My workplace
Some men had pledg'd their hard-earn'd property,
To men with trust to make profit somehow;
The latter’s performance was so dirty,
They aimed to loot and blamed poor worker's show.
These kingpins brought in such corrupt workmen,
Who stripp'd the place threadbare to skeleton;
And turn'd it soon into a vice-filled den;
No one can crack the whip or use baton.
No soul is honest or dedicated;
The corruption-level is very high;
To fools all power is relegated;
The patients poor come here mostly to die?
Oh what a place, so fine and wretched yet?
It needs revamping right from scratch, I bet.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Workers’ Lamentations
This place isn’t thrilling anymore!
There is no fun or work to do;
Most things in shambles lie for long;
There is no soul who bothers much.
Corruption rules the roost to core;
The honest workers are ignored;
The lazy ones are most favored;
The sincere ones are shown the door!
The patients’ numbers keep dwindling;
New doctors are not attracted;
Touts direct patients to clinics-
The Management is well aware!
The contract system works too well;
Poor employees are temporary;
A kind of cheating continues;
They call it ‘ADMINISTRATION’!
A lot of trees have been cut down;
The place is not getting good rains;
The Cauvery-water is off;
The current-cuts are frequent now.
Some quarters are in ruins too;
Private-roads are not laid within;
The changing bosses do nothing,
Each one retiring without blame!
There is no one to ‘bell the cat’!
No one cares to revamp the place;
It is no doubt a beauteous one;
The glory seems to fade with time.
A sorry state of things, Alas!
No one is dedicated much;
The place has lost its magic-touch;
They do not give you a bus-pass!
But students do read well o’er here,
Although the faculty is less;
May be, some kind of curse is on;
May be, God’s rod is upon all!
The righteous workers are scapegoats;
Luck favors dishonest doctors;
I see no clouds of changes now;
A desert-like, place looks somehow!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-28-2007
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: On Corruption Today
God, thwart the moves of men with minds insane;
Their corruption has reached enormous heights;
And masking all their crimes, righteous they feign;
Ill-gotten wealth, giving them sleepless nights!
How long this land can bear their insults, Lord?
How longer must the poor suffer hard-ships?
The corrupt own most resources, O God;
Most transactions are carried out by ‘tips’!
The people have been cheated for ages;
The poor are made poorer by corrupt men;
The employees get paid paltry wages.
For honest folk, the earth is no haven!
Most lives are endangered by corruption;
The world does need a cleansing eruption!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-12-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Hard To Find
There are a few honest politicians so honest and faithful and kind
But they are such a small minority honest politicians are so hard to find
They would do almost anything for to hold on to power as power in their lives is their central theme
They put power in their lives before principle or at least that is how it does seem,
There are a few honest politicians though their type are becoming quite rare
And shady deals are concocted in high places in the bigger World out there
So much corruption in high places where success can come through deceit
Far decenter than them poor and homeless and living it rough on the street
To most politicians to lie is so easy and one lie leads to another they say
And they are referred to as 'the honorable' yet they tell more lies every day
They are tainted by their lust for power to power they so desperately cling
Yet many see them as quite special and many their praises do sing
And many out there are so gullible and to the faults of the power wielders quite blind
And 'tis sad that honest politicians are becoming much harder to find.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poverty
Tears filled in the eyes, as a compare the rich with the poor;
Palatial buildings laugh at the small cottages of the poor.
With scanty income the poor feeds the children, contents their desire;
Life of poor is filled with fear.
O god, in thy kingdom, partiality reigns hither, thither;
Poor becomes poorer with thy desire.
Corruption is rampant among the officers;
Exploiting junior employees' property they content their desire.
O god! Thy Earth is wonder;
Poor people roam hither, thither;
With their little income they content their desire.
On Earth they are cursed creatures.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Poverty Vavroovahana Patra
Tears filled in the eyes, as I compare the rich with the poor;
Palatial buildings laugh at the small cottages of the poor.
With scanty income the poor feeds the children, contents their desire;
Life of poor is filled with fear.
O god, in thy kingdom, partiality reigns hither, thither;
Poor becomes poorer with thy desire.
Corruption is rampant among the officers;
Exploiting junior employees' property they content their desire.
O god! Thy Earth is a wonder;
Poor people roam hither, thither.
With their little income they content their desire.
On Earth they are cursed creatures.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poor Skeleton Steps Out
Poor skeleton steps out,
Dressed up in bad blood,
Bad brains, bad thoughts, and others deeds.
Poor skeleton no doubt,
One of these days,
You can cast aside your human, be free.
When the cities run with blood,
And you drink our health in mud,
All flesh be gone.
Save your dry and joyous shout,
For the day poor skeleton steps out.
Poor skeleton steps out,
Sprung from his life sentence,
Deep inside some muscle mask.
Poor skeleton devout,
Propping up truck drivers,
Filmstars, thieves or queens, your brave task.
When technology is rust,
And you write your book in dust,
All flesh be gone.
Cant buy tickets from a tout,
For the day poor skeleton steps out.
Poor skeleton steps out,
Liberated from sex organs,
And brown, black, white skin.
Poor skeleton you lout,
Dont you think that we might,
Like to have been asked to join in?
For good skeletons are we,
And were dying to be free,
All flesh be gone.
I will scream or sulk and pout,
Until my poor skeleton steps out.
Better watch out, here comes bony boy.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The world around
The honest men are much denigrated;
The insincere are brought up to the fore;
The nexus is so well integrated,
And works dishonestly at every door.
They want the ones who act deaf, dumb and blind,
And serve a rubber-stamp to their designs;
If I collude, they will to me be kind,
But I'm a Master of symptoms and signs.
Oh what a wretched world, they have it made?
And loot the sick, downtrodden and the poor;
I curse them all; their sins will never fade,
Unless repent they at the Maker's door.
Freedom we got but still free we are not,
Is this our country's poor brethren's sad lot?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Clinic
My clinic is a ‘church’ in which I pray;
Not many patients flock in anyway;
Some rosaries I manage to well say;
This keeps both devils and my foes away.
The ones that come are poorer than they seem;
‘The rich in cars come only in my dream.’
Most patients brush their teeth with only neem;
My words of solace make their faces gleam.
So, can I fleece my brethren poor and ill?
Can I then hand them inflated a bill?
Can I charge them for just a sample pill?
They live despite the doctor’s care by ‘will! ’
I long to see more patients but be wise;
I dare not try to anyway entice;
My profession is sacrosanct and nice;
I cannot let it turn into a vice!
The only thing I hate is waste my time;
The other thing I hate’s a rainy clime;
But everyday, I write aplenty rime;
I never mind if I earn just a dime!
I scooter daily not more than a mile;
I feel so happy seeing patients smile;
Becoming rich is not my beloved style;
My heart abounds with joy when poor souls file.
When will my practice pick up? - I don’t know;
To God, my art of healing, I just owe;
Rewards in heaven wait for righteous, oh!
To ways God makes me walk, I say not, ‘No! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-10-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Narcotics Missing from the Police-Station?
Loss of seized contraband from the police
means they are taken out on a lease
for the accused to go free
and the smugglers to be in glee.
They know all the rules
even how the girls to tease.
How much threat the cops receive
from the gang of vice!
They are nice while dealing
with the Kingpins moving the drugs off.
What could the poor cops do
if the boss behind this trade
sits on the high seat of Power?
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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‘I’m Anna! ’ - Movement: Poem on Corruption in India
The poor become poorer each day
The rich turn richer every way
Corruption is the cause that may
Prevent a nation’s progress, Aye!
Corruption rules the world in ways
Indiscernible yet, always;
The common man’s heart, mind and face
Reveals the menace in each case
Corruption wears so many masks;
The corrupt in lucre’s sun basks;
All accept it and no one asks,
‘Why burden-some turn daily tasks? ’
Corruption has gone too rampant;
It runs amok like an elephant;
The poor man’s life is like an ant;
Mass rallies slogans only chant.
The war to curb corruption’s on;
Good youth in India have been born;
The people get gleanings of corn,
While sheaves in rich men’s homes adorn.
Corruption’s the cause of price-rise;
Share-markets play a game like dice;
Taxes have grown mammoth in size;
A tax-payer ashamed then dies.
Which leader will then stem this rot?
– Democracy is badly caught;
The fight must be much bravely fought
Till freedom after Freedom’s got!
Dedicated to ‘ I’m Anna! ’ movement hero in India
Shri. Anna Hazare
Copyright by Dr John Celes 21-08-11
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: The Patient Poor!
The smiles of gratitude on being healed,
That lights the face of patients very poor,
Gives satisfaction more than covers sealed
From patients wearing shoes high-heeled and fur!
The etiquette of villagers unread,
Surpasses that of urban men ‘degreed’,
Well-dressed in foreign cars, overly fed,
With haughty laughter, showing off their greed!
Oh, what a lovely heart, the poor man has!
His humble voice and stance can lure the Doc;
Diseases strike more poor bodies; Alas,
For them, the health-providers scarcely talk!
The coins of love that patients poor empty
Are worth more weight in gold than dollars free!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-1-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Magnetic Game
Every poor uses slang
But the crux of the fun
Is that every one wants to be a rich man
If one day I become the richest one
On that day I surely will be a fakir or nun
And my whole property will be for the poor man
As I need nothing more than
Two pieces of cloths
And two timely meals
But in the middle there is a game
Very non-materialistic
People call it name and fame
Towards it every one madly rushes in
As it is very, very magnetic
But you can not earn any thing
Until it is given to you by the masses, the poor man
poem by Abdul Wahab
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A cruel beast
Corruption,
A vice so loved.
The voiceless,
Suffer in its hands.
The powerful,
Feast its fruits,
Corruption,
A vice so evil.
Land,
From it emanate.
Mansions,
Like mushroom they sprout.
Cars,
Like bees they swarm.
Corruption,
A vice so evil.
Poverty,
A son to it has become,
Who,
A by-product is,
Corruption,
A vice so evil.
Mercy,
To it is rubbish,
Prosperity,
In its mind constantly dwells.
Corruption,
A vice so evil.
poem by Michael Wamalwa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini
WHIP IT
DEVO
crack that whip
give the past the slip
step on a crack
break your momma's back
when a problem comes along
you must whip it
before the cream sits out too long
you must whip it
when something's going wrong
you must whip it
now whip it
into shape
shape it up
get straight
go forward
move ahead
try to detect it
it's not too late
to whip it
whip it good
when a good time turns around
you must whip it
you will never live it down
unless you whip it
no one gets their way
until they whip it
i say whip it
whip it good
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Poor Kids
Be quiet! Don't make a sound!
Speak when you're spoken to!
What awful fearful bounds
Speaking only on cue
Poor poor kids
You can't go out and play today!
It's punishment, unfitting the crime
This parental power display
For kids, like serving hard-time
Poor poor kids
Adults wield such power
They must be listened to
They can their poor kids cower
As they dim their kids world view
Power seeds have been sown
Hopefully they'll not sprout
So when kids are fully grown
Their kids will not self doubt
poem by Stanley Cooper
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To Loot
You scratch my back
And I shall scratch yours.
You ignore my lapse
And I shall ignore yours.
Let us live and loot the poor.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whip It (Death Metal Version)
crack that whip
give the past the slip
step on a crack
break your momma's back
when a problem comes along
you must whip it
before the cream sits out too long
you must whip it
when something's going wrong
you must whip it
now whip it
into shape
shape it up
get straight
go forward
move ahead
try to detect it
it's not too late
to whip it
whip it good
when a good time turns around
you must whip it
you will never live it down
unless you whip it
no one gets their way
until they whip it
i say whip it
whip it good
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whip It
Crack that whip
Give the past the slip
Step on a crack
Break your mommas back
When a problem comes along
You must whip it
Before the cream sits out too long
You must whip it
When somethings going wrong
You must whip it
Now whip it
Into shape
Shape it up
Get straight
Go forward
Move ahead
Try to detect it
Its not too late
To whip it
Whip it good
When a good time turns around
You must whip it
You will never live it down
Unless you whip it
No one gets their way
Until they whip it
I say whip it
Whip it good
song performed by by Moby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whip It
Crack that whip
Give the past the slip
Step on a crack
Break your mommas back
When a problem comes along
You must whip it
Before the cream sits out too long
You must whip it
When somethings going wrong
You must whip it
Now whip it
Into shape
Shape it up
Get straight
Go forward
Move ahead
Try to detect it
Its not too late
To whip it
Whip it good
When a good time turns around
You must whip it
You will never live it down
Unless you whip it
No one gets their way
Until they whip it
I say whip it
Whip it good
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm sorry for you terrorists
This same talk
All the time
And as I see
We have some kind of civil war today
And I hear this terrorists pray:
“You are hard worker,
You are smart,
You have more money, more power, than I
So, you must die”
In the name of God
Of course
Oh, poor people
How you are small
With your mad minds
It is so sad
I’m sorry for you
That you are not smart enough to love
Don’t you really know
What is the best in this world?
That you can only make fun
Playing at this war?
With your dirty games
Taking pleasure from the people's fear
What kind of men are you? ?
Don’t you really have
Anything to do?
I’m sorry for you.
poem by Anna Cellmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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