Elian
Poverty in the mist of riches,
And like the final nail in the coffin!
But my name is Elian to make a point,
For history is all that we know now.
No pay check can even motivate me,
As far as making people's lives better!
For i do feel the heat of the poor masses,
And like the trail which is on the rail.
Heartfelt grief and the stories of a recorded history,
But who cares about the plight of the poor? ! !
And life at times is like,
A Sultan's wealth from the oil;
And, with a battle in the Boitech Labs!
But we are marooned with a missing course.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Passing Cromwell Street
In Melbourne streets named in his honour though he does not warrant such fame
For he lived a life of dishonour yet he never felt any shame
For his crimes against the poor of Ireland the winners write the history they say
And historians are too kind to Cromwell the one who did awful things in his day.
He evicted the poor of rural Ireland those who only knew of poverty
And put them on the hard road to Connacht the victims of crimes against humanity
His army were thugs and not soldiers for they did things that soldiers ought not do
The winners always write the history though their version of history is often not true.
In Cromwell's time the winners wrote the history and the winners still write the history today
But for any crimes against humanity the winners too should be made to pay
But Cromwell and his army honoured for their crimes in Ireland against the poor defenceless poor
'Tis sad to think that one so unworthy of a place in history is secure.
To hell or to Connacht his catch cry he forced thousands of poor families on the road
To people who were penniless and innocent not one scrap of mercy he showed
Thousands of them died in the harsh Irish Winter when homelessness on them took it's toll
Because they were poor they were punished though their life circumstances beyond their control.
I think of the untruths of history each time I drive by Cromwell street
The history written by winners their history of lies and deceit
I say to myself they honour a tyrant and I struggle for to understand
Why they name a street after somebody who oppressed the poor of Ireland.
Andrew Marvell in verse glorified Cromwell but he was one who would not know
What Cromwell and his army got up to in Ireland in those bleak times centuries ago
But he only believed what they told him and they told him what he wanted to hear
History often written by unworthy people those who rule by terror and fear.
In Melbourne streets named in his honour his poor victims long forgotten and gone
Into the World of the forgotten but Cromwell's fame is living on
And the lessons we should have learned from history did not lead to a fair go for all
And the winners only write the story though the real truth they never recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Harder Than A Coffin Nail
Harden than a coffin nail
Bend the heaven up into hell
Harden than a coffin nail
Hahahahahaha
Harden than a coffin nail
Harden than a coffin nail
Harden than a coffin nail
Harden than a coffin nail
Hahahaha
Harden than a coffin nail
Hahahahaha
Harden than a coffin nail
Avril Lavigne
14 Day Free Trial
Get 600,000 songs instantly
Play what you want
When you want
Listen to pristine
Digital Sound
Click Here
realRhapsody
User panel
Bookmark Us!
Tell A Friend!
Site's Awards! (None of course)
Newsletter:
The latest lyrics news in your mailbox:
your@email Go!
song performed by by Papa Roach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Blaming Poverty On The Poor
Give us your deprived, your malleable muddled masses
hoping for a gentler taskmaster
Welcome to the multi-trillion dollar industry, Poverty
A.K.A, cheapest labor force
Poverty works, never ever unemployed
A much needed commodity to justify
White-collar crime classes
Teaching dastardly deeds—to procure monetary needs-
fostering avarice greed
Give us your deprived, your malleable muddled masses
hoping for a gentler taskmaster
Welcome to the multi-trillion dollar industry, Poverty
A.K.A., cheapest labor force
Poverty creates jobs for those financing the societal
Institution of ya godda pay more taxes
Blaming Poverty on the poor
Look! what Enron did to those less fortunate
Blaming Poverty on the poor
Did not corporations want a billion dollar welfare check
Blaming Poverty on the poor
Blaming Poverty on the poor
Give us your deprived, your malleable muddled masses
hoping for a gentler taskmaster
Welcome to the multi-trillion dollar industry, Poverty
A.K.A., cheapest labor force
No penance just punishment augmenting the pillar of economic pillaging
Poor people put in the pillory from the political pulpit
Poverty is prime property
Poverty pimps portrayed as political preachers purely punitive but polite
The pluralization of Poverty provides prestige of the patricians
Poverty, the promissory note from the bureaucratic infidel
The Truth will tell—the truth will tell
Poverty the patriotic prisoner on trial for treason
Copyright 2001
poem by Josephine DixonBanks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The History Teacher
Woman!
Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?
Am I History?
Or a part of it?
And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?
Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?
Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.
Are you making me
An emperor?
Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?
And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?
poem by Atef Ayadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Are Generous
Please the poor with some money and riches of high nature,
These people need love, full of loveliness, and we are generous.
To individuals of highest repute I look at their heads
And then their hearts and wait for the day to arrive with achiness, when are they generous?
I am not poor or anything to do with the poor who are poverty,
Hearts of theirs gain momentum, we merely pass our test that is gorgeous, for we are generous.
The spoken tongue carries society further, and those without money bring
Us more money, but bring them no poverty, and bring gracefulness, we are so generous.
The tailor needed cloth, the blacksmith needs his metal, and the accountant also needs,
What of those with the flame in Hell? Their heaven is not their greatness, but we are generous.
Money has no objection to the riches being found, to the oil being discovered,
But fun is in the very life where living is explored with incisiveness, we are so generous.
Then talk never today but mutter with huge meaning, and never sleep too long,
But meet your creator with a giving heart and the soul is incredulous, for it is generous.
May we be heartiness, sweetness, and merry-making with all this wealth
Understood by men, by the kings and queens of infallibleness, for they are all generous.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Multicultural Melbourne
Melbourne Immigration Museum
I stroll,
Past history,
Past lives,
Past stories.
I see for the first time MY nation’s history,
My nations courage,
My nations suffering,
My eyes glaze over
And realisation creeps up on me.
I see stories of the past and present,
Played out before me,
The lives of Australia’s people,
Australia’s history
poem by Katie Anne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ongoing Process.
Three quarters of a century.
Recorded in my memory.
Experience that made me, me.
A complete life times history.
Of all I've heard and all I've seen.
Recorded in my memory.
What I have done and where I've been.
A complete life times history.
I can look forward eagerly.
A quarter of a century.
To reaching my centenary.
Recorded automatically.
And stored within my memory.
Accessible only to me.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Missing
feeling weak today
run the risk of tears
falling down your cheeks
from all the lonely years
holding back your love
while she races up the hill
chase what you dream of
but always standing still
all and all you see
everything is history
think of all that you've been missing
and every now and then
shadows bring you back again
to think of all the things you're missing
lay the pictures out
pull the curtains down
don't let us see you breathe
your happiness you fake
sending up a flare
if anybody really cares
to talk a little while
the past to reconcile
all in all you see
everything is history
think of all the things you're missing
every now and then
i can almost picture him
think of all the things
of all the things
of all the things
well i do
i do
hear the morning creeping in
and the spirit sings again
well you will
you will
see the beauty in this moment
every time you're standing still
time you're standing still
these times are tougher weathered
someday the wind will carry you home
and you'll be free
and you'll be free
no one will pull you down
you'll wake up and look around
and never again
think of all, all that you've been missing
ohh ohh ohh
all that you've been missing
ohh
all and all you see
everything is history
think of all that you've been missing
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
History Maker
History maker World shaker it’s what I wanna be
Going places seeing faces making history
Stepping out not afraid coming up against the enemy
History maker world shaker that’s what I wanna be
Get up and go-there is trouble everywhere
Finding solutions to our problems is so very rare
No more talking cause all the talking’s done
History maker world shaker I already have begun
Stand up for right I am in a fight
Trying with all my might to free them from their plight
History maker world shaker that’s what I want to be
Helping people change, changing history
But I can’t do it alone I need someone
To help me do the job and get it done
Become a history maker starting here today
Be a world shaker follow me I will show the way
Copy Right HN Brown 31 January 2009
poem by Henry Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Hell Or To Connacht
To Hell or to Connacht was Cromwells's war cry
To poor Irish tenant farmers his cruel words did apply
Cromwell was a war criminal the facts never lie
To Hell or to Connacht were his words or die.
When Cromwell handed over the command of the Royalist Troops to Henry Ireton the results were the same
In human history their treatment of poor Irish people is a human shame
In their conquests of Ireland thousands of people died
Any form of human rights of them was denied.
Poor Irish tenant farmers were put on the road
To Connacht or to die of no fixed abode
Oliver Cromwell and Henry Ireton were far worse than cruel
They were despotic leaders who abused their rule.
Anyone who knows of history surely do know
Of the atrocities of the Crown forces in Ireland three and a half centuries ago
Cromwell and Ireton were horrible men
They must have been born in the Devil's den.
Some look on past history as over and gone
But in Ireland to Hell or to Connacht those words do live on
And thousands on walking to Connacht died of hunger and cold
The poor and forgotten their life stories untold.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tis True What Is Said About People
'Tis true what is said about people that everyone has a life story to tell
Though not everybody's life story in book form a million copies would sell
The biography of a poor homeless person many would not be interested to read
Life's journey from the poorest suburb to success for most people never lead
The lives of elite sports people and celebrities and those of power and money makes the best sellers list
Just reading of and hearing about them the masses cannot seem to resist
Suppose we only admire in others what we ourselves aspire to be
Most wish to be wealthy and famous and none wish to live in poverty
Most do wish to be wealthy and famous and others their praises to sing
Suppose to wish to be loved and admired is quite human it does seem a natural thing
But the road to success is a steep road and few ever climb to renown
And what hope for the poor and the homeless who live in the poor side of the town?
You ask one of their life wishes poverty he or she never choose
But the sad thing about the Human World is that for one to win many must lose.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
History?
Has history taught us nothing
but tales and ancient lies?
All wrapped up in stories
not told us by the wise?
Told by the vicars who consecrated death
Told by the rulers
with power in their breath.
Passed on in written words
in books the masses read,
never questioned, never disputed
in the minds they lead.
Slanted stories still present
right to our present day.
Foes of peace seen as heroes
in ungodly ways
and as we live the history writers
will pen each blazing act
as benificent for these difficult times,
more fiction than true fact.
So those who follow in our steps
will read our history book
and what they read will be fantasy
with a different look.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tax
Tax is for the welfare of the masses
That’s why more tax should levied
Upon the rich than the poor
In such a manner
So that a desired balance is maintained.
There should be no filthy rich
In a poor country
So the government should impose tax
On this people couple of times more
Than the ordinary rich.
Education tax, poverty elimination tax
And tax to rehabilitate the beggars
Can be imposed on the very rich.
The government must go for moderate tax
For the poor people
And they should not slaughter the hen
That lays egg of gold.
The Muslims should give tax properly
Since it is obligatory for them
So in a Muslim country
The government should highlight this
In order to increase revenue.
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Affect Forever
We Affect Forever
We are making history, through every day we spend.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark that will not end.
Others before have left behind this world we now obtain.
Though it’s changed since way back when, the old shall always remain.
History is how we got here, history is who we are.
History is what led to this, yes history is not far.
It remains within our families, its tradition and unchanging ways.
It’s Christmas day, Thanksgiving, its countless nights and days.
History is what you’re becoming; it’s what you are soon to be.
And history never dies; it’s a part of everybody.
We fight to maintain who we are, to maintain who we’ve always been.
And while we fight we know this fight is not easy to win.
Many forget the past, and many never even know,
Many people never hear of how times were long ago.
Those thousands of years before us, are more than just time spent.
They are filled with real people, real feelings, and real places that they went.
The People had different life styles very different from our ways,
But it is true that there is nothing knew under the sun’s golden rays.
Stand proud to be alive, know you affect forever.
Every act that we commit we all commit together.
We are entrusted with this earth; we must love and cherish this life.
We must remember to love our existence lest love becomes our strife.
Yes we are becoming history, through every move we make.
We are here, leaving our mark, a mark ……or perhaps a mistake.
poem by Mary Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We are losers
Was the first battle won by us?
We took the form of human being,
Came into light from darkness,
Struggled, perspired, earned, spent,
Waited for the final call.
And called the life a success.
Certainly a selfish life
we led,
It had never been a successful one,
Did we ever wipe the tears of the poor wretches?
Did we ever try to make the world
A better place to live?
Did we ever follow the guidelines of our conscience?
Did we not breach the Divine Law?
Then why should we call our lives
a success?
We lost the last and the final battle too,
We are losers.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just incase of success
If i become a priest make me a member of the past centuries.
A monument make a propotion of scheduled art.
If i become a sangoma history must be revealed once medicine worked
if i become a poet or an artist you should know i was inpired by something, someone somewhere
just incase of me being rich just remember i was out of existance before being poor and then became average wealth
if i become a social worker or an administrator nor a doctor. An entrepreneur just know that the history behind it is homework studying and hardwork with pation and goals
dreams pushed me
if i inspire you then dont wish to be me but better than me
poem by Ernest Makuakua
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Access To Fast Food, Branded Clothes And
The creation of nations,
that have passion,
for money and power,
is the absolute poverty.
Not having the access,
to shelter, food and clothing,
to have a healthy living.
Fifteen percent Americans,
fall under poverty line,
and they earn,
less than,
ONLY 22K American dollar,
per year.
In other parts of the world,
people live,
in appropriate poverty,
and they live on,
2 dollars a day,
six hundred dollars a year,
five people can eat,
have shelter and simple clothing,
still they are healthy.
slim and fit.
Europeans are clever,
to make the people to believe,
that they are poor,
earning only 800 Euro a month,
Which is above,
the average annual income,
of many developing nations,
where people have,
no access to any wealth and health.
All of us stay in the same earth,
but the value of properties,
and the rental acquired,
through the properties,
differ substantially.
Politicians of the poor nations,
have abysmal knowledge on economics.
To be a rich nation,
we should have values,
but these clowns are short sighted,
to look at the value,
of their own properties!
Do not say that they are poor,
because the term poor itself,
will be ashamed,
for using its credibility,
for wrong purpose.
Please do not call them poor,
when the nations are able to provide them,
the food, shelter and health care.
Find a suitable word,
and leave the poor alone,
who have no access,
to any of these comforts on their own,
and their nations,
are unable to provide them,
the access to the comfort.
Reason for writing this poem.
The feelings of the poor are the same through out the world, irrespective of the countries that they are staying, but the proper definition for poverty should be clarified before classifying the people as poor, which means the poor of one country may be considered as the rich in another country. Then what is the real meaning for poverty?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!