Better Dead than Alive!
A vulture sits behind a little boy,
Who squats for ‘Nature Calls’ amidst a field-
A village practice (without safe toilets) ,
And wonders if the kid’s alive or dead!
Mal-nourished grossly, looking ‘skin and bones’,
The child appears so sick, with weakened frame;
He struggles at defecation at noon!
The scorching summer sun adds to his woes!
A snake lies curled around the neck of boy!
The child looks blue as if bitten by it;
His naked body looks so very frail;
One wonders if he will complete his task.
The vulture could have mistaken the boy
For some kind of a beast about to die;
It waits to peck the frame if motionless;
’Tis all the same if boy is live or dead!
Such ghastly scenes are rife in poor countries,
Whose villages are poverty-stricken;
Where illiteracy, lack of hygiene,
Lack of good food- affects most of their young.
While affluence afills the posh cities,
Stark-nakedness stigmatizes suburbs;
How does a nation boast of great progress,
When kids by millions stay ravished and sick?
Is it man-made or scourge of wrath of Gods?
Blame ourselves for this sad state of affairs;
When ‘Big money’ goes down the drain always,
Why human kids stay starved, naked and sick?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-11-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Have a Heart for Children, Poor!
In poverty born, bred, they live
In misery and future bleak,
All famished, ravished and ill-clad –
Most children of the modern world!
Their parents have to slog all day;
They can’t afford a single meal;
They cannot go to school but stay
As rag-pickers all life and earn.
What folly have their parents done?
The poor are unlucky always;
Their future is like broken glass,
That cannot be together put!
In mud-walled huts and roofs of leaves,
With longing eyes that beg for food,
Half-naked children wait to hear
The foot-steps of their parents come.
With weathered faces, unkempt hair,
With innocence without compare,
With mal-odor that fills the air –
How much of sorrow can they bear?
Their eyes appear to speak and plead
To anyone who passes by,
‘Have mercy on us, poor children;
We smile despite our hunger-pangs! ’
Their eyes look muddy, lack-lustre;
Their anguished hearts, enfeebled frames;
Not enough blood afills their veins;
Their food is deficient always!
Their eyes speak volumes of ill-luck,
And torture by human beings;
Their bodies bear the scars of past
unfairness, meted out by all!
They have to walk for miles bare-foot,
to fetch a pot of water that
can never quench their thirst for long
but causes diarrheal deaths!
And Nature’s furies take their toll,
As rain and floods and droughts unfold;
Diseases turn them invalids –
The God who made them watches on!
But blame must go to mankind first,
Whose wastage, wrongs and ill-wrought plans
Reduced most of the human race
To existence in poverty!
A few on earth have richer turned,
by making rest of poor, poorer!
Their hearts of greed can’t be appeased
Until their death-knell’s gong is belled!
’Tis strange to watch how hunger kills
the children of stark poverty,
Whilst big money goes down the drain
and rodents, pests eat most food-crops!
Beware of eyes of children poor!
In silent, wordless, ways, they plead
To God to change their misfortune:
Unleash His wrath upon the rich!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-27-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Sick......
i am sick of your justice...
sick of dead bodies strewn,
sick of your bursts of gunfire,
and your bombs without conscience.
sick of the napalm fingers of your equality,
trading flesh for nickels and dime.
sick of your powder and your pills,
sick of the rape of the young girl
beneath your flag!
i am sick of your nuclear bibles,
sick of your buying and trading.
i am sick of the pound of your oil rigs,
sick of the stink of your morality.
i am sick of your hanging trees,
your courtrooms stacked.
i am sick of the money you sleep with,
sick of your colorless freedom.
i am sick of your smokestacks gone silent.
sick of your riot squads gassing.
i am sick of the amendments you've twisted,
sick of your hate and your prejudice...
i am sick of your slavery,
your prisons, your human rights violations.
i am sick of your political lies....
revolution, by common bond,
the choice of integrity, or death!
the dignity of the human soul demands,
that we live or we die!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick of Being Sick
I’m sick of being rejected;
I’m sick of being emotionally neglected;
I’m sick of crying so many tears;
I’m sick of running away from my fears;
I’m sick of my childhood nightmares;
I’m sick of being told to do those stupid dares;
I’m sick of not having friends;
I’m sick of all these dead ends;
I’m sick of myself for what I’ve become;
I’m sick of feeling oh so numb;
I’m sick of watching myself drown;
I’m sick of my heart falling to the ground;
I’m sick of this life;
I’m sick of this everyday strife;
I’m sick of not having a dad;
I’m sick of getting mad;
I’m sick of my childhood past;
I’m sick of being harassed;
I’m sick of the dread;
I’m sick of wanting to be dead;
I’m sick of being the one who’s always so strong;
I’m sick of being somebody that doesn’t belong! !
poem by Shelby Brockway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Sick....
I am sick …. The pain I feel.
I am sick…. This must be surreal.
I am sick…. I will not die.
I am sick…. But I must live on with this lie.
I am sick…. It’s not like cancer it’s not that bad.
I am sick… but the say depression goes with this pain I have.
I am sick…. It will never disappear.
I am sick…. My days will go on with the same o’l tear.
I am sick…. That I have thought of taking my pain away.
I am sick…. For that I cannot for the pain must stay.
I am sick… and no one can fix me.
I am sick…. That no one can see.
I am sick…. They believe nothing is wrong with me.
I am sick…. Because of this disease.
I am sick…. Because I beg god please.
poem by Winifred Harkness
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Happy Ending For Ugliness
Grotesque blood in his veins did offensively soak
All beauty from his flesh left humanly wry
Nature did create a human in ugly cloak
Deformed and hideous to every human eye
Man naught look, and looked the other way
As kids spat, laughed and did as they pleased
The ugly man sulked in sadness and did secretly pray
As the young children sneered and derisively teased
‘God love every child's joy, their every laugh
And pity every man, have mercy on the blind
Blame not nature, or nature's sickly wrath
For my ugliness, but be merciful and holy kind.'
While dressed in sodden raiment, penniless penury cloth
Putrid in scent, and malignant rotten skin
Each cloth hole pillaged by feigning disgusting moth
A symbol of life's cruelty, nature's many sin
Other men did say ‘Children! Children! stay away from him
He must not be a healthy man, but sick and ghastly
Ugliness in a human body full to the brim
Touch him and degenerate into death hastily
and thine mother transform from love to grim.
The ugly man sobbed as daring kids kicked
His gaunt limpid body, his fleshless skin soar
A stigma to man, with stigma's needle they pricked
Till the ugly man could take no more
And through his eyes, his offensive blood did pour
Onto the shabby road, wert the ugly man in God' peace die
While the kids mourned, and a vision appeared
‘You wert cruel to me and I know not why?
I love thee so, so with love thy conscience is cleared'
The beautiful soul transcended into the heavenly night
The kids in shame on their necks did hang
Their heads to peer into their souls own light
As the angels of love in tears beautifully sang
God loves children, beautiful or ugly, all children wrong or right……..
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Flood
The water flows to any place,
Flooding the land en way;
Submerging roads, bridges and fields,
Filling the wells and lakes;
It spares no one and humans too,
Neither the beasts nor trees;
Carrying the garbage and rubbish
And the entire sewage of state;
Whole villages have been cut off;
Many have been marooned;
Shelterless and starving in the cold;
Some clutch on to pieces of wood;
And stay alive for some more time,
Afraid to lose their hold;
There’s no water to even drink;
The people are all stark-naked;
And all they see is sea-water,
No food is in sight for many miles;
Oh, what havoc, the storm has wrought
On a state so poor!
So many fishermen are lost;
And many must have died;
Perched atop trees dangerously,
Birds too have not been spared;
They have lost their nests in trees;
And eggs and young ones as well;
The rain is pouring incessantly;
None can escape its brunt;
The state is cut into ‘islets’,
With corpses, carcasses afloat;
The air is filled by malodor;
The stench unfit to breathe;
Many human lives have lost in flood,
The place is diseases-prone;
Should nature be so unkind
To human beings on earth?
Help seems to come at a snail’s speed;
Thousands were swept alive;
No one knows the numbers lost;
A pall of gloom covers;
Will the flood-waters ever recede?
Will the sun dry up the land?
Lakhs of houses have been washed off;
God help the poor victims!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-8-1999
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Earth has Hidden Dangers
The earth has built-in hidden dangers great,
That Mother Nature shows when furious;
And when released, most people call it ‘fate’;
Blame man for his callousness curious.
All appears calm beholding surface things;
Yet, Nature takes man by surprise at times;
Though man performs great feats amongst earthlings,
By natural hazards, Mother Nature chimes!
Man wonders why God should allow ruin?
Good things are lost when Nature strikes terror;
But do they come because of man’s great sin?
–Affirms the punished, ravished survivor!
Yet, if man prays to God, his perils cease;
God’s mercy rains and world returns to peace!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-12-11
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Have Mercy on thy Children, Man!
’Tis only man who kills his own
offsprings while in their mother’s womb;
And turns his human heart to stone,
and sanctity of womb to tomb!
The womb is now a slaughter-house!
The child can’t see the light of day;
The blame doesn’t go to either spouse;
The unborn children have no say!
What evil heart dares bring piecemeal
The little ‘homo sapiens’,
Forgetting it can sense and feel,
And lies in womb without defence!
The life within the womb hasn’t rights;
Parents decide the unborn’s fate;
No one will change the poor child’s plight;
Millions have died this way till date!
What cruel gadgets harm the child,
Dismembering it while alive!
Such things aren’t done by beasts in wild,
Freedom to live, can man deprive?
When man can kill his own like this,
What wrath can fill the heart of God!
Will Nature not deny him bliss,
And give him on earth stern a rod?
Man, have a heart for little ones;
Life is life in the tiniest ant!
If you pile corpses in the tons,
No living God will hear your chant.
All human lives are sacred most;
Man can’t kill babies and then boast;
Such murders will become a ghost,
And haunt him life-time, turning worst!
The God who allows life to start
Cannot forgive the man who kills,
For flimsy reasons without heart by
In ruthless ways and ev’n pills!
Oh, stop these senseless killings, man!
Lest scourge of God fall upon you!
Do good and increase your life-span;
Let evil thoughts not woo you through!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-24-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poverty-I
Lot of hunger and having no food is poverty,
Not having spare cloth to take bath is poverty,
Needing a shelter but not having one is poverty,
Child's sick but can not buy treatment, is poverty,
Fainting child dreaming a mouthful of rice is poverty
Searching warmth in cold flesh in winter nights, is poverty,
Sitting with umbrella on wetting bed in showering night, is poverty,
Thoughtful mother, two mouthful of rice and three children, is poverty,
An ill, deserted mother selling her child wishing it will survive, is poverty.
A defeated and desponded mother poisoning and killing her child is poverty,
.
.
posted on 31-07-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm sick
I’m sick of always waiting for the breaks I never get,
I’m sick of being left behind and sleeping in my sweat,
I’m sick of making money when the ends are never met,
I’m sick of being sick of life I’m trapped inside a net,
I’m sick of having to be strong when I’m a nervous wreck,
I’m sick of working dead-end jobs that lack any respect,
I’m sick of waiting in a line where I am never next,
I’m sick of knowing that I’ll never truly be the best,
I’m sick of acting normal when I know that I’m a mess,
I’m sick of other people saying that I’m really blessed,
I’m sick of having all this pain I feel inside my chest,
I’m sick of being stressed, I’m feeling so depressed,
I’m reaching for a goal that very few are to obtain,
And no more strength is left in me because of all the pain,
I know that I have said that there is God inside the rain,
But where is God in moments when my bodies feeling drained,
And where is God in moments when a prayer won’t explain,
The fact that I was born a baby lacking half a brain,
The fact my hands and feet are tied together by these chains,
I can’t break free I need some help but all I get is blame,
I’m blamed for the mistakes I’ve made and it is such a shame,
I know that I’m a winner yet I’m losing to life’s game,
I’m losing my religion and all I do is entertain,
The other mindless people I swear this life is so mundane,
I’m always asking why,
I always say I try,
I’m looking to the sky,
Accept the pain and fly.
poem by Nathan Streango
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im sick
im sick of not knowing,
im sick of not showing,
im sick of all the starring
im sick of not caring
im sick of being labled bad
im sick of always looking sad
im sick of feeling locked in bars
im sick of all the painful scars
im sick of all the thugs
im sick of all the drugs
im sick of asking myself why
im sick of telling myself i want to die
im sick of feeling like i always want to cry
im sick of living a lie
im sick of not having a dream
im sick of lifes borring theme
but thares only one was out...
so what does that mean?
poem by Malorie Genoff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Sick
im sick of not knowing,
im sick of not showing,
im sick of all the starring
im sick of not caring
im sick of being labled bad
im sick of always looking sad
im sick of feeling locked in bars
im sick of all the painful scars
im sick of all the thugs
im sick of all the drugs
im sick of asking myself why
im sick of telling myself i want to die
im sick of feeling like i always want to cry
im sick of living a lie
im sick of not having a dream
im sick of lifes borring theme
but thares only one was out...
so what does that mean?
poem by Ricky Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Doctors’ Day,2008
All doctors are not demi-gods;
No doctor is miraculous;
All doctors are human beings,
Who help the sick and try to cure.
But doctors deal with human lives;
The profession’s noblest of all;
The Healer is Almighty God;
The doctor is His instrument.
The world is rife with ailments new;
The doctor strives his best to cure;
The doctor lessens suffering;
The miracles are done by God.
Yet, newer therapies have come;
The future for patients is bright;
Let people be more health-aware,
And live lives longer happily.
‘A Happy Doctors’ Day, ’08! ’
Pray God gives cures for more ailments;
The body’s, mind’s health stands foremost;
The doctor is like you, human.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-1-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happiness Is Not Comforts
‘Does Happiness depend upon comfort? ’
The answer is definitely a big, ‘No! ’
Happiness lies in not comforts alone!
Happiness is not a static quality of the human mind, body and soul.
All can’t remain happy all the time.
It would be foolishness to wish for a life, filled with happiness alone;
Happiness is more when woes come in-between.
Happiness is just a feeling weird!
Life could become boring and monotonous, when happiness is prolonged.
Even the pauper can be happier than the prince.
Even the beggar smiles and sleeps well, despite much strife.
Happiness is a frame of mind that’s dynamic in nature;
Happiness is a kind of mood of feeling very well;
Happiness is a state of one, when life seems worth living;
Happiness is something strange that varies with time, experience and wisdom.
Happiness is all within;
Happiness is in giving;
Happiness is in sharing;
Happiness is the ceiling, whatever you fix!
Happiness does not wholly depend on comforts;
Happiness cannot be bought by money;
Happiness is not all luxury;
Happiness is abstract to the core!
Happiness is in being child-like, though adult;
Happiness is in making and seeing the less fortunate ones, smile;
Happiness is in acting adult-like, although a child
Happiness is in giving something to someone, although you still need it.
Happiness is in sacrificing for others’ sake;
Happiness is in giving up your chance to someone, who most needs it;
Happiness is in doing acts of charity;
Happiness is when you’ve led a righteous life.
Happiness to some is in dreams alone;
Happiness to some doing risky feats;
Happiness to a few is in a sheer lazy life;
Happiness to some is in yeoman service to mankind.
Happiness is a phenomenon;
Happiness is a quirk of fate;
Happiness is quite rare and scarce at times;
Happiness to some is in living in a virtual world!
Happiness is in braving the storms of life;
Happiness is in toiling for others’ sakes;
Happiness is in sharing your talents and ken;
Happiness is in loving your poor brethren.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-15-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul’s Pleas to God
O God of love, O lovely God!
O God of pow’r- Omnipotent;
O God of might, Almighty God;
And God of infinite mercy!
O God of wonders, wonderful God!
O God who cares, O caring God;
O God of patience and fair judgment;
Forgiving and God of just rod!
Why make the rain and winds so fierce
To destroy lives of man and beast?
Why make the sun to scorch the skins
Of peasants toiling bare-bodied?
Why shake earth’s crust and bring down homes
Of poverty-stricken people?
Why allow Nature to destroy
Centuries of hard human toil?
Ignore the mortal sins of mortals, God!
Open your heart of forgiveness to all;
Calm down the storms and chide the earth;
No Man can bear thine wrath!
Help man to serve his Creator;
Help man repay your love;
Forgive man’s sins; punish devils
Who lead souls to the fire of Hell.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-8-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick I Am...
i am sick...please don`t be sad...
i am sick...please don`t tell anyone...
i am sick...please forgive me if i hurt you...
i am sick...going so faraway from here...
i am sick...saying this only for you...
i am sick...maybe will never come back...
i am sick...remember me and never forget me...
i am sick...pray for me and wish me all best what you can...
i am sick...all wounds i have inside my heart...
i am sick...please don`t be sad...
i am sick... and you will never see me..
poem by Hazem Al Jaber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reasons To Be Beautiful
Love hangs herself
With the bedsheets in her cell
Threw myself on fires for you
10 good reasons to stay alive
10 good reasons that I cant find
Oh, give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Oh, give me one reason to be beautiful
Oh, and everything I am
Love hates you
I live my life in ruins for you
And for all your secrets kept
I squashed the blossom and the blossoms dead
Oh, give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Oh, and I will make myself so beautiful
Oh, and everything I am
Miles and miles of perfect skin
I swear I do, I fit right in
My love burns through everything
I cannot breathe
Miles and miles of perfect sin
I swear, I said, I fit right in
I fit right in your perfect skin
I cannot breathe
Hey, baby, take it all the way...down
Hey, baby, taste me anyway
Oh, you were born
So pretty oh summerbabe
Well never know...
And fading like a rose
Give me a reason to be beautiful
So sick in his body, so sick in his soul
Ill give you my body, just sell me your soul
Oh, and everything I am will be bought and sold
Oh, and everything I am will turn hard and cold
And they say in the end
Youll get bitter just like them
And they steal your heart away
When the fire goes out you better learn to fake
Its better to rise than fade away...
Hey you were right
Named a star for your eyes
Did you freeze did you weep
Turn to gold, baby, sleep
Hey honey mine
I was there all the time
And I weep at your feet
And it rains and rains
song performed by by Hole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sick and Tired
Im sick and tired of the lies you told me.
Sick and tired of what you want me to be.
Sick and tired of the way we live.
Sick and tired Im in such a dread.
Sick and tired I want to go to sleep.
Yea so sick and tired it makes me weak.
Sick and tired dont wanna be me.
Sick and tired of no harmony.
Day aftrer day you just come out and say...
'Tomorrow will be a better day'
Well Im sick and tired of that over used phrase.
So sick and tired of the way you dont change.
Sick and tired I wanna go home.
Oh so sick and tired dont know where I belong.
Sick and tired of not getting along.
So sick and tired, thats it, Im gone.
poem by Ebony Tesfay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm so sick- Flyleaf (lyrics)
I will break into your thoughts
With what's written on my heart
I will break, break
I'm so sick, infected with
Where I live
Let me live without this
Empty bliss, selfishness
I'm so sick
I'm so sick
If you want more of this
We can push out, sell out, die out
So you'll shut up
And stay sleeping
With my screaming in your itching ears
I'm so sick, infected with
Where I live
Let me live without this
Empty bliss, selfishness
I'm so sick
I'm so sick
Hear it, I'm screaming it
You're heeding to it now
Hear it, I'm screaming it
You tremble at this sound
You sink into my clothes
This invasion makes me feel
Worthless, hopeless, sick
I'm so sick, infected with
Where I live
Let me live without this
Empty bliss, selfishness
I'm so, I'm so sick
I'm so sick, infected with
Where I live
Let me live without this
Empty bliss, selfishness
I'm so (I'm so)
I'm so sick (I'm so sick)
I'm so (I'm so)
I'm so sick (I'm so sick)
poem by Cynthia DeMoines
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick Of It All
Im sick of it all
every single thing you do it drvies me crazy
Im sick of the way you look at me with those bright blue eyes
Im sick of the way you make me feel
you make me feel like im worth a thousand words
Im sick of the way you touch my hair
Im sick of the way you smile at my jokes
you make me wanna stay in this world just a little longer
Im sick of it all
But most of all im sick of the way i know im not worth those great blue eyes,
giant perfect smile, and that hair i could die for
poem by Kayhla Kinney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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