Rather ten thousand lanterns from a wealthy man than one lantern from a poor man.
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Just Wealthy Whingers
Why do some very wealthy people see fit for to complain
When they already have more than enough seems beyond me to explain
Since to whinge they do not have a reason it does occur to me
That their money is not an antidote for their spiritual poverty
Worth millions in money and assets but it does seem sad to say
That their type more to be pitied spiritually poor in their small way
Like 'tis said much always wants more in their case this does apply
Why some wealthy people crave for more I really wonder why
Not far from their leafy suburb live the poor of poverty street
The homeless and the down and outs who never have enough to eat
Five hundred thousand dollars in yearly profit after tax and they complain for us not a good year
The more some have the more some want or so it does appear
They are just wealthy whingers some are so hard to please
In a World where millions of poor people are dying of hunger and disease.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Magic Lantern
When you look inside
My magic lantern
All the world is yet unseen
Try to gaze into
The yellow glowing
To get a reflection of me
In a land of make believe and magic
You can be just anything you feel
You think that what you're in is a dream
But know that the lantern is viewing
View the magic lantern
Take a trip around the world
View the magic lantern
There's a thousand
Mysteries unfurled
And i know one of them
I remember your face
Can't remember the place
Here on our own
Living alone
You can dream that
You're a man of power
Ready to be happy with your gold
Without love your mind is going sour
Money's no good when you're old
View the magic lantern
You can have the sky above
Yeah, the magic lantern
You'll buy everything but love
Everything but love
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh To Be Wealthy And Famous
Oh to be wealthy and famous living in a big house by the sea
With a Rolls Royce in my garage of money worries quite free
Seen as a successful person with heaps of money to spend
Everyone would want to know me everyone would be my friend.
I could help the poor and needy for others I could do good
I could help you out then poor fellow instead of saying I would help you if I could
Money it speaks every language pity the poor and downtrod
Surely there is nothing greater than money the great paper god.
I could do wonders with money help those in dire poverty
Be an example to others to worthy causes donate generously
Instead I struggle for survival one of the poor of our Street
Life for me an uphill battle struggling for to make ends meet.
Oh to be wealthy and famous the wealthiest man in the Town
I could be generous with money help those financially down
Instead I am just a poor battler who would wish to be my friend
I who must be careful with money and count every dollar I spend?
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Different Law
For the wealthy and poor there's a different law
Though on that your own conclusion you can draw
You may think my comments are not very fair
But this is my view and my view I will air
Save for some cases of proven murder money does never fail
And money is known to keep people from jail
Many poor people are in jail for a minor offence
They can't afford a lawyer for to fight their defence
'Tis powerful paper money for to give it fair due
And that money does speak every language does seem only true
The wealthy and poor the law treats differently
Though with what I say here many would disagree
The reason you don't find many millionaires in a jail
Is that the influence of money seldom does seem to fail.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The glow in the fog and mist
The spectral glow of a bobbing lantern
As if tossed upon a stormy sea
Appearing..then fading anon, absorbed
In foggy essence, to fade again so feebly
Once more, ere sinking in finality
Into the quicksand of mist
Mere glow of candle, so dear to see
Seen now…then not, …with capricious twist
The spectral light, drifts through the night
As a ghost through fog and mist
Through ribs of rain, the tremulous light
Chills the brain, befogs the sight
Dimly lit, by lanterns in the mist
Dark clouds upon the soul this night
Fog is the dark abode of lost souls
Who wander without rest with lantern high
The mist, the breath, of hollow death
The fog, the food, on which to persist
Tis best my friend, not to be, nor ne'r to see….
The glow in the fog and mist
poem by David Whalen
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Lantern Fly
Lantern fly
just like you
I am fascinated with lights
especially in the dark
I want to get close
even to the littlest light.
Lantern fly
just like me
do you know what love is?
just like me
do you know what sorrow is?
Lantern fly
come in to my hut
and let's watch together
the light of my little lamp
just be careful
not to get too close
because it may lead you
to your end.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The So Called Good Economic Managers
Due to Government mismanagement we see a society in decay
And the wealthy at the expense of the poor get wealthier it should never be that way
In so called affluent Western Nations people live rough on the street
Without a place to call home to out of rubbish bins they eat.
The Government due to so called good economic management get re-elected but the poor getting more poor
And for the youth of the poor Suburbs job opportunities are fewer
And many young people never find employment because of their address
And lack of career opportunities give rise to feelings of hopelessness.
Life is tough for those in the poor Suburbs where poverty is rife
From the day that they are born they must struggle on through life
The Monarch became Monarch due to birthright doesn't life seem so unfair
Whilst millions are dying of hunger in the bigger World out there.
The so called good economic managers are back in power again
But from their good economic management only the wealthy gain
And even in so called wealthy Western Nations there is widespread poverty
And more people dying of malnutrition than ever before in the twenty first century.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Need Some Laughter In Our Lives
We need some laughter in our lives since laughter makes us happy
I know this bloke he never smiles like baby with wet nappy
He always seems so close to tears for him I do feel pity
Financially well to do and spiritually poor many like him in this City
With a lovely school going daughter and a beautiful wife he ought to feel lighthearted
But happinness out of his life 'twould seem has long departed
A millionaire many times over his business it is thriving
But about him he has the sad look of one barely surviving
He needs some laughter in his life since by laughter he's forsaken
Without laughter happiness sleeps on and never does awaken
Materially wealthy but spiritually poor he always looks sad and lonely
But such is life as some do say and he is not the only
Wealthy person for to feel this way for him I feel some pity
For he is a poor man in some ways one of many in this City.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Already Know
There's no need to tell me I already know
That money on trees never blossoms or grow
Forty thousand in poverty for every millionaire
It is a rat race in the big World out there.
A long road to financial success and renown
For those who are born in the poor side of town
Condemned to be poor by their postal address
Without the right postal code the highbrows you won't impress.
It is common knowledge most will tell you so
'Tis not how clever you are it is who you do know
A wealthy person to you can be a good friend
A poor one has little money for to give or to lend.
In life I've been lucky quite lucky enough
I've never been hungry or had to sleep rough
I've never been Homeless or a Stateless refugee
Though I am aware of others poverty.
I already know you don't have to tell me
That money does not grow on a bush or a tree
Yet whilst some are worth millions and billions in money it seems sad to say
That many are dying of hunger every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Children Of The Poor
Children of the poor
ever since your birth
what is it you have known?
What is it you are worth?
You have felt hunger.
You have felt pain.
You are undernourished.
You've become the bane
of societal indifference
that's become the norm.
The wealthy shut their eyes, not seeing
the approaching storm,
The storm that's been brewing
like Katrina lashing out,
consuming all the misery
it has brought about.
Children of the poor
what difference does it make
that the children of the rich,
eating steak and cake
give no thought to all of you?
Their life is bountiful.
They take a sideward glance
and step back on their hill.
But hills can come a-crumbling
on this big old earth,
leveling out the playing field,
leveling out the worth
Children of the wealthy,
it is time you think
that the times that are coming
can change in a blink,
when all will be equal
as they look around.
The poor will inherit
and their worth will be found.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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
I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.’
O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.
And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.
poem by Jane Taylor
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In Every City, Town And Village
In every City, Town and Village the haves and have nots reside
But even the poorest of the poor have got their sense of pride
And it must be soul destroying for them to have to beg to stay alive
But pride has to take second place to the will to survive.
The wealthy growing wealthier and the poor growing poorer in the great social divide
And sad to say the gap between the haves and the have nots has never been so wide
Millions are dying of hunger and in camps for the homeless and Stateless overseas
At least thirty million people that's a lot of refugees.
Poverty is a relative thing some have been known to say
And the poor one in a prosperous Nation would be seen as wealthy in a poor Nation far away
But to live short of money anywhere is not a pleasant thing
'Tis seldom of the homeless soul that the balladeer does sing.
In every City, Town and Village there is inequality
And even in the wealthiest of Nations there is want and poverty
And though everybody in the World cannot be a millionaire
The unequal distribution of wealth seems so very unfair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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If You Have Money Problems
If you have money problems your problems are not small
And that money speaks all languages that goes for one and all
But that money cannot buy happiness that seems so very true
And to the battlers who keep keeping on great credit must be due,
There are so many paupers for every millionaire
And for millions of people life must seem so unfair
It truly is a rat race in the bigger World out there
And people with compassion have never been so rare,
The poor keep getting poorer whilst the wealthy more wealthy grow
And like tis said how one half live the other half would not know
And an egalatarian World from us seems far away
And even in so called wealthy Nations poverty is rife today
And if you have money problems and are in financial strife
then you are made to struggle with the cross you bear in life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Far Too Many
Far too many with too little it has always been that way
And far too many have to struggle just to live from day to day
And far too many children never reach the adult stage
And people still dying of hunger in this enlightened age.
The majority of the wealth still owned by the privileged few
And that money speaks all languages still happen to be true
In a so called egalitarian society don't tell me all is fair
When so many workers are underpaid and so many on welfare.
With the increase in the human population comes the increase in poverty
And that for a few to grow wealthy many must grow poor doesn't seem just right to me
You make the horse work harder when you threaten him with the rod
And to keep the poor living in fear the wealthy invented god
A huge increase in poverty as the population grow
And that far too many have too little does this have to be so?
And far too many on low wages and far too many unemployed
And too many far too many in wars and famines have died.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Ex Government Minister.
He lives on his fat retirement pension and he's doing quite okay
And with his wealthy buddies on the golf course every day
He practices his putting and his driving and the good life he enjoy
And of thirst and malnutrition this man will never die.
On the board of a big corporation he makes more in one day
Than many in a month do who work hard for their pay
A man who has become wealthy out of the social divide
As the gap between the haves and the have nots has grown wide.
A former Government Minister none of his mates are poor
And his wife and his family are financially secure
Still good luck to him as I not to be his judge
And of his easy life and affluence him I should not begrudge.
With their wealthy connections he and his wife dine
And in the upper class restaurants drink the most expensive wine
And his voters who gave to him fame and helped his wealth to grow
Are not part of his circle and them he does not wish to know.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A wealthy man is a wise man: a poor man knows nothing.
Searching...
The darkness of my existance is blinding,
In the distance fireflies dance amidst the dark,
A flickering light in the bleakness of the abyss,
Lighting up the nothing that I have become,
Yet they are not fireflies but the lanterns of others,
They light up the blackness of my horizon,
Calling to me through the darkness,
When shall the lantern I seek set aflame my heart?
I know not what I seek for I am empty,
I have traveled decades throughout this life,
Searching for something others seem to find so easily,
Searching... Yet finding nothing...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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In A World Where Money Only Matters
When your amount of money can say more about you than words of you can ever say
It does not speak volumes of the society that we have to live in today
If that only speaks of our true worth it does not say much for humanity
When you say money only matters you seem spiritually bankrupt to me.
In a World where money only matters how poor indeed we all must be
Not surprising that so many people are living in dire poverty
If a few have the most of the money what does that mean for the majority
They struggle just for to make ends meet and they are poor financially.
In this 21st century of big Corporations we now have the privileged few
The wealthy are only growing greedier as more millions in cash they pursue
And thousands they have to grow poorer for every new millionaire
And for millions all around the World about life there is nothing fair.
When we are valued by our worth in money we surely are spiritually poor
The wealthy they keep getting wealthier and for the disease of greed there is no cure
And thousands every day dying of starvation and thousands are dying of disease
And in the refugee camps of the World there are thirty million refugees
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Wordly Rule
unfortunately
it iş the real an the tough
the only wordly rule
the lust of the wealthy
tries to drill the sky
but the post
and the canvas
ofthe tent of the poor
in destruction
fall on the head of the poor
so try
you trier and the worker on and on
never give up
never give up prayer
the hope is your bread
eat it...eat it...eat it...
when yoı u are still living
poem by Metin Sahin
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