I was raised not to be rude, but I also try to get the best work out of people.
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Dreaded Requests
I am not a rude or ignorant man,
but there are some things,
that I will not do.
Unfortunately, I do not like
to read a lot of what
I am politely requested to read.
I am often bombarded by people
asking me to read
and comment on their work.
I do not like to be rude
and ignore their pleas,
but I just read what I like,
not what I am asked to read.
I choose whom I like,
if I see a title I find interesting
I will take the time to read it
and make a mental note of the author.
If I like what I read,
I will dip into that author’s work
time and time again.
I do not care if they read my work or not
that is their choice and I have mine.
All I ask is let me make up my own mind.
Do not bombard me with notes
requesting that I read your work,
as I am likely to ignore them.
I am not being rude or ignorant
it is I just do not do requests.
poem by David Harris
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I Was Born and Raised
When the sun was hanging bright
And the moon gloom with execsive light
Then I was born
When the days were constantly burning
And the cloud immensely weeping
Then I was born
When human were not humble
And the races were different people
Then I was born
When actions were filled with advantage
And the minds were like gabbage
Then I was born
When the street were filled with blood
And human words were built with fraud
Then I was born
When parents cannot make their stomach feed
And they cannot take the responsibility of their breed
Then I was born
Where the people were just part of a story
And their effort was to build another man glory
Their I was raised
Where men were like iron
But their strength was for a corn
Their I was raised
Where people were deprived
And from them wealth is derived
There I was born and raised
Where the land is good
But the people cannot make their food
Their I was born and raised
Where the place is called africa
And the people are called african
Their I was born and raised
I was born and raised
Where the people’s destiny lies in the grave
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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The Beauty and the Dude
A fresh sweet-scented beauty
Came tripping down the street;
She was as fair a vision
As you might chance to meet.
A masher raised his cady
(I don’t want to be rude)
He raised it to the lady—
That fresh sweet-scented dude.
They met and talked and simpered
And giggled in the street;
They were as bright a vision
As you might wish to meet.
I don’t know what they’re good for,
But don’t want to be rude
To the fair sweet-scented beauty
Or the well-upholstered dude.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Phat
The word 'fat' is a term,
That 'skinny people' use,
Because they don't know what else to say,
When they see a 'fat person.'
No one has to be so rude about it,
When they see a 'fat person' eating ice cream,
Or sitting around watching others,
But some 'skinny people' don't understand to just dropp a conversation.
The word 'rude' is what 'fat people' use when someone makes fun of them,
'Fat people' are all over the world,
And yet - 'skinny people' don't want to accept the fact that 'fat people' are in this cruel world,
So some 'skinny people' have to act like they're all that and be mean to others.
There are people in this world that are 'low class' and are different from the people in the 'higher class, '
Because some people in the 'lower class' goes into depression and eat,
Because of the events happening in their life,
And so they become 'fat.'
But what 'skinny people' explain,
Is that they are slobs and can't eat normal instead of shoving food down their throat,
But what 'fat people' explain,
Is that they try to lose weight, but some of them can't because it's hard.
'Skinny people' make fun of them and 'fat people' let them,
Because some 'skinny people' don't know how it feels like to be 'fat, '
And some 'skinny people' call 'fat people' ugly and of course 'fat, '
But what 'skinny people' don't know is that we all are phat.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Hard working
Surround yourself with a thousand students,
need to taking care of them,
you work hard and work seriously for them
without even any complain,
you dedicated yourself to your work
and performing your duty accordingly.
But there are some rude person
even you treated them nice and
talk them with dignity and respect,
they only take advantages of that.
Keep up the good work and
stick to your principles in life,
I do agree with you,
if you think you are right then fight for it.
poem by Myleen Aspiras
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I was raised by free-spirited people, though my father gave me a very strong work ethic.
quote by Diane Lane
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Why Me People
When ever you look at me
you feel like am too talkative
while its the way i am
i learn things through talking
why people why?
whenever i give a comment
you think am rude
while it not being rude but thats how i am
why people why?
when i talk to a girl
you accuse me that am asking her out
while i try to create friendship
but thats how i live
why people why?
you call me google
then you start to giggle
i try to learn new things on google
but you laugh at me then i start to wriggle
why people why?
i talk reality
as i live while it hurts me alot
but thats how i am
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
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Psycopaths
On the news we see abusers,
Are they psycopaths.
Drug abusers in the schools.
Are they psycopaths.
Confused sick people,
Are they psycopaths.
The misfits, unfit depicted as mad.
Are the ones paranoid,
Also psycopaths.
And the people who annoy,
Are they psycopaths.
What about the crooks,
Are they psycopaths.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
Are the ones who lie and cheat,
Are they psycopaths.
And what about deceivers,
Are they psycopaths.
And the cops who beat up people,
Are they psycopaths.
Is everyone I see,
A psycopath.
Is everyone I see,
A psycopath.
And what about the homeless,
Who have no cash.
Are they and the hungry,
Psycopaths.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
And what about the people everyday I pass.
Are the rich and snobby people,
Also psycopaths.
Are the people who don't eat,
Are they psycopaths.
And those who watch their diets,
Are they psycopaths.
And those playing videos,
Killing fast!
Are children being raised,
As psycopaths.
Are children being raised,
As psycopaths.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
Are children being raised,
As psycopaths.
And will psycopaths,
Have all of the cash.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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Hymn
Accept this building, gracious Lord,
No temple though it be;
We raised it for our suffering kin,
And so, Good Lord, for Thee.
Accept our little gift, and give
To all who here may dwell,
The will and power to do their work,
Or bear their sorrows well.
From Thee all skill and science flow;
All pity, care, and love,
All calm and courage, faith and hope,
Oh! pour them from above.
And part them, Lord, to each and all,
As each and all shall need,
To rise like incense, each to Thee,
In noble thought and deed.
And hasten, Lord, that perfect day,
When pain and death shall cease;
And Thy just rule shall fill the earth
With health, and light, and peace.
When ever blue the sky shall gleam,
And ever green the sod;
And man's rude work deface no more
The Paradise of God.
Eversley, 1870.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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More About People
When people aren't asking questions
They're making suggestions
And when they're not doing one of those
They're either looking over your shoulder or stepping on your toes
And then as if that weren't enough to annoy you
They employ you.
Anybody at leisure
Incurs everybody's displeasure.
It seems to be very irking
To people at work to see other people not working,
So they tell you that work is wonderful medicine,
Just look at Firestone and Ford and Edison,
And they lecture you till they're out of breath or something
And then if you don't succumb they starve you to death or something.
All of which results in a nasty quirk:
That if you don't want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won't have to work.
poem by Ogden Nash
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The people that make this country work, the people who pay on their mortgages, the people getting up and going to work, striving in this recession to not participate in it, they're not the enemy. They're the people that hire you. They're the people that are going to give you a job.
quote by Rush Limbaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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PH, To Me
When I joined the ranks of poets
At PH a few months hence
I found a group of people
Whom I now consider friends
Though, as a poet, I suspect,
I’ll ne'er be thought renowned
Still I love to show my work
Where it’s seen the world around
This site has been a boon to me,
Writing more than I used to,
And I think, by reading other bards
My own work’s been improved
I see this site as a privilege
And, one not to be abused
When angry tensions oft arise
It leaves me quite confused
Each item I submit in verse
Though meaningful to me
I suspect that, not, to all who read
Twill be their cup of tea
At times, much better poets
Than I, their work, submit
And even though, I know it’s great
I just can’t “get into” it
But if, alas, I take offense
At values, different than my own
I, simply, note the poet’s name
Click the mouse and move along
If a rude and contentious poet
Should offend enough, on site
Their work, no longer, would be read
Which would be their ultimate price
Copyright C R Clark-4/28/2008
poem by C.R. Clark
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But we will say something else. That for far too long in this country, people who can work, people who are able to work, and people who choose not to work: you cannot go on claiming welfare like you are now.
quote by David Cameron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A raised weight can produce work, but in doing so it must necessarily sink from its height, and, when it has fallen as deep as it can fall, its gravity remains as before, but it can no longer do work.
quote by Hermann von Helmholtz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Respect The Earth!
why do we always mistreat
the people who do our farm work?
why would we starve the people
who pick our crops?
why would we deport the only people
who are willing to do the work?
and you wonder why your kids
think that all food comes
from an aisle in the grocery store!
gas prices keep rising,
food prices keep rising...
what happens when the trucking
industry goes down?
what are you going to eat then?
we need to as much as possible
go back to raising our food.
at the very least support
your local farmers...
no GM seeds!
do it the old way, the right way.
pay your farm workers,
pay them well!
get out and do the work yourself!
stop the dependency on a failing system!
let the people who want to work, work!
respect the earth, and it will respect us!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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When I feel bad, I work. When I have problems, when I'm depressed, when I'm bored with life, I sit down to my work. There are probably other prescriptions, but I don't know them. Or they don't work for me. You want my advice -- here it is Go and work. Thank God that people like you and me need only paper and pencil to work.
quote by Strugatsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Rude
Just a little rude can ruin someones day,
being rude a little bit,
is like swimming in a vest,
rude is like swimming with no trunks on,
kissing in the dark,
was it him? or was it her?
and eating from a bag ewe left open on the counter
for several days.
The decadance of Society, RUDE,
has finally sickened me,
the only thing to do is pray to GOD
to quicken me.
When the hours pass too quickly,
and the days pass just like hours
the months appear to me like weeks gone bye.
These aer the things eye am searching for.
A Kind Word.
A Smile.
A Happy Kiss.
A While.
Time is a blessing.
Keep Time In Today.
poem by Charles Hice
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