The Poor
In congested homes of slums
The poor people live –
No one listens to their grief!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Related quotes
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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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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That Millions Do Live In Poverty
That millions do live in poverty should never be seen as okay
The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps getting bigger by the day
Everyone should have the chance to live happy a home to live in and enough for to eat
There never should be slums and ghettos and never a poverty street,
That millions are born to live in poverty and to end their hard lives in despair
Only tells us if there's a god that god favours the wealthy and that god is not very fair
To leave millions homeless and dying of malnutrition the people condemned to die poor and young
In the refugee camps of the World live the displaced, the poor and unsung,
In the age of celebrity worship the poor in millions multiply
Why millions are destined to be poor don't ask me I wouldn't know why
Even in the World's wealthiest Countries poor people are no longer rare
And millions and millions of have nots in the bigger World out there
And millions are dying of hunger and millions are doing it tough
And millions are displaced and homeless and as refugees living it rough.
poem by Francis Duggan
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(W – 2011) Random Musings – 009
Some live in plush mansions
Some live in slums and on the streets
Those in slums and on the streets
When fight with each other
For survival
Others happen to see
And call that
Dirty, wretched and uncultured life.
When those inside plush mansions
Fight with each other
To feed their greed
Nobody happens to see
And calls that
Refined, decent and cultured life.
In the end
Those who fight for survival
Shed tears of comforting grief
Those who fight to feed their greed
Shed tears of devastating repentance.
I have been very happy with my homes, but homes really are no more than the people who live in them.
quote by Nancy Reagan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Threats To Keep A People In Grief
How can we seek solutions...
When our denials love to bask,
In a pleasing done by deceit.
How can we non-fictionalize our lives,
When fiction is all we seek.
How can we ever expect to accept the truth,
When none of it is believed.
And how is a greatness once perceived,
So willing to feed decadence...
And allow conflict and division succeed.
All of these may be questions!
But the opportunity to answer them,
Become threats to keep a people in grief.
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
Threats to keep a people in grief.
'Why no one answers them? '
They're threats to keep a people in grief!
'Why? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This be the last time we use the phrase 'Slumdog
We, as Indians, have reasons
To be proud of having
Created history by the film
“Slumdog Millionaire”
At the same time, we, as human beings,
Have to have hung our heads for
Having created slums
Slum, as it means
An overcrowded area of a city,
Where the housing is in a very bad condition
And people live in unhygienic conditions
With no basic facilities
And who created slums,
Not the people residing there
But those whose greed has brought
These slum dwellers into these
Unfit-for-living conditions
The technicalities employed in
Filming this movie deserve all praise
While the different ways of living
Of the slum dwellers equally deserve attention
Of the entire human race
For correction and improvement
The film was declared to be
The best-directed
While the slum tribes have no directions
And they have no one to direct
The film was declared to be
The best film
While the slum where the film was shot
Is the worst place
For any human being
Let the recognition of the film
Bring to light the plight of slumdogs
To the fore
And let the human race do everything
Possible to move these people
Out of the slums, wherever they are,
And to help them live a decent, if not better, living
We shall be doing a great service
If this becomes the last ever time
We use this phrase “Slumdog”
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Who Do These People Think They Are
Who do these people think they are they take far more than they give?
They rule the World through their Bureaucracies and they tell us how to live
The tycoons of the twenty first century their financial nest egg grow and grow
In a World where millions live in poverty of poverty they do not wish to know.
They believe in free markets and their pet subject free trade
And in their dealings with Third World Countries millions in money they have made
But they do not believe in the free movement of people or in homes for refugees
When confronted with these subjects they do seem ill at ease.
They control big Government and tell them what to do
And that money speaks all languages so happens to be true
And whilst they grow rich and richer and more financially secure
The have nots of the World so sad to say grow poor.
Who do these people think they are for to satisfy their greed
They take and take and too few of them think of those who are in need
And most of the World's assets with the very wealthy few
And the poor keep getting poorer only happens to be true.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Well After Death
Love India and its people
Not all are in trouble
Where else such things not exist?
To watch and help is right thing to insist
It is nice to feel
Think and express with strong will
Let poor people come out of their plight
Let us help them with courage to fight
Let people of universe show solidarity and unite
For removal of poverty and offer to fight
It has to be made as universal struggle
To take them out from the plight and troubles
Poverty is curse
Children are in poor state with tears
For the want of nutritious food
Their plight is never understood
Where do they live now?
In drainage pipes or in open with cows
Animals are looked after well
But these people have different stories to tell
Even well to do countries suffer same
Who can be passed on with blame?
Fact remains fact and can be seen
It should not be made as worst scene
We don't talk of slums
We don't beat drums
To create noise
Without any promise
Feel no mercy
It is known to almighty
We need to respond with only faith
Rest all may be well only after death
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Little Homes
We have heard the cheering, brothers,
We have heard the martial peal;
We have seen the soldiers marching
And the glint of sun and steel.
We have heard the songs, the shouting;
But, while forth the soldier roams,
Who has heard the weeping, brothers,
In the Little Homes?
We have seen the gay processions
And the careless, laughing crowds.;
We have seen the banners waving
Out against the peaceful clouds;
Yet, while colors proudly flutter
Over noble spires and domes,
Who has seen the mourning, brothers,
In the Little Homes?
From the Little Homes that nestle
Where the smiling fields sweep wide,
From the Little Homes that huddle
In the city, side by side,
They have called the eager fighters
Men who went with smiles and cheers;
Pride of wives and pride of mothers,
Choking back the tears!
Women of the little homesteads,
Women of the city slums,
They are waiting, ever waiting;
And the sound of muffled drums
In some stricken Home is echoed,
Where grey Grief is guest to-day.
And to-morrow? Nay, the others
Still must wait - and pray.
What the Little Homes shall suffer,
What the Little Homes shall pay
Must be more than sturdy fighters,
More than women's grief to-day.
In the years that follow after,
Be our battles won or lost,
In the Little Homes, my brothers,
They shall pay the cost.
They shall pay the cost of glory,
They shall pay the price of peace,
Years and many long years after
All the sounds of battle cease.
When the sword is sheathed - or broken
When the battle flag is furled,
Still the Little Homes must suffer
Over all the World.
Have you seen the old grey mothers
Smiling to the ringing cheers?
Have you seen the young wives striving
Bravely to hold back the tears?
Have you seen the young girl marching
By her soldier-lover's side?
Have you, seen our country's women
All aglow with pride?
Then, shall we think shame, my brothers,
To give thanks upon our knees
That the land we love should hold them
Wives and mothers such as these?
Women who still hide their sorrow
As their soldiers march away,
Turning brave and steadfast faces
To the light of day?
Oh, the Little Homes are Cheerful
Little Homes that know no pride
But the pride of sacrificing
Loved ones to the battle tide!
They are many, many brothers,
And their sacrifice is great.
Shrines are they and sacred places,
Where the women wait.
Aye, the Little Homes are holy
At the closing of the day,
When young wives must face their sorrow,
When grey mothers kneel to pray,
Facing, all alone, dread visions
Of the land the soldier roams,
Then God heed the sobbing, brothers,
In the Little Homes.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Illiteracy
some homes breed love
some homes breed hatred
some homes breed moderation
some homes breed extremes
some homes breed worldliness
some homes breed racism
some homes breed kindness
somehomes breed religious bigotry
throw in illiteracy and any country would be bloom to bits
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Poor Children
They are the future of humanity
But many of them living in poverty
And without shelter homeless on the street
Searching through rubbish bins for scraps of food to eat.
Poor children are victims of circumstance
In life they never really get a chance
Or have opportunities as privileged children do
The road from the poor suburb to prison leads them to.
From broken homes they are condemned to fail
Their abusive and drug addicted parents serving time in jail
Their parents too homeless in their teen years
On no hope street no laugther only tears.
The Government does not care about those who live in poverty
No political advantage in philanthropy do they see
Their tally men for them have taken note
That few in the poor suburb ever bother for to vote.
Poor children without homes and sleeping rough
And life for them already hard enough
At the wrong end of the social divide
Any chance of a good future to them is denied.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Some People
Some people seem to have it all
Some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused
Some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people pray before they kill
Some people kill just for the thrill
Some people follow one mans vision, some others die on television
Some people build their homes on sand, some people live in garbage cans
Some people think that live is dear, some people hope the end is near
Some people fight for right to life, some people hate to stay alive
Some people dream of life on mars, some people end their life in cars
Some people throw their lives away, some others go on holidays
Some people live and love in vain, some people dont and go insane
Some people always need to win, some other people love to sin
Some people breaking all their vows, some people slashing sacred cows
Some people like to worship stars, some people think the worlds a farce
Some people try to make ends meet, some others end up kissing feet
Some people find their holy grail, some other people go to hell
Some people never catch their breath, some people drink themselves to death
Some people seem to have it all, some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused, some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people
!
Gold/ocean/1994
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tornados
Tornados,
You rip thourgh house's and homes.
Destroy house as you spin along.
Kill so many of those inesent people, when they think they will be fine then you rip and suck up there shrine.
Leave house's and mess all over the place.
As on April the third 1956 over 400 tornado suck up the homes and left famlies and freinds with broken hearts and left hospitals filled with sad people with bad enjuries that left the, poor nurse's and Doctors work till daylight with out any power fo over 24 hours that ment that some people would die overs in criddicle conditions so remeber April the first is a very, sad day
poem by Catherine smith
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Softly, O! dropp mine eyes
Softly, O! dropp mine eyes, lest you be dry,
And make my heart with grief to melt and die.
Now pour out tears apace,
Now stay, O heavy case!
O sour sweet woe!
Alas! O grief! O joy! Why strive you so?
Can griefs and joys at once in one poor heart consent?
Then sigh and sing, rejoice, lament.
Ah me! O passions strange and violent!
Was never poor wretch so tormented:
Nor joy, nor grief can make my heart contented.
For while with joy I look on high,
Down, down I fall with grief, and die.
poem by John Wilbye
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How Can A Poor Man Stand Such Times & Live ?
(alfred reed)
(g) - (c) - (g7) - (d) - (d7) - (am)
(g) I remember a time when every (d) thing was (g) cheap
Now prices nearly puts a man to (d) sleep
(d7) well, when we (g) get our grocery (g7) bill
We (c) feel like making our (am) will
Tell me, (g) how can a poor man (d7) stand such times and (g) live ?
Tell me, (g) how can a poor man (d7) stand such times and (g) live ?
Well, the doctor comes around with his face all bright
And he says, in a little while youll be all right!
Well, all he gives is a humbug pill
Dose of dope and a great big bill
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
Most preachers, well, they preach for gold and not for soul
Well, thats what keeps us poor folks always in a hole
Now, we can hardly get our breath
Taxed and schooled and preached to death
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live ?
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The same people live...the same people die
The same people live, the same people die,
the same people laugh, the same people cry,
as they push on through, life's open door,
the old and the young, the rich and the poor.
The same people love, the same people hate,
the skeptics of heaven, the mockers of fate,
some use the gun, some just don't choose,
the proud and the vain, they win and they lose.
Death takes them all, the end's all the same,
no one can help us, cause no one's to blame,
When the door shuts and the bright lights go dim,
We all follow the same path and we all go to Him.
The same people live, the same people die,
Some still find wealth, while others get by,
the weak and the strong, the slow and the fast,
alone on life's journey, they all stumble past.
It's been this way, since the beginning of time,
To live...it's a joy, to die...it's a crime,
and still, we question and still, we ask why?
The same people live...the same people die.
poem by David Lessard
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Grief Is Never Having To Say I Grieve
Your grief has been too heavy
I don’t know how much grief buries you down
Please let me weep with you
Please let me weep with you
Like the others, I adore you for keeping up with life
I could imagine how you cry in your thoughts
How like blade, grief cuts your heart, your throat,
the top of your skull - slowly
Like wars in history, there are no exits
and there are no choices
If you were there, you had to face those rattling guns
Plead, please plead
Remember “Our Lady of Sorrows'
Mary carried part of the grief Jesus has
been carrying to save us, during the crucifixion
Mary had no one with her
She was helpless, yet in those moments
God’s strength kept her unmovable and brave
How long does grief stay?
People are not things
How long does grief stay?
If you lost something, you can always build it again
How long does grief stay?
If you lost someone, and someone, and someone
again, in any way – they are part of you
For as long as you live, grief changes into
remembering happy days with each other
Grief becomes faithfulness
Grief changes unto faith
Those drops of blood, while Jesus prayed in the garden
Is grief
Grief is never having to say “I grieve, ”
but “I love, ”
This is how long grief stays.
poem by Rosalinda Flores Martinez
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Live Life
Have you heard about trouble throughout the land
With the fascists and the left wing militants
Out of work executives are killing themselves
And the i.r.a. are killing everybody else
Dont panic, dont lose control
Keep your head, keep ahold
Act normal theres nothing wrong
Stay cool, just carry on
You gotta live life and be yourself
You cant live life for anyone else
You gotta live life thats all you do
Nobody gonna live your life for you
Dont get depressed when you read in the press
About world revolution and social unrest
Try not to panic when you switch on the news
And see crooked politicians and the unemployment queues
Its only life its really fine
So dont you believe all you read in the headlines
Live life see it through
Carry on its all you can do
You gotta live life for yourself, cant live for anyone else
You gotta live life, thats all you do
Nobody gonna live their life for you
Extra verse from long version:
Trendy intellectuals always take action,
For every cause thats ever been in fashion.
Weekend revolutionaries protest and sing
Because theyre dedicated followers of any old thing.
They got every solution for every revolution.
They live in the slums just like the poor people do
But theyd rather sniff coke instead of glue.
Right-wing fascists beat up the blacks,
Then they salute the union jack.
You cant pretent theres nothing wrong,
Its not the end, so just carry on.
Oh, lifes a mother, oh, lifes a mother
Oh, lifes a mother, oh, lifes a mother
You gotta live life for yourself, cant live life for anyone else
You gotta live life, thats all you can do
Nobody gonna live their life for you
Live life, you gotta live life
You gotta live life, you gotta live life
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homes
I am not blushing due to my home,
In this structure I do live.
This home is a scent and sense,
A link to the outside.
My blushing is of others, of rude strangers,
Who keep my home’s façade with dignity.
Home has a heavenly scent, suspense is in the ceiling,
The narrow corridors rely on spiders to clean the aura,
As cobwebs are so wonderful.
My faith is in the homes we build
For the rich and the poor,
The rich are in agony, and the poor savour
The air of the rooms they live in.
poem by Naveed Akram
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