I'm actually forced to write about Michigan because as a native of that state it's the place I know best.
quote by Jim Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Michigan
Well my mother rolled over and died in michigan
My dog got hit by a truck and I cried in michigan
I got drunk and puked up my guts in michigan
But Im alright, Im alright, Im alright, Im alright
And man Im riding here tonight in michigan
I ran a race and came in dead last in michigan
Yeah, I shot myself in the ass in michigan
I was lookin for someplace to feel free but they busted my for just
Being me in michigan
But alright, its alright, its alright, its alright
And baby Im riding high tonight in michigan
I ran into a little bad luck in michigan
I met a woman ? ? ?
Baby Im running late but you got here one hell of a state
In michigan
Oh michigan
This song has been played in a few towns in the us, each time the
Title has been changed and some of the lyrics as well.
(gotj tour)
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By these purchases the Indian title, with moderate reservations, has been extinguished to the whole of the land within the limits of the State of Ohio, and to a part of that in the Michigan Territory and of the State of Indiana.
quote by James Monroe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Michigan is also the only industrial state that has a AAA credit rating.
quote by John Engler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why I Write?
I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face
poem by Asif Andalib
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Detroit
I am dreaming of a michigan girlfriend
All bright-eyed and happy in pain
I am dreaming of a michigan girl
See her come around
Fall down, break & scatter everywhere...
I close my eyes and I can see her waiting
I am pleading for a michigan dream girl
I am pleading for a michigan girl
See her come around
Big lie wrapped inside her little glove...
I close my eyes and I can see her waiting patient for me
I cover my ears
I clear my mind
She starts to fade...
(I am dreaming of a michigan girlfriend)
Shes starting to fade...
(I am dreaming of a michigan girl)
I close my eyes
I see her waiting oh so patient for me
I cover my ears
I close my mind
Shes starting to fade
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As a Michigan senator, I feel a special responsibility to protect the Great Lakes. They are not only a source of clean drinking water for more than 30 million people but are also an integral part of Michigan's heritage and its economy.
quote by Debbie Stabenow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red With Native Blood
Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
We have soiled it so, with our hands,
red with native blood.
The earth was stained, when we first came,
red with native blood.
We stole their domain, with a barbaric claim:
that we were civilised and they were not,
that they were the savages and we were not,
when we ravaged the land that began to clot,
red with native blood.
Not content with genocide
we interned them in reserves.
To break their culture
and tribal ways;
in stealing children
the state was brave,
to turn their women
into household slaves,
and hope their men would die,
unmourned, in lonely graves;
a problem to us no more.
Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
Acknowledge their just demands,
wash the stains from our hands,
give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Write I Must
To write I am forced,
By an angel, sweet;
My blood fast coursed,
To give a treat.
To my dismay,
I found nought to write;
My mind in disarray,
Is drab downright.
But write, write I must,
For my daughter darling;
Let her savour the crust,
Lest she go starving.
I know her appetite,
This poesy would whet;
So a little bite,
Would not make her fret.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The birth Identity.
It is my native place,
Where I was not born
And where my father came
As an adopted child.
I studied somewhere,
Worked and lived somewhere.
I have not settled there
Where I was born and hence
Would be cremated somewhere.
Still I call it as my native place
Where alone I still keep
Some sort of birth identity.
30.03.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Political Scientist
He is drinking water from the faucet from the river
From the tributary it comes through rusted pipes
Outside his window he sees the water that's supposed to be clean
By the chemicals polluted by the candy factory lines
Someplace on the edge of town
Someplace on the edge of town
Is where they live --
Political scientists
So now she is crawling on her hands and her knees
She is dirtying her jeans choking on her own perfume
With a pen she writes below the sink in someone's restaurant
This place is inconvenient for my name
She forgets to write it anyway
She forgets to write it anyway
The government supplies the cocaine
Political scientists
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
Banging hard upon a crooked drum
She feels them tearing down Salvation Army houses back in Michigan
Her husband's divorced but he treats her that way of course
Because he needs her just like he needs medicine
She forgets to write him anyway
She forgets to write him anyway
What's red and white and nearly over
Political scientist
Political scientist
Political scientist
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
There's no guarantees
song performed by by Ryan Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why I Write?
My child you ask me why
And so I give a sure reply
The reason why I write you ask?
I do so to unveil a mask -
To state a claim my dear
And dry these noble tears at last
The reason why I write
Is to be free -
As that young lad's kite
To flee from charmless grips
And stray from harm's lustful flight
You ask me why I write today?
I do so that you go away!
To a place, within my space
That way I'll have a worthy say
I write my dear to tell a tale
Of places that I once had sailed
The promises that were never had
The eluded dreams that made me sad
The reason why I write a verse
Is to soothe this soul I thought was cursed
To trod with care through lonely roads
And pray my troubles be reversed
The reason why I write to you
Is so you ‘ll see my point of view
That in all things, there is a verse
A spring that takes away all thirst
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
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Hotel.
Home is nowhere near.
Off of Michigan Ave. we'll
Have a place to rest.
(in Chicago)
poem by Amanda May Moore
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Bwtween two
forced to choose between the two,
forced to choose between honesty and dispair,
forced to choose between beauty and destruction,
forced to choose between life and death,
forced to choose between 3 years and 5 years,
forced to choose between who i am friends with,
and still with the choice of both i loose one.
poem by Matthew Boisjolie
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The Brave Volunteer
At the time of the rebellion
Between the north and south,
Many a noble volunteer
Kent county did send out.
Among them was Chyler Davis,
He hailed from Oakfield town,
He enlisted in the service,
His native land to shield.
This brave and noble volunteer,
He left his home and friends,
For he dearly loved his country,
He went from Michigan.
Not thinking when he went down south,
The Federal ranks to fill,
That he would lay in prisons,
Belle Isle to Andersonville.
In prison cells lamenting,
For seventeen months he lay,
Thinking of the dear ones
At home so far away.
He lay in prison suffering,
No friend to hear him moan,
A living, walking skeleton,
He was when he came home.
He was discharged in Kansas,
The place called Fort Leavenworth,
And he did return to Oakfield,
The place he first went forth.
How joyful were his parents
When they saw their then lost one;
The God of heaven was merciful
To let return their son.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Care
The noise of a crescent
climbs wordlessly.
In the night of dew and wind, for
its native starless beams-
holding the thread of a thought, walking
through wall of disbelief. Before and after
the murder of a spark; the heart misses
a beat. Cold sweat rustling on forehead;
you bend to pick up a coin,
a fake one. Possibility of becoming rich fades soon.
You want to say nothing. Troy, Michigan, USA
poem by Satish Verma
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I Write And Write And Write And Write
I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE
I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Writers Are Born Not Made
Ocean is dry
And fount not secreting
Wind still rove the dry land
In its usual way
I want to write
Everything in me want to write
Even though ocean is dry
And fog too thick i can't see remote place
I must write
I must make thess two lovers
Starring at each otherexpressionlessly
Make love to yield readables
Writers are born not made
Writers write and write
When ocean overflow its limit
When ocean overdry that feet could
Navigate the way of ships
Writers write and write
For is in them to write.
poem by Alade Abayomi IdrisWhite
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What I want to write
What I want to write
I could not write.
I could not write
Tiger tiger cat cat
And the difference they behaved.
I could not write
The sky and its fall
On our forehead.
What I want to write
I could not write.
I write how I loved
How flower blosom
How fruit ripe
How stream flow.
I could not know
How I write
And I write
What I want to write
I could not write.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Kicks
The fishermen on Lake Michigan, sometimes,
For kicks, they spit two hunks of bait on hooks
At either end of a single length of line
And toss that up among the scavenging gulls,
Who go for it so fast that often two of them
Make the connection before it hits the water.
Hooked and hung up like that, they do a dance
That lasts only so long. The fishermen
Do that for kicks, on Lake Michigan, sometimes.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Howard Nemerov
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