Better times perhaps await us who are now wretched.
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Ode to the Modern Work-Man
O, wretched modern work-man
The years, they pass you by
Everything you believe
Is nothing but a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
From your neckties to your socks
You’re nothing but a slave
To pictures in a box.
O, wretched modern work-man
You live for the Public Eye
Your life is but a parody
Whose foundation is a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strive, and save, and yearn
To keep up with the Kamaus
Spending more than you earn.
O, wretched modern work-man
You’re nothing but a slave
Your dreams are dead and buried
Lying in a shallow grave.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strangled your own dreams
You smothered your own happiness
Your hand stifled its screams.
O, wretched modern work-man
For the camera so aesthetic
Beneath the plastic smile
You’re pitiful and pathetic.
O, wretched modern work-man
You work yourself half to death
Chasing pounds and shillings
To swell another’s wealth.
O, wretched modern work-man
You lived your whole life as a show
Yet the only Watcher who mattered
Didn’t like what He saw.
O, wretched modern work-man
When you finally died
Your surname, and hospital bill
Were all you left behind…
Together We Await The Storm
Together We Await The Storm
This storm of love
Where the possiblitys are so great
Our love can take us any where
Together We Await The Storm
The love we have can last for ever
Together we share our souls as one
Together We Await The Storm
Together We Await The Storm
Together We Await The Storm
Tonight will be our night
Together We Await The Storm
Tonight will be THE night
Together We Await The Storm
The night of our love storm
poem by Kyle Matthews
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O wretched man, wretched not just because of what you are, but also because you do not know how wretched you are!
quote by Marcus Tullius Cicero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A wretched society
A wretched society-
I don’t sing love;
Instead I chant Krishn.
I don’t play romance;
Instead, I dance as Radha.
A wretched society-
I don’t keep men’s photos;
Instead, I keep their gifts.
I don’t befriend men;
Instead, I visit their wives.
A wretched society-
I don’t move with men;
Instead, I acquaint with cousins.
I don’t seek heroes;
Instead, I frequent seers.
A good daughter, a good sister,
A chaste wife, a good mother,
And a woman of modesty,
I have lived me to my peril.
A wretched society.
04.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I await the tree of wisdoms fruit to grow.
The horizon is a wavering constant
Forever beckoning wherever we may be.
Outside, slow, slumbersome clouds
Roll into the valley green, leaving me
Searching for a meaning to the dreams
That keep me awake at night un-sleeping.
I await the tree of wisdoms fruit to grow.
I await to know the seeds of tomorrow.
I await winters snow to thaw,
As here I remain clawing
At the boundaries of sanity
That keep the ghost of vanity
A shadow ever present
As opposed to a fading
Memory in decent.
poem by David Lacey
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The greatness of man is great in that he knows himself to be wretched. A tree does not know itself to be wretched.
quote by Blaise Pascal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meaning
bored
bored
bored
tire of to await
await what else
time elapsing off hand
without result
dried mucus
is true
I do not do the something
only searching word
without meaning
poem by Prasetya Utama
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In The Harbour: A Quiet Life. (From The French)
Let him who will, by force or fraud innate,
Of courtly grandeurs gain the slippery height;
I, leaving not the home of my delight,
Far from the world and noise will meditate.
Then, without pomps or perils of the great,
I shall behold the day succeed the night;
Behold the alternate seasons take their flight,
And in serene repose old age await.
And so, whenever Death shall come to close
The happy moments that my days compose,
I, full of years, shall die, obscure, alone!
How wretched is the man, with honors crowned,
Who, having not the one thing needful found,
Dies, known to all, but to himself unknown.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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So Connected To You
There are times when I'm happy
and times when I'm sad
and all of these times that I have had
are all connected to you,
so connected to you.
so connected to you.
There are times when it's sunny
and times when it's not
and all of these times I never forgot
were all connected to you,
so connected to you.
'Cause you have my heart on a string
and I can't control one little thing.
Where's my composure? Where did it go?
'Can't even answer for I don't know.
There are times when I'm jumpy
and times when I'm still
and times when I'm playful
like Jack and Jill.
And they're all connected to you,
so connected to you.
So what do I do to get over you?
You've got me crazy in love with you.
I take a step forward and fall back two
and everywhere that I go
there'll be times when I want you
and times when I don't.
There'll be times that I'll have you
and times that I won't
but there's absolutely nothing I can do
'Cause I'm connected to you,
so connected to you
So I know we can never be through.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Awaiting Thee
When thou art gone;
I sing my lonely song.
When thou art gone;
My waking hours are filled only with thoughts of thee.
When I sleep,
My dreams are filled with thee-
As I long for thee.
My love;
I await thee-
Lonely day,
After lonely day.
Lonely night,
After lonely night.
When The sun shines bright,
And the songbirds sing their joyous chorus-
It reminds me of this love of ours-
As I long for thee.
I await thee,
My love-
Throughout the lonely day-
Till the setting sun dwindles in dusk’s twilight-
Beyond golden pastures-
Fading in the night.
My love;
I long for thee.
My love;
I await thee-
Throughout the lonely night,
As the crickets chirp their symphony,
And in the darkness,
Like floating candles,
The fireflies glow.
And I remember our love,
As I gaze at the silver moon,
And diamond stars.
Forever embracing this love of ours.
As I sleep at night,
I dream only of being with thee,
My love.
As I awake,
And the sun rises at dawn over the emerald mountain tops,
I await thee,
My love.
Longing for you-
Day through day,
Night through night-
I await thee,
My love.
My love;
When thou art gone;
I sing my lonely song…
poem by Philip Alarie
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I Await Thee
When thou art gone;
I sing my lonely song.
When thou art gone;
My waking hours are filled only with thoughts of thee.
When I sleep,
My dreams are filled with thee-
As I long for thee.
My love;
I await thee-
Lonely day,
After lonely day.
Lonely night,
After lonely night.
When The sun shines bright,
And the songbirds sing their joyous chorus-
I remember our love-
As I long for thee.
I await thee,
My love-
Throughout the lonely day-
Till the setting sun dwindles in dusk’s twilight-
Beyond golden pastures-
Fading in the night.
My love;
I long for thee.
My love;
I await thee-
Throughout the lonely night,
As the crickets chirp their symphony,
And in the darkness,
Like floating candles,
The fireflies glow.
And I remember our love,
As I gaze at the silver moon,
And diamond stars.
And I Forever embrace this love of ours.
As I sleep at night,
I dream only of being with thee,
My love.
As I awake,
And the sun rises at dawn over the emerald mountain tops,
I await thee,
My love.
Longing for thee-
Day through day,
Night through night-
I await thee,
My love.
My love;
When thou art gone;
I sing my lonely song…
poem by Philip Alarie
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Depression
Everyone has this secret confession
At times, suffers inadequency and Depression
Feeling of lowliness and having not enough
Sometimes your ask is ‘material possessions'
At sea most of time, floating in critism
Touching the lows of blue and dejection
Things go bad n loose track
Its Life, has Downturns and Recessions
Stop feelling wretched and hapless
Life's beautiful, your cursing is transgression
"Adopt the pace of nature, its patience"
Times always in flux, So, misery stays? Out of Question.
poem by Samima Shah
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A Ballad
In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.
In a costly palace, when the brave gallants dine,
They have store of good venison, with old canary wine,
With singing and music to heighten the cheer;
Coarse bits, with grudging, are the pauper's best fare.
In a costly palace Youth is still carest
By a train of attendants which laugh at my young Lord's jest;
In a wretched workhouse the contrary prevails:
Does Age begin to prattle?-no man heark'neth to his tales.
In a costly palace if the child with a pin
Do but chance to prick a finger, straight the doctor is called in;
In a wretched workhouse men are left to perish
For want of proper cordials, which their old age might cherish.
In a costly palace Youth enjoys his lust;
In a wretched workhouse Age, in corners thrust,
Think upon the former days, when he was well to do,
Had children to stand by him, both friends and kinsmen too.
In a costly palace Youth his temples hides
With a new devised peruke that reaches to his sides;
In a wretched workhouse Age's crown is bare,
With a few thin locks just to fence out the cold air.
In peace, as in war, 'tis our young gallants' pride,
To walk, each one i' the streets, with a rapier by his side,
That none to do them injury may have pretence;
Wretched Age, in poverty, must brook offence.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Sometimes and Most of the Times
Sometimes I disagree,
but most most of the times, I confess that I am
Sometimes I assume,
But most most of the times, I confident the things are
Sometimes I ignore,
but most most of the times, I notice the way one thinks
Sometimes I conceal,
but most most of the times, I reaveal as I am
Sometimes I act,
but most most of the times, I show what is the real in Me
Sometimes I lie,
but most most of the times, I stand as Honest
Sometimes I hate,
but most most of the times I like the way one likes Me
poem by Abhijeet Deokar
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How Many Times
*how many tears have you cried
How many eyes have you dried
How many ways have you tried
And dont you get tired of people sayin
How many times, how many times
How many dream have been bad
How many nights have been sad
How many days have you had
When you get tired of people sayin
How many times, how many times
How many times, how many times
(*repeat)
I said tired of people sayin
Dont you get tired of people sayin
How many times, how many times
How many times, how many times
How many times, times, times, times
Times, times, times, times, times
song performed by by Peter Cetera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is War
The sun rises over the wretched trench.
Barbed wires line the way.
Shattered bodies and rounds of shells,
Fill the air with a ghastly stench.
The Reaper lay await for this harvest day,
Distant churches rung their death knell.
The sound of shots ringing,
Shatters the sleep of the dormant vale.
The rain of fire seems never to end,
The earth lies barren with no life clinging!
All the peace and serene locked in a gaol.
A remenant scar not lost in time's bend.
The pain, anguish and agony,
Never leaves the hearts of many.
Some mourn for the lost near and dear,
Some mourn for the peace,
We seldom cherish and cheer.
poem by Vivian Thompson
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For Janet
Death
Terrible wretched death
See how she suffered
Pain all over her body
Wretched wretched death
Pain
Unspeakable pain
Life sucked right out of her
She died unmercifully
Satan is a terrible deceiver
She doesn't hurt anymore
She doesn't ache all over
She is smiles
All full of smiles now
Can't you see her smiling
She finally defeated the enemy
She's so pretty
Long wavy brown hair
Pulled to the side
She's running with a smile on her face
Running to her Jesus
To our Jesus
Pretty pretty lady
We'll see you soon
Date of death August 22,1993
poem by TerriJo James
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On Betrayal
we often feel as if we've been betrayed...
and we're hurt, angry, scarred, and vindictive...
but the truth is we lead lives of betrayal.
times we fail others, times we fail ourselves.
times when we mean to do the right thing,
and dont follow through.
times we excuse ourselves by
saying we're following our heart.
times we turn away,
and blame it on circumstance.
times we dont dare to do what life demands.
times we choose indifference,
times we think we've already given enough.
times we choose the easy way out.
times we are not grateful...
times we dont forgive but expect forgiveness.
times we dont speak what our heart feels,
until it's too late....
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Don't Think So
I Don't Think So
We've been through this time together
AlI in my mind the love was so alive
Oh I never wanted for another
Then I saw the beginnings of a Iie
Good times and the bad times
Through the good times and the bad times with me
Good times and the bad times
Yeah I wonder why I never see
Good times and the bad times
Oh maybe there was always something wrong
Good times and the bad times
Did l wait too long
Chorus:
You said you'd love me for all of your life
I don't think so
Through the best of the best and the worst of the times
I don't think so
You said the world was a beautiful place
l don't think so
You swore the love was perfectly sale
I don't think so
People can only stay together
If in their hearts they know they can say what's on their minds
Would you say
Good times and the bad times
If it can't really be then I gotta move on
Good times and the bad times
Is it really time
Chorus: (repeat)
Said the check's in the mail and the maiI's on time
I don't think so
Said out of touch ain't out of mind
I don't think so
Couldn't live without me, and that's a fact
I don't think so
Love is real and it's not an act
I don't think so
Come on
Good times and the bad times
I don't think so
Good times and the bad times
Baby our love was a beautiful thing
I don't think so
Good times and the bad times
You said you'd love me for all of your life
I don't think so
Good times and the bad times
Through the best of the best and the worst of times
I don't think so
l don't think so baby oh baby oh baby come on
I don't think so
The love was right but the loving was wrong
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mad Dogs Feast Upon The Weak
Only mad dogs
power insatiable
will prey upon
the wretched
forsaken
of the earth.
Only mad dogs
will boast
of exploiting
the wretched
down trodden
of the earth.
Hopelessness
faith
devouring
hopelessness...
is a cancer
mastered cured
true disciples
live by faith alone...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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