Politicians Are Politrikians
Politicians are politrikians
More than any magician
Black hearted and sweet
Tongued
Thick skinned and Greedy
Exploit the poor and needy
So quickly
They change their color
Even chameleons feel
Smaller
Tremendous love for
Chair and power
Corrupt to the core
Smile on the face
Deceiving people their
Strength
Increasing expectation
Of poor voters
Expressing false love
For the nation their art
They do not spare any body
Become richer and richer
Day by day
Do not trust what they say
Escape the trap of
Sweet words they lay
Great actors in real life
Can kill anybody without
A knife
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Related quotes
Be real with me
Be real with me
Who will be real with me
She is a false pretender
Says she can't remember
The things we did together
Such a big lire
She can't be real with me
Be real with me
My life is more than my age
So you cant put me in a cage
Being stronger and richer
Do not means i am smaller
Cherish love than power
For love is
Superior and greater
Although i am poor
But you can
Help me live better
Do not make me inferior
Be real with me
For that is forever
poem by Matt Ancient
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New movement
I can't believe! ! England,
For poverty how can She stands.
The land of liberty and dignity,
Where are identity and humanity?
The poor become poorer,
the rich become richer.
Oh bad capitalization is in top of civilization,
Allah helps the poor in every nation.
If the poverty were a man, i 'd kill
Omar 's dictum curing for the ill.
The rich must help the poor
To have no envy, make the heart pure.
We respect you! ! England,
Rising humanity, you put a hand.
We don't go to the black ages,
when people put in cages,
Where they escape in caves.
We are at the era of enlightenment,
The revolutions are everywhere in new movement.
poem by khaled Elbalishy
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Sonnet: The Rich and the Poor
The rich become richer and the poor poorer;
This is the way in which this world goes on!
Men may become suddenly rich, not born;
A rich man turns suddenly a beggar.
The few pennies are snatched off from the poor;
The brunt of taxes are but borne by them;
They can’t make both ends meet by any sum;
The rich hoodwink the taxman- their brother!
Will the world treat people alike ever?
All men are born unequally today;
Yet, if it happens, ’twill be a wonder;
No matter what you do, things happen this way.
The rich become richer not by real work;
The poor become poorer though they hardwork!
poem by John Celes
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How much money do you need to be happy?
How much money do you need to be happy?
Poor man
How much money should you have to be happy?
Greedy man
How much money do you want to be happy?
Thrifty man
How many men would you corrupt to have money?
Gentleman
How many people would you kill to get money?
Coward man
How many children would you exploit to make money?
Hungry man
How many laws would you break to be rich?
Dishonest man
How many illegal ways would you use to be wealthy?
Weak man
How many lies would you tell to gather money?
Sick man
How many friends would you betray to get money?
Thirsty man
How much damage would you cause to make money?
Blind man
How much power do you need to be proud?
Mad man
How much power do you need to lead the crowd?
Bad man
How much power do you require to kick the world?
Ugly man
How much power do you need to be satisfied?
Selfish man
How much power do you need to be happy?
Sad man
How much hate do you want to be famous?
Wrong man
How much hate do you need to stop massacres?
Dwarf man
How much sorrow do you want to love the other?
Fool man
How much misery do-you want to be happy?
Crazy man
poem by Bouche Cousue
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Spiritual Love
Could you but give me all that I desire,
I should be richer, and you no more poor,
Companionship beside the household fire,
And common cares that train one to endure.
'Tis not your senses, but your self, I want,
Kinship of vision, sympathy of mind,
That so the bond be based on adamant,
And Love made fast by sanctities that bind.
Yet do not think insensible my gaze
To delicate loveliness of form and face,
But that I covet in the same embrace
The Spirit's yearnings with the body's grace.
Give me all these, and add, with lengthening years,
The sweet sad smile, and piety of tears.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Rich In Our Own World
We are rich in our own world
and far richer than you think,
we are rich love and caring
from our family and friends.
We are rich in what we give
our wisdom and our laughter
that we share with everyone.
We are rich for all sorts of reasons
and none of them includes money.
If you think, you are poor,
forget it and think again.
Think of all the things you have
and you will be surprised to find
you are far richer than you think.
You are rich in your own world
with everything you have
and they are far richer than
anything money can bring.
14 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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Power of Corruption
In the corrupt countries
positioned officials trade the rules,
make money from needy people
sell convenience making system fool.
Bureaucrats, police, politicians
think powerful to do things above law;
make money for their lavish living
their near and dear also, they reward.
People pay bribe to make work easy
and avoidance of punishment;
the officials accept happily, to fulfil
lavish needs and make life decent.
Due to authority's laxity, indifference,
own greed and no transparency;
officials hide rules and exploit
innocence, difficulty and urgency.
Law is as their own egg, they sell
for grant of work, privilege, license
quota, land, avoidance of punishment
evading tax or fine and Govt. payments.
Scammers and black money earners
acquire resources depriving the masses;
they grab power too to manipulate and
force to pay higher price, by poor classes.
Deputed to defend law, but hidden outlaw.
in public eyes, desirous of looking good.
Robbing Government, deceiving people
wish to be ‘white collared Robin Hood'.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Animal called politician
I am special and unique kind of magician
I can also be called as shameless politician
I claim to have descended directly from heaven
I have full right to enjoy full facilities even
I care no hoots for poor and needy
I am prepared to be called greedy
My coffer should be filled with money and enough land
For me there is no permanent foe or friend
I have special skill to amass the wealth
I care for no one and maintain excellent health
Each and every case is differently dealt with
I am armed will all the skills up to teeth
God was merciful to have granted me with skill
Everything was easy and could be done at will
People touched feet and offered whatever I wanted
It was rudderless ship I was called up on to be boarded
The ship to be taken in any direction without fear of direction
No doubts to be cast on sincerity for any of the action
Almost granted with full indemnity and blessed with fortune
I have developed the skill for people to dance with my tune
How long I shall rule the area or country?
Will I have unrestricted access or entry?
Will people tolerate it for all the times to come?
Will there be love lost or I shall be unwelcome?
I have become thick skinned animal and fearless
They will need me all the time so long as they are leaderless
I shall take full precaution not to afford them any awareness
Else it may invite dawn fall much to the discomfort and bitterness
People have short memory and forget easily
I shall spend the rest of my life happily
Who cares for national sentiments and poverty?
Though the politics is considered as mean and dirty
I think of going away from such politics
It may be considered as high skill and tactics
It is good medium to serve the people on mass scale
The people may not spare if your action is failed
No politician has died as poor hungry man
Even though less corrupt, he may be remembered as gentleman
It may be necessity and compulsion in life to attain enough wealth
Still that is being tolerated and paid mark of respect on his death
It may be completely naïve to blame wholly on his logic
We have built him and brought to such level to create magic
The nation or country might not have developed to such a large scale
Had he not been given free hand to move in sea as whale?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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For all the gold and silver stolen and shipped to Spain did not make the Spanish people richer. It gave their kings an edge in the balance of power for a time, a chance to hire more mercenary soldiers for their wars. They ended up losing those wars anyway, and all that was left was a deadly inflation, a starving population, the rich richer, the poor poorer, and a ruined peasant class.
quote by Hans Konig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Might is right
It is always the fact that might is right
They will go on till the end to fight
They may do it with the speed of light
They have the wisdom and long sight
Small insects kill smaller one
Big also kill little one and go on
It is complete cycle of exploitation
Everybody looses in turn and in rotation
So if rich rule the scene then nothing wrong
Not all can be in race and come along
It is sheer coincidence that mighty rule
Otherwise not all the people are fool
Person with abundance can sustain losses
He may have no regret even if looses
This gives them little advantage
Rest all feel confined to cage
Once you are under domination you are bound to suffer
You may have no rights other than to differ
So poor remain poor and rich gets richer
Poor remain suppressed for times to come
Rich are dominating and always welcome
Corruption has engulfed poor and rich alike
Everybody is influenced and affected with hike
No one wants to remain as poor like
Rich too wants not to become poor and dislike
This is tendency that we feel pity for poor
We have seen them knocking the door
But it is the system that will remain forever
Even if God descends on earth it will be there
If you have same system with no discrimination
No one may work and develop alienation
They will feel free with passing of responsibility
Here comes then the end of clear and distinct ability
If you have system with loop holes anybody will escape
No one can restrict the temptation or put the cap
Only the poor fail to emerge for the want of resources
The powerful emerge and re-emerge with full force
The oppression part is little disturbing
No one can force or go on curbing
No one can be forced to undergo torture
Even God has made it very sure
The rich may have disliking for poor
Poor to may have tendency to show exit door
It has been clash of time for centuries and very old
No one can buy it or arguments can be sold
Lord may wish so for all His children
He may even grant the same blessing even
Yet that difference may remain and even if not
The needless wars might not have been fought
The human beings may create it to rule
They make use of all available tools
Rich may tackle poor and poor may tackle down trodden
As the system remains same with all the odds even
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Joy and Pleasure
Now, joy is born of parents poor,
And pleasure of our richer kind;
Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing
As sweet a song as joy confined.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day
And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature's light.
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks
Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But pleasure's like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone,
Whose ties are very strong, though few;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true.
Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear;
But pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.
poem by William Henry Davies
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This nation has always struggled with how it was going to deal with poor people and people of color. Every few years you will see some great change in the way that they approach this. We've had the war on poverty that never really got into waging a real war on poverty.
quote by Maxine Waters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Surprise, Surprise
Sweet as the smell of success
Her body's warm and wet
She gets me through this god awful lonliness
A natural high butterfly oh i,
I need, need, need her
Just like a willow tree
A breath of spring you see
And oh boy you don't know what she do to me
She makes me sweat and forget who i am
I need, need, need, need her
Well i was wondering how long this could go on, on and on
Well i thought i could never be surprised
But could it be that i bit my own tongue
Oh yeah, it's so hard to swallow when you're wrong
A bird of paradise
The sunrise in her eyes
God only knows such a sweet surprise
I was blind she blew my mind think that i
I love, love, love, love, love her
I love her, i love her, i love her, i love her
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
Sweet sweet, sweet sweet love
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think and smile
Sometimes, I wonder why I love you
Then I think and smile
Is it your voice, that rings like music
Or the way your eyes shines, when you look at me
Or the way I feel when you are with me
Or the way you say ' Jaan'
Then I think and smile.
I love the way you look, your eyes so bright
The power of your face
The strength in your stare
The kindness in your smile
Its for this and more
I love the way you smile, it brightens the room
I love the way you say ' Jaan', it brings smile on my face
Then I think and smile.
Our relation, a rare gift
A life time connection
A special bond, one cannot see and understand
I could go on for days, to tell you what I feel
But what ever it is, it is for real
Then I think and smile.
Songs of Joy
Sing out, my soul, thy songs of joy;
Sing as a happy bird will sing
Beneath a rainbow's lovely arch
In the spring.
Think not of death in thy young days;
Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear?
And fear him not when thou art old,
And he is near.
Strive not for gold, for greedy fools
Measure themselves by poor men never;
Their standard still being richer men,
Makes them poor ever.
Train up thy mind to feel content,
What matters then how low thy store?
What we enjoy, and not possess,
Makes rich or poor.
Filled with sweet thought, then happy I
Take not my state from other's eyes;
What's in my mind -- not on my flesh
Or theirs -- I prize.
Sing, happy soul, thy songs of joy;
Such as a Brook sings in the wood,
That all night has been strengthened by
Heaven's purer flood.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Chameleons
We are all chameleons
We change our faces
As needed.
We change our thoughts
As needed.
We change our actions
As needed.
We change our values
As needed.
We change our principles
As needed.
We change our morals
As needed.
We change our love
As needed.
And our vows to God
As needed.
How sad
Poor Chameleons!
poem by Rich Young
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Spare Me A Little Of Your Love
Written by christine mcvie.
Why not lie here in my arms
And listen to the night
You must know you have certain charm
And I feel the time is right
So spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little of your love (of your love)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little of your love (of your love)
Now I know that I feel much more
Oh in every single way
And its not the same as before
It gets stronger everyday
So spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little of your love (of your love)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little of your love (of your love)
Now I know how the sun must feel
Every time it shines
And now I know this is real
And I want you to be mine
So spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little of your love (of your love)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little (just a little bit)
Spare me a little of your love (of your love)
Just a little bit
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Negative People Have Power
When negative people have power they seek to conquer and divide
They refer to the flag of the Nation as a symbol of courage and pride
A big speech at the war memorial where respect by them to the war dead is paid
By their false show of patriotism their foundation to power has been laid
We are ruled by negative people so cunning in their own narrow way
With the fears of the vast majority of the voters they do certainly know how to play
They vow for to kill every terrorist and the praises of war heroes they sing
They do seem such power hungry people and to power they do desperately cling
Of the words of the aspiring political leaders the voters do seem to take note
For the one who does not play to their fears the majority never would vote
The one who is not patriotic in parliament will not hold a seat
The innovative thinkers in politics at the polling booths facing defeat
We vote for the people most like us for those who can play to our fear
And suppose that does seem only natural since they tell us what we want to hear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The merchant
Who could play Portia, but you?
The quick-witted woman
who really loved
and came to the rescue.
The merchant - just me. And it
was that way, with our life together
and the way that life went
and how quickly
my meagre savings was spent.
Inhuman Shylock could probably be
each and every employer
that misused me
and only offered a contract
of which the time ran out
as quick as the job was done
and no sure permanent job
could appear.
My ships sailing against the storm
would probably be my stories and poems
and when the script overtook us
I had to find other lodgings
as quick as magician
pulls a rabbit from a hat.
And then I wondered sweet Portia,
who’s hand held the knife
to slice into the inmost core
of the heart,
was it Shylock’s or yours?
But now you love me still
and sometimes your sweet voice
thrills me intensely
and your touch makes my hairs rise
and still I am in love
and not really wise.
[Reference: The merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Violets
SENT IN A LITTLE BOX.
LET them lie, yes, let them lie,
They'll be dead to-morrow:
Lift the lid up quietly
As you'd lift the mystery
Of a shrouded sorrow.
Let them lie, the fragrant things,
Their sweet souls thus giving:
Let no breezes' ambient wings,
And no useless water-springs
Lure them into living.
They have lived--they live no more:
Nothing can requite them
For the gentle life they bore
And up-yielded in full store
While it did delight them.
Yet, poor flowers, not sad to die
In the hand that slew ye,
Did ye leave the open sky,
And the winds that wandered by,
And the bees that knew ye.
Giving up a small earth place,
And a day of blooming,
Here to lie in narrow space,
Smiling in this sickly face,
This dull air perfuming?
O my pretty violets dead,
Coffined from all gazes,
We will also smiling shed
Out of our flowers witherèd,
Perfume of sweet praises.
And as ye, for this poor sake,
Love with life are buying,
So, I doubt not, ONE will make
All our gathered flowers to take
Richer scent through dying.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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