No one so hard upon the poor as the pauper who has got into power.
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The Poor, Poor Country
Oh 'twas a poor country, in Autumn it was bare,
The only green was the cutting grass and the sheep found little there.
Oh, the thin wheat and the brown oats were never two foot high,
But down in the poor country no pauper was I.
My wealth it was the glow that lives forever in the young,
'Twas on the brown water, in the green leaves it hung.
The blue cranes fed their young all day - how far in a tall tree!
And the poor, poor country made no pauper of me.
I waded out to the swan's nest - at night I heard them sing,
I stood amazed at the Pelican, and crowned him for a king;
I saw the black duck in the reeds, and the spoonbill on the sky,
And in that poor country no pauper was I.
The mountain-ducks down in the dark made many a hollow sound,
I saw in sleep the Bunyip creep from the waters underground.
I found the plovers' island home, and they fought right valiantly,
Poor was the country, but it made no pauper of me.
My riches all went into dreams that never yet came home,
They touched upon the wild cherries and the slabs of honeycomb,
They were not of the desolate brood that men can sell or buy,
Down in that poor country no pauper was I.
* * * * *
The New Year came with heat and thirst and the little lakes were low,
The blue cranes were my nearest friends and I mourned to see them go;
I watched their wings so long until I only saw the sky,
Down in that poor country no pauper was I.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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Poor Poor Kids
Be quiet! Don't make a sound!
Speak when you're spoken to!
What awful fearful bounds
Speaking only on cue
Poor poor kids
You can't go out and play today!
It's punishment, unfitting the crime
This parental power display
For kids, like serving hard-time
Poor poor kids
Adults wield such power
They must be listened to
They can their poor kids cower
As they dim their kids world view
Power seeds have been sown
Hopefully they'll not sprout
So when kids are fully grown
Their kids will not self doubt
poem by Stanley Cooper
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To Be (Love Poem)
Sometimes it’s hard to be apart
Sometimes it’s hard to be brave
Sometimes it’s hard to be cold
Sometimes it’s hard to be daring
Sometimes it’s hard to be early
Sometimes it’s hard to be friends
Sometimes it’s hard to be good
Sometimes it’s hard to be happy
Sometimes it’s hard to be in-love
Sometimes it’s hard to be just
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind
Sometimes it’s hard to be lovely
Sometimes it’s hard to be mellow
Sometimes it’s hard to be nasty
Sometimes it’s hard to be out
Sometimes it’s hard to be poor
Sometimes it’s hard to be quiet
Sometimes it’s hard to be ready
Sometimes it’s hard to be simple
Sometimes it’s hard to be together
poem by Ian Beckett
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That Money Speaks Every Language
That money speaks every language has often been said before
And what also applies to money is much always wants more
And that moneyed people rule the World is something we all know
The more money they accumulate the more their power does grow.
Compared to those in poverty the millionaires seem few
And in saying that money speaks every language is not saying anything new
For every millionaire there is thousands in poverty
It is money and the lack of it that causes inequality.
That with money speaks every language most surely would agree
That's how it was and that's how it is and that's how 'twill always be
The poor sad pauper of the street to greatness none inspire
It is those who have heaps of money that others do admire.
Their dreams of success and wealth and fame so many do pursue
And that money speaks every language so happens to be true
For the poor of the poor suburb success seems far away
And the gap between the haves and the have nots is widening by the day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Yellowish Rickshawman's shuttle service in the colorful city and off limits
In the capital
This simple man with a loincloth
Poor fellow his name and he doesn't know
His date of birth.
Just think of your forefather's age.
His sweaty bare body
And broken ribs sadden,
The bare feet tempered under the burning Sun
And he's familiar with all the tar and gravel roads
From the court to brothel
And the Magistrate to Clerk
He has drawn them on his rickety cart.
Though the journey's hard
He never said tired.
Now he rests in a Pauper's graveyard
And his tumbledown antique cart the last will
Nobody has taken to the boasting Museum?
*Rickshaw (jinricksha) [ Jap. jin(man) +riki (power) and sha is carriage.]
A small two wheeled hooded vehicle drawn by one man or more men.
Originally used in Japan.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Yes A Pauper Knows A Pauper
Yes a pauper knows a pauper.
And what they do.
Living on the city streets.
In snow or heat.
And when the rain pours down,
These people don't scatter to scoot.
With attitude.
Yes a pauper knows a pauper.
And what they do.
Living on the city streets.
In snow or heat.
Yet a hope most know,
For them...
Is leaning on,
Mean scenes.
In desperation.
Mean scenes...
To demean.
Yet a hope most know,
For them...
Is leaning on,
Mean scenes.
In desperation.
Mean scenes...
To demean.
And the streets they live on for them,
Will never be...
Good friends,
In the end!
Yes a pauper knows a pauper.
And what they do.
Living on the city streets.
In snow or heat.
And the streets they live on for them,
Will never be...
Good friends,
In the end!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The POWERFULL
I am the power
Below my bower
Are decided
The bullet’s shower
I am the power
If you are rebel
But are capable
I would help you
Like the crow’s pebble
I am the power
If you are weak
My help is bleak
Let you not shriek
Due to oppression
I am the power
All kinds of “cracies”
Are my policies
Brutal use of power
Are my legacies
I am the power
All organizations
Are in collaboration
Always abet me
In all possible fashion
I am the power
Poor are exploited
Rich are invited
For attaining coffers
Looted from the blighted
I am the power
My ostensible fights
For the all human right
Are my devices
That help me flight
I am the power
poem by Akram Saqib
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The Poor Give To The Wrong Type Power
The poor so sad to say do not see far
They vote for one who drives expensive car
And one they don't see after voting day
From where they live he lives long miles away.
The poor don't ever seem to understand
That they vote for one who for them little care
To one greedy individual they give power
And when they need him he is never there.
Who is this person the poor voted for
He lives in a big house leads the high life
And you won't see him in a second hand shop
When he is buying a present for his wife.
The poor to the wrong type always give power
And they make the worst choices on voting day
They ought to vote for one of their own kind
And for mistakes made there is a price to pay.
The poor give to the wrong type of person power
To greedy individual they give all the say
On voting day the wrong choices they make
And what little power they have they give away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Will Power
“Hard work is the Backbone of Success”,
Is the famous proverb, around the world.
But what’s more,
No one can Work,
Let alone do hard work, without their Will Power.
So,
It’s the Will Power, which makes you do what you do.
It’s the Will Power, which brings you Success.
It’s the Will Power, which takes you higher and higher.
And,
It’s the Will Power which is the backbone of Hard work.
poem by Anusha Subramanian
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Poor Sad Baby
Goodbye. Im bound away
On the morning plane.
Ill fly around the world,
Then Ill fly around again.
And when Ive been from egypt
To the snows of nome,
Poor sad baby, thats when
Ill be coming home.
Rose gardens in the rain
And castles in the snow,
Post cards from distant places
Are poor company I know,
But when old gay paree
Is just another town,
Poor sad baby, ill
Come home and settle down.
When Ive felt the friendship
Of a thousand hands,
When Im drunk with the music
From a thousand bands,
A thousand bands,
Ill dance the streets by moonlight
And the fields by day.
Perchance my jeans wont jingle
But the memry coins will stay.
Ill be a pauper queen,
A poorhouse millionaire.
Poor sad baby, ill
Bring you home a dream to share
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poverty Is A Relative Thing
It is true poverty is a relative thing
A poor bloke buys his girlfriend a ten dollar ring
But to a pauper one with ten dollars is not poor at all
What to one seems big to another seems small,
That poverty is a relative thing seems so true
You may well be poor but many poorer than you
There are millions of homeless on Poverty Street
Searching in rubbish bins to find something to eat
And there are millions who lay down to rest hungry at night
And sleep in the open under the starlight
At least you have a roof over your head and a bed on which to lie
And it will not be of malnutrition that you will die
And of those down on their luck the singer may sing
But poverty can be a relative thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poor House
You walk in, half past nine
Lookin like a queen
Serving me with papers
Calling me obscene
Woman Ive tried so hard
Just to do my best
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And youll take all the rest
Up all day, down all night
Working on the job
Everything I do is wrong
I always end up [..]
Woman I try so hard
Done all I can do.
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
Keep all the best for you.
Ooh, in the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
If a drove a pulpwood truck
Would you love me more?
Will you bring me diamonds
And hang around my door
Woman, Ive done my best
Theyre aint much left for me
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And throw away the key (in the poor house)
Ooh, in the poor house
You walked in, half past nine
Lookin like a queen
Serving me with papers
Calling me obscene
Woman Ive tried so hard
Just to do my best
Theyre gonna put me in the poor house
And youll take all the rest
In the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
In the poor house
Ooh, in the poor house
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Hard To Find
There are a few honest politicians so honest and faithful and kind
But they are such a small minority honest politicians are so hard to find
They would do almost anything for to hold on to power as power in their lives is their central theme
They put power in their lives before principle or at least that is how it does seem,
There are a few honest politicians though their type are becoming quite rare
And shady deals are concocted in high places in the bigger World out there
So much corruption in high places where success can come through deceit
Far decenter than them poor and homeless and living it rough on the street
To most politicians to lie is so easy and one lie leads to another they say
And they are referred to as 'the honorable' yet they tell more lies every day
They are tainted by their lust for power to power they so desperately cling
Yet many see them as quite special and many their praises do sing
And many out there are so gullible and to the faults of the power wielders quite blind
And 'tis sad that honest politicians are becoming much harder to find.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Power To The People
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Say you want a revolution
We better get on right away
Well you get on your feet
And out on the street
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
A million workers working for nothing
You better give em what they really own
We got to put you down
When we come into town
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
I gotta ask you comrades and brothers
How do you treat you own woman back home
She got to be herself
So she can free herself
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Now, now, now, now
Oh well, power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Yeah, power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money Is Most Important
At the top of people's new year's wish list you won't find poverty
For money speaks every language as most would agree
A lack of money in people causes low self esteem
Money is the most important thing to most it does seem
Yes money is the most important thing
The praises of a pauper you will not hear one sing
Music, song and dance may be food of the soul
But people with plenty of money of power have control
And of the World that we live in it does seem sad to say
That money speaks every language in the World of today
Yes money to many it does matter most
To a pauper anyone does not drink a toast
And you will not find many to embrace poverty
Money is most important as most would agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A tortoise
the tortoise is just inadequate
she has been treating
the same way everyone
of another kind
a supercilious front
to shroud weaknesses
broadcasting insouciance
with a hard hard shell
she knows she has a birthright
a hard headed advantage
with its shell signed
with letters from heaven
nobody is allowed even to knock on
it, protected species
here she is behaving in ways
that turn people away
without even knowing why
ten thousand years from now
she would be still in her same state
and behaving the same way
one big curvy hard hard shell
as the world shuttles to a new sphere
poor tortoise! poor tortoise!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Norms to treat men
The pauper was once a topper.
Give credit to the past.
The topper was once a pauper.
Give credit to the present.
10.07.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Earth is a graveyard
A pauper claims his baroness mother was buried
in this aristocratic graveyard.
But he doesn't have any relevant document
to prove that.
This seems to be a restricted place
as they were buried with their wealth.
The guard explains to the poor man
'I am sorry sir, unless if you have an authority
there is no way to trespass.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Workings Of Human Life
The workings of human life beyond me to explain
How one person's loss is another one's gain
And why some see greed as okay does seem puzzling to me
In this Human world of inequality
The pauper, the homeless, the poor refugee
A quarter of the World's human population in dire poverty
And billions of have nots are doing it tough
Whilst the privileged minority have far more than enough
Of money and every material thing
Yet many too many their praises do sing
In an age when poverty exists everywhere
Life is so hard for many in the big World out there
In a Human world where the gap between the haves and the have nots grow wide
Far too many of a fair go in life are denied.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Obama or McCain
Why should I care who is the next U S President Obama or McCain
Since from who wins or loses I won't stand to gain
I do live far distant of the U S of A
Many thousands of miles that does seem far away.
'Tis all about success and ego and about self esteem
And 'tis all about power little else it does seem
But the poor of the U S as poor will remain
And it should not matter to them who wins Obama or McCain.
This is all about money and all about power
Though many never know of a good meal or of a warm shower
So many live rough on the poor side of town
Whilst McCain and Obama compete for renown.
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
Who live hungry where there is squalor and disease
McCain or Obama will not help them in any way
Do you think this is not a fair thing to say?
The rewards of the power and the glory the winners will reap
And to the U S Presidental Election I will not lose any sleep
Whether 'tis Obama or McCain why should I much care
Since they are both power hungry people and their type not
rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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