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Trembling leaves of the money tree
Poor souls pray beneath the tree,
If a strong wind comes
Leaves would be scattered
And they can pick into their bags.
Yes, the storm came but leaves are still there
And the poor souls blown away!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Last Living Souls
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Take a gun
Or how you say
That's no way you behave
Just a law, a new begin
Sing a song that doesn't sin
And it grows
Hey, you know
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last to get away to some another day?
Do we know
Well, we know
Doesn't seem to be complete
Are we, are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Are we the last living souls?
Get up, get up, get up, get up...
What you say?
Cause all I was on
I got it down wrong
I see myself to get
And the Lord, seeing all now
Can you take us in
The part that comin' on
The coldest man doesn't see it's all
We go to the car
I see you walk to the far
And when you get there do you see
You fit the last you need on me
Cause we're the last living souls
We're the last living souls
Yeah, we're the last living souls
We're the last living souls
song performed by by Gorillaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Iago: Poor and content is rich, and rich enough,
But riches fineless is as poor as winter
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
line from Othello, Act III, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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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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Song of The Coffle Gang
This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
when parting from friends for the far off South-children taken from
parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.
See these poor souls from Africa,
Transported to America:
We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me?
We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee.
See wives and husbands sold apart,
The children's screams!-it breaks my heart;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
O, gracious Lord? when shall it be,
That we poor souls shall all be free?
Lord, break them Slavery powers-will you go along with me?
Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee.
Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease,
Then we poor souls can have our peace;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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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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Our Souls Are Safe
Ghouls of heaven are beauty and modesty,
Greater deities come from this ugliness.
Their help is in hand, their aiding us is beneficial
When our life is like a cellar, and not a roof.
One house is forced to our self, and one home is essential
For they have no more than one and one is all.
Poor people are not rich in their paragraphs,
In their sizes and style, life is empty and non-proud.
Much is condemned by the rich,
Where is the speech of the poor?
The poor are ghouls, and we haven’t any goals
Or riches, but now we have.
Our heaven is not hell, and our souls are safe.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Lonely Souls
The lonely souls wanders
Alone in the walks of life
No other souls as their companion
The lonely souls wanders
Alone in the daybreak
they've done their duties
In the walks of life
The lonely souls wanders
Alone in the life
They meet many other souls
Who comes to be
Unfit for the lonely souls
The lonely souls wanders
As the days pass by
The lonely souls became
More lonely, with no other
souls as their companion
The lonely souls wanders
Alone in the walks of life
The lonely souls decides
Not to die, but to face
Life in all it's hardships
The lonely souls still wanders.
poem by Lisa Chicharello
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The Souls Of Old Men
Inside their worn, tattered bodies
sit the souls of old men.
How unhappy the poor things are
and how bored by the pathetic life they live.
How they tremble for fear of losing that life, and how much
they love it, those befuddled and contradictory souls,
sitting -half comic and half tragic-
inside their old, threadbare skins.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Concept Salvation The Universe Dwarfs
I pray a lot
but
never enough
compassion
seems
to be
a most
important
part of praying
compassion
for world poor
the sick the weak
for souls dying
but praying
for eternal salvation
for those we
love
family
friends
for sinners
who sinned
against us
praying
for an immortal
souls destiny
throughout eternity
this concept salvation
the universe dwarfs
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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Eyes and ears are poor witnesses to people if they have uncultured souls.
quote by Heraclitus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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What A Feeling
What a feeling it is to say, “This is my own house”
For one who lived years in a rented residence
What a feeling it is to say, “I’m full to my neck”
For one who starved for weeks, being out of work
What a feeling it is to say, “This rag is so warm”
For a half-nude hobo who lives under sky-dome
Small pleasures, yet great gratifications they are,
For those grieving souls, in sheer indigence
The poor are poor; but poorer are the ravenous rich
Who can never reach these richer indulgences
poem by Sathya Narayana
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We're moles
we are moles
we are moles
fear lives in our souls
we are moles
we are moles
fear lives in our souls
if you take us out of holes
you will kill us poor moles
so much fear
so much fear
we will die when you get nearer
so much fear
so much fear
we will die when you get nearer
if you take us out of holes
you will kill us poor moles
we are moles
we are moles
fear lives in our souls
we are moles
we are moles
fear lives in our souls
if you take us out of holes
you will kill us poor moles
poem by Max Kuvaev
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Feeding Legions Poor
when if Jesus asks when
did I feed his legions poor
I shall promptly reply
I tried
to feed
their souls
warm their hearts
quench their thirst
hold their cold hands
I gave time money clothing food
I prayed for relief for their pains
yet still I sadly so sadly wondered
why you Jesus
feed
so few poor?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Sorry
There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down life’s way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.
I’m sorry for the strong brave men, who shield
the weak from harm,
But who, in their own troubled hours find no
Protecting arm.
I’m sorry for the victors who have reached
success, to stand
As targets for the arrows shot by envious failure’s
hand.
I’m sorry for the generous hearts who freely
shared their wine,
But drink alone the gall of tears in fortune’s
drear decline.
I’m sorry for the souls who build their own fame’s
funeral pyre,
Derided by the scornful throng like ice deriding
fire.
I’m sorry for the conquering ones tho know not
sin’s defeat,
But daily tread down fierce desire ‘neath scorched
and bleeding feet.
I’m sorry for the anguished hearts that break with
passions strain,
But I’m sorrier for the poor starved souls that
Never knew love’s pain.
Who hunger on through barren years not tasting
joys they crave,
For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o’er a
grave.
I’m sorry for the souls that come unwelcomed
into birth,
I’m sorry for the unloved old who cumber up the
earth.
I’m sorry for the suffering poor in life’s great
maelstrom hurled,
In truth I’m sorry for them all who make this
aching world.
But underneath whate’er seems sad and is not
understood,
I know there lies hid from our sight a mighty
germ of good.
And this belief stands firm by me, my sermon,
motto, text –
The sorriest things in this life will seem grandest
in the next.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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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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Enough Money Spent On Wars
What agony; accumulative emotive costs;
feed needle; soul destroying drug addictions?
What monstrous greed
cloaked in racial hatred;
fed with religious hatred
feeds covert wars justified?
When will we; with humanity feed;
with compassion; brothers sisters imprisoned;
in race conflict; poverty dying discarded;
in ignored horrors; extant third world?
Ban every earth war feed our poor
not capitalist corporate baron robbers;
glutted on global sly sweat shop wages
slum lord rents death reaped war profits?
Misery is waste residue of souls
which seek self pleasure materialism;
instead of gift of giving to others
oiled crimes greases palms capitalism.
It is still universally eternally true
it is better to give than to receive;
to sow sacred love not bile hatred
sow prosperity not starvation greed.
Enough money to buy drugs
to support epidemic addictions;
who will feed our suffering world?
Enough money spent on wars
to house all our earth's homeless;
who will house humanities homeless?
Who will feed the poor?
Ban every war feed the poor.
No need to ask who will bank on feed;
crime world exploitation materialism?
Spend money spent on wars
to house all earth's homeless;
feed our poor do not feed wars.
Souls who feed world materialism
will not house human immortal souls;
while flesh rots in blown away dust
in greedy winds of war greed lust.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Music Fills Our Souls
Music fills our souls,
so we can keep dancing,
out win the devils steps,
out dance him once and for all,
Music fills our souls,
the notes that are applied,
the sounds they project,
refill our hope, strength and desire,
so we may dance on,
this crazy marathon,
Music fills our souls,
it give us cause to rejoice,
a reason to keep the steps in stride,
a feeling of serenity,
a vital component to survive,
Music fills our souls,
we know we could not do this alone,
so we asked our gifted friends,
to help us in our quest,
Music fills our souls,
our friends came along,
put the melody in the air,
the passion in our souls,
Music fills our souls,
by the love and grace,
our friends have shown,
Music fills our souls,
Debbie Nicholson copyright@2009
poem by Debbie Nicholson
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