits
Doing it just 'cause he can
By Jove he's having a cocoa
Evading those judgmental eyes
Calmly walking his tight rope
High above all the outcries
But Peter Pan would understand
His schemes and dreams and ploys
Best keep an eye on his slight hand
He such an altered boy
The story goes
he stumbled at the alter
Now it seems he just blasphemes
And dwells with dangers daughter
Someone call the talking doctor
Somebody get a SWAT team
There he sits getting away with murder
How dare him live out his dreams
But Peter Pan would understand
His schemes and dreams and ploys
Best keep an eye on his slight hand
He such an altered boy
Oh no, he's sailing today
Oh no, beware Paraguay
Oh no, anchors aweigh
Oh no
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Little Bug
Poor little june bug floatin' in the pond
Poor little june bug not too fond
Of the water that he's floatin' on
For he's caught in a hydrogen bond.
Poor little moth floatin' in a lake
See 'em squirm, see 'em shake
Poor little moth floatin' in a lake
Sure could use a break
Poor little fly floatin' on by
We're watchin' 'em try to fly
Seein' 'em suffer kinda makes me cry
Put that in your stir fry
Poor little june bug floatin' in a fountain
Tryin' to swim's like climbin' a mountain
Poor little bug under a rug
Wish I could give 'em a hug.
poem by Adam Thoms
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Insufficient water goes to the cultivating fields
While the High Officials
(Or) Political Leaders
plan for some projects,
the main idea is to fill their pockets
with a percentage of profits,
the Officials become fat and rich,
the funds for the schemes
go thin and lean;
As if the water from the main source
from the dams to the fields goes scarce,
The bunds on both sides of the channel
absorb the water in full; the insufficient
water goes to the cultivating fields
resulting in dry crops with poor yields.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Born In Original Sin Sentence
didn't want to miss a chance schemes
old never let any chance go by themes
but some policy chances prove risky
was Adam angry first with Eve
who then put blame on sneaky snake
Eve was deceived so blame Adam
it was man Adam who deliberately sinned
Adam knew what he was choice dice doing
not like poor Eve who was conned deceived
neither took responsibility for their actions
if they had face copped up perhaps we would
have escaped born in original sin sentence?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Poor
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look out from the crowd
Lost in their 'man made prison'
God is with the poor
But do the poor know God is with them?
As they look up to the proud
Who looks back with derision
And who can tell the poor that God is with them?
He who paints angel wings on ragged backs?
Makes hungry mouths sing for their supper
He who nothing lacks?
Who poorer still can say God is with us?
When homeless turn away from too much fuss
But God is with them
Is he with us?
And poorer still in having more
But never having too much
Who can say then God is with us?
yvette smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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