A Street Riot
Poor, hapless souls! at whom we stand aghast,
As at invading armies sweeping by —
As strange to haggard face and desperate cry —
Did we not know the worm must turn at last?
Poor, hungry men, with hungry children cast
Upon the wintry streets to thieve or die —
Suffering your wants and woes so silently -
Patient so long — is all your patience past?
Are there no ears to hear this warning call?
Are there no eyes to see this portent dread?
Must brute force rise and social order fall,
Ere these starved millions can be clothed and fed?
Justice be judge. Let future history say
Which are the greatest criminals to- day.
poem by Ada Cambridge
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The Mob
Why stand dumbfounded and aghast,
As at invading armies sweeping by,
Surprised by haggard face and threatening cry,
The storm unheralded, that rose so fast?
Men, with gaunt wives and hungry children, cast
Upon the wintry streets to thieve or die,
They cannot always suffer silently;
Patience gives out. The poor worm turns at last.
And no ear listens to the warning call.
No eye awakes to see the portent dread.
Must brute force reign and social order fall
Ere these starved millions can be clothed and fed?
A strange phenomenon, this, unconcern -
To live so fast and be so slow to learn!
poem by Ada Cambridge
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So Many Poor Souls And Not Many Who Care
So many poor souls and not many who care
Are doing it quite tough in the big World out there
The homeless and hungry teenagers of poverty street
Are searching in rubbish bins for something to eat
The gap is increasing in the social divide
And millions are Stateless and Homeless and hungry World wide
The victims of droughts and wars and disease
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.
The marginalized are doing it quite tough
On poverty street they are sleeping rough
People should not have to go hungry in the World of today
But such is not the case that does seem sad to say
For one wealthy person thousands in poverty
Those who need far more than words of sympathy
People who look old before they reach their life's prime
To be born to poor parents is their only crime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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At My Window
I move with windows which haunt me
windows which reveal
your face at two or three
each day I rise
seeking to know
what can I do
on your behalf
each meeting a testament
as to what I do or can do
for you
to relieve that suffering I see
in those eyes
world wide
in the cities of America
in the campesinos of Latin America
in the Somalia refugee camps
in the hungry children of Africa
among the garbage people of India
the black and latino children of America
the hordes and young of Islam
the displaced and disenfranchised
the Indonesian masses
the aboriginal masses of Australia
the descendants of American Indians
the black Irish poor
the Warsaw skeletal hordes
the Russian poor
the Chinese peasants working for pennies a day
the European displaced
the children of the 'Arab Spring'
the unnamed, the faceless
lying dead by the side of the road
killed and murdered
by vicious regimes
stilled witnesses
who protested or complained
life sucked from them by smug and the complacent
who craved their lattes
the 'who me's
who don't see their privileges were gained
at the expense of the slaves
at the expense of the poor
the blinded
the shunned
the lynched
the buried alive
all voicing
the cry
'it wasn't me
it was my distant
relative.'
All these are at the window
in my every meeting
silently intoning
'How long
my suffering
when will it be over?
And I vow
not long
not long
Not long
Not long
Not long
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In A Fair World
I cannot empathize with the poor since I'm not in poverty
And I can only imagine how miserable life must be
For those who go to sleep hungry they live with death each day
In a fair World this would not be it would be fair to say.
In a fair World this would not be but all in life's not fair
And thousands are in poverty for every millionaire
In third World Countries every year millions of hunger die
The crops don't grow in rain starved lands, the parched earth far too dry.
In a fair World there would be enough food to go around
And not one hungry person in the whole World to be found
But there is only hunger where poverty reside
And the gap between the haves and have nots has never been so wide.
In a fair World there would not be want and need and very little crime
But the social gap keeps widening despite the march of time
And I who have never lived in the slums or in a third World Land
What it feels like to be really poor could never understand.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Birthday Wishes
I can't believe time goes by so fast.
I'm 28 years old in November and finally
I have wishes to God that I'd like to pray.
I thank God for the gift of life.
My mind, ears, and eyes are open wide
Because of His unwavering support and guide.
I know I can never repay His greatest love.
I wish to live in a peaceful world
Where I have nothing to fear.
I wish to see my children playing,
Smiling, kissing, and hugging each other.
I'm quite nervous about the world today.
People have no money and getting hungry.
The poor people are becoming poorer
While the rich are becoming richer.
I wish to have justice for all people.
No more criminals and victims of crime
For the world to live in harmony and peace.
In silent prayers,
I thank God for the answers
To my birthday wishes.
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
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Judge of Justice (Why this Poverty)
With all my wisdom
The poor bow his head
Even in your kingdom
I do acknowledge
Before cruel hand of strength
There is no regards for knowledge
Many a time
I have seen
The poor being disregarded
And badly humiliated
Is this the justice awarded?
You the judge of justice
They have nothing
Only grief as wealth
Tears roll down their cheeks
They sleep hungry for weeks
O judge of justice
Why is this injustice
What was poor's foul
Of the tactless soul
Why you sent them to world
Full of men cruel and bold
Where without strength
Poor have to mew
You showered wealth
In the houses of few
By your great grace
Many are enjoying health
It's your presence
That flower give fragrance
Then why you deprived them
Of good health and ample wealth
Why embittered their life
Shrouded their soul with grief
O judge of justice
Why you did injustice
Shashikant Nishant Sharma 'साहिल'
=====©SNS==28 June 2003==@Patna=====
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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Stunted Growth, ,
Millions of our children naked and hungry,
Rolling on the streets to scratch the itch,
Stuffed noses and coughing throats,
Inflamed lungs, worm filled guts,
Bloated stomachs and teary eyes,
Thin hands and legs with thinner fingers and toes,
Millions of them all around the world,
Scavenging on the waste and left outs,
If children were the blooms,
What fruits can be expected,
Of these suffering silkworms?
Voiceless children of the world,
Suffer in silence in multi fold,
in The hands of abusive human,
The legs of run over ideologies,
The merciless hearts of economy,
Stunt not only their physical growth,
But also their innocent childhood.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Zoo
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
The job is done and I go out
Another boring day
I leave it all behind me now
So many worlds away
I meet my girl, shes dressed to kill
And all we gonna do
Is walk around to catch the thrill
On streets we call the zoo
We eat the night, we drink the time
Make our dreams come true
And hungry eyes are passing by
On streets we call the zoo
We eat the night, we drink the time
Make our dreams come true
And hungry eyes are passing by
On streets we call the zoo
Enjoy the zoo
And walk down 42nd street
You wanna be excited too
And you will feel the heat
We eat the night, we drink the time
Make our dreams come true
And hungry eyes are passing by
On streets we call the zoo
We eat the night, we drink the time
Make our dreams come true
And hungry eyes are passing by
On streets we call the zoo
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hungry Eyes
Hungry eyes
Ive been meaning to tell you
Ive got this feelin that wont subside
I look at you and I fantasize
You are mine tonight
Now Ive got you in my sights
With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I cant disguise
Ive got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you and i
I want to hold you so hear me out
I want to show you what loves all about
Darlin tonight
Now Ive got you in my sights
With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I cant disguise
Ive got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you
And Ive got hungry eyes
Now Ive got you in my sights
With these hungry eyes
Now did I take you by surprise
I need you to see
This love was meant to be
Ive got hungry eyes
One look at you and I cant disguise
Ive got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you
And Ive got hungry eyes
Now Ive got you in my sights
With those hungry eyes
Did I take you by surprise
With my hungry eyes
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Reading Of The World's 100 Wealthiest People
The World's many billion people controlled by the greedy few
But to every billionaire there is there are a million who
Go to sleep weak and hungry their wasted bodies thin
For days they haven't eaten their bones showing through their skin.
The World's 100 wealthiest people their names published today
And yet the poor grow poorer it has always been this way
And the social gap keeps widening and with it inequality
And not far from where the wealthy live there's want and poverty
Not far from where the wealthy live you see social decay
The slums that reek of poverty the buildings old and gray
The sad faced mother of the slums her kids out of control
Her husband in jail for larceny and she is on the dole.
Of the World's 100 wealthiest people why should I wish to know
When poverty is rampant and the numbers of the hungry grow
If the World's wealthiest person Bill Gates fed the hungry of Sudan
I too would sing his praises and I'd say what a man.
The World's wealthiest people their names published today
But not too far from where they live there is social decay
And that they are worth billions show how greedy they must be
When millions of poor people must live in poverty.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Crying For Bread
"Please, lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
The suit fits you splendidly--that you'll allow.
Oh! don't say tomorrow! I see you are going;
But this will not hinder long--please pay me now.
Ma work'd all night for you! ev'ry minute;
Now she lies groaning with pain in her head;
And there by the pantry (with not a thing in it),
Sits poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"
"On! driver, on! they have all gone before us,
And I will not be late at the ball," Beauty said;
And wintry winds echoed her answer in chorus
With poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!
"Please lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
I'll run and get change for you. Don't call me bold--
But how could you dance tonight all the time knowing
That we were left suffering, hungry and cold?
Ma looks so wild! she keeps calling for Daisy;
That was the name of my sister that's dead.
Oh! what shall I do, with my Ma going crazy,
And poor little Theodore cryiing for bread?
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"
"Please lady! please pay my Ma for her sewing;
She must have some medicine--that let me buy.
Now, don't speak of beggars! 'tis money you're owing:
Do please, pay me part of it--else we must die."
On the wheels roll'd, and Fidele returned weeping;
Ah! in her absence a spirit had fled,
And morning light found her a weary watch keeping,
With poor little Theodore crying for bread!
Poor little Theodore crying for bread!"
poem by Henry Clay Work
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The World's One Hundred Wealthiest
The World's many billion people controlled by the greedy few
But to every billionaire there is there are a million who
Go to sleep weak and hungry their wasted bodies thin
For days they have not eaten their bones showing through
their skin.
The world's one hundred wealthiest people their names published today
And yet the poor grow poorer it has always been this way
And the social gap keeps widening and with it inequality
And not far from where the wealthy live there's want and poverty.
Not far from where the wealthy live you see social decay
The slums that reek of poverty the buildings old and gray
The sad faced mother of the slums her kids out of control
Her husband in jail for larceny and she is on the dole.
Of the world's one hundred wealthiest people why should I wish to know?
When poverty is rampant and the numbers of the hungry grow
If the world's wealthiest person Bill Gates fed the hungry of Sudan
I too would sing his praises and I'd say what a man.
The world's weaalthiest people their names published today
But not too far from where they live there is social decay
And that they are worth billions show how greedy they must be
When millions of poor people must live in poverty.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Affinity
to say that i have a deep affinity for the Tibetan
people would be correct... but i also have a deep
affinity for all oppressed peoples.
for too long Americans have been insulated from
the hurt and suffering experienced around the world.
now it's come home to haunt us!
we can never forget: as long as anyone is hungry, we
are hungry. as long as anyone is struggling for freedom,
we are struggling for freedom. as long as anyone is
in need, we are in need. as long as anyone lives in
poverty, we are poor!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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That's Life One Must Suppose
At the bottom of the social rank and low in self esteem
That's where the haves want to keep the have nots or that's how it does seem
For every new member of the millionaires club there is more poverty
And that people of malnutrition die does not make sense to me,
When many have far more than enough but not enough to satisfy their greed
For them 'twould seem that much wants more that does seem sad indeed
Though some quite wealthy people some of their profits share
Amongst the struggling have nots of the bigger World out there
The social gap keeps widening getting bigger every day
And the poor are getting poorer or so 'twould seem that way
Many hungry and homeless and low in social rank
For the poverty of millions we do have greed to thank
Some have to go for months on end without a change of clothes
And the poor keep getting poorer that's life one must suppose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pounding
pounding, pounding nails,
pounding heartbeats, pounding feet.
pounding voices, pounding anger,
pounding need, pounding greed.
hungry, hungry eyes,
hungry souls, hungry holes.
hungry children, hungry countries,
hungry hands, hungry man.
throbbing, throbbing blood,
throbbing dreams, throbbing schemes.
throbbing ideas, throbbing hatred,
throbbing inside, throbbing cant hide.
touching, touching hearts,
touching true, touching you.
touching forbidden, touching daring,
touching color, touching wonder.
pounding, pounding nails...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Charity
O why your good deeds with such pride do you scan,
And why that self-satisfied smile
At the shilling you gave to the poor working man,
That lifted you over the stile?
'Tis not much; all the bread that can with it be bought,
Will scarce give a morsel to each
Of his eight hungry children;-reflection and thought
Should you more humility teach.
Vainglory's a worm which the very best action
Will taint, and its soundness eat through;
But to give one's self airs for a small benefaction,
Is folly and vanity too.
The money perhaps by your father or mother
Was furnished you but with that view;
If so, you were only the steward of another,
And the praise you usurp is their due.
Perhaps every shilling you give in this way
Is paid back with two by your friends;
Then the bounty you so ostentatious display,
Has little and low selfish ends.
But if every penny you gave were your own,
And giving diminished your purse;
By a child's slender means think how little is done,
And how little for it you're the worse.
You eat, and you drink; when you rise in the morn,
You are clothed; you have health and content;
And you never have known, from the day you were born,
What hunger or nakedness meant.
The most which your bounty from you can subtract
Is an apple, a sweetmeat, a toy;
For so easy a virtue, so trifling an act,
You are paid with an innocent joy.
Give thy bread to the hungry, the thirsty thy cup;
Divide with the afflicted thy lot:
This can only be practised by persons grown up,
Who've possessions which children have not.
Having two cloaks, give one (said our Lord) to the poor;
In such bounty as that lies the trial:
But a child that gives half of its infantile store
Has small praise, because small self-denial.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Six Foot Man
Well I was born six feet tall,
With no loving at all,
Had to rummage through my life of misery.
I had to go from place to place,
Never recognise my face,
I'm the moody man you never ever see.
Well, one day I placed a bet,
With the money I had left,
Did not know what the future held for me.
Through all the suffering and the pain,
If there's one thing that I've gained,
That's the patience that I now receive.
Poor boy,
Rich boy,
Well, what you gonna do boy?
Now that you have taken all the joy, oh, oh, oh.
And by the very next week,
I had headed a lucky streak,
I had won the lottery, four million pounds.
Opinion seemed to change so fast,
People hear that you've got cash,
? every single woman in this town.
Now I've got my limousine,
And the yacht upon the sea,
And the thousand friends I've never met before.
Through all the suffering and the pain,
Butthere's one thing that I've gained,
That's the knowledge that had when I was poor.
I was a poor boy,
Now I'm a rich boy,
Well, what you gonna do boy?
Now that you have taken all the joy, oh, oh, oh.
song performed by by Zutons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Total uprising
What are we witnessing today?
You mean total uprising and new way
“How can that be reality” friend from abroad exclaimed
I said “Yes” it is really surprising and claimed
“One man army” if any one prefers to call
Even mightiest of empires to crumble and fall
“What can you do old man and spent force”
Ruler boosted with all his strength without remorse
“My life is like open book and contains message”
It has nothing to do with my falling health or age
History may speak of vanished empire
People may express solidarity and admire
This is what we speak of people’s war
Even people disbelieve staying very far
How can non-violence bring about result?
At the cost of indignation, personal injury and insult
Power can blind even honest persons
It has wide ranging implications with reasons
No one can buy arguments when you are corrupted
You rise in anger when questioned and interrupted
This is how we, as nation, are suffering
No good sense prevails despite honest offerings
Love to wipe out the tears of poor
They are helpless and can’t knock every door
When poor are starved and fired upon?
Asking for honorable living and so on
No empire can stand on its own
It has fall down disgracefully and com down
History may be repeated and remembered
Country may gain real independence without dismembered
No one has come down or surrendered
But popular will is imposed or ordered
“Come down, O. tyrants” you will find no place
Give the rightful belonging if that is the case
We shall have it by popular will
Not a single shot being fired or person killed
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Man who Keeps his Head
THERE'S a man who fights for England, and
he'll keep her still atop,
He will guard her from dishonour in the market
and the shop,
He will save her homes from terror on the fields of
Daily Bread,
He's the man who sticks to business, he's the man
who keeps his head.
Let the foe who strikes at England hear her wheels
of commerce turn,
Let the ships that war with England see her factory
furnace burn;
For the foe most fears the cannon, and his heart
most quails with dread
When behind the man in khaki is the man who
keeps his head.
Brand him traitor and assassin who with miser's
coward mood
Has his gold locked up in secret and his larders
stored with food,
Who has cast adrift his workers, who lies sweating
in his bed,
And who snarls to hear the laughter of the man
Who keeps his head.
Let the poor man teach the rich man, for the poor
man's constant strife
Is from day to day to seek work, day by day to war
with life,
And the poor man's home hangs ever by a frail and
brittle thread,
And the poor man's often hungry, but the poor
man keeps his head.
When the ships come back from slaughter, and the
troops march home from war;
When the havoc strewn behind us threats the road
that lies before,
Every hero shall be welcomed, every orphan shall
be fed,
By the man who stuck to business, by the man who
kept his head.
poem by Harold Begbie from Poems of the Great War
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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