In England And All Over The World
Raped!
Abused,
By gangs! !
In England.
Bad gangs,
Bangs, fangs, hangs, pangs, tangs, gangs!
To abuse and to rape girls;
In England and all over the world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Gangs In The Street
Put your hands in the air
You better take care
Your body or your life
Don't think twice
Gonna get what they need
It aint nothing but feed
Better watch what you do
Or you'll know that your through
What would you do
If they were looking at you
What would you say
If they were walking your way
Looks like theres gonna be a showdown
You better not slow down
Better watch what you say (yeah)
'Cuz you know they're not playin'
Don't you look over there
You better not stare
Get down on your knees
You beggin' them please
(ohh)
(chorus)
Gangs in the street
Lookin for you
Looking for me
Gangs in the street
Ready for you
And they're ready for me
(chorus x2)
Put your hands in the air
You better take care
Your body or your life
Don't think twice
Better watch what you say
Or you know that you'll pay
Better watch what you do
Or you know that your through
Gangs in the street
Looking for you
Gangs in the street
Looking for me
Gangs in the street
Hey, you looking for me
Gangs in the street
We're gonna see
song performed by by Loverboy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gangs
Gangs I say are like no other,
In it varies the bold schedule
Of a thousand nights.
Gag the criminal as he gagged you,
Lest the minding has upset totally,
Like the gorilla and its warfare on us.
Gangs will make a mother pay,
Leap into the chair of your father.
I say no other than parent and child,
Killing the one is like killing the other.
I am demonstrating a mistake for ever.
Gangs must keep silent, all the time.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've written a book on gangs, taught a course on gangs at Occidental.
quote by Tom Hayden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Terrorism, ladies and gentlemen, in my eyes I have a very, very, very simple explanation. Gangs of criminals, killers, used unfortunately by certain governments in the past for political purposes, who are on their own now as gangs.
quote by Hamid Karzai
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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More Than One
Quizmasters often test mentalities,
by asking folks to name pluralities,
of things of many different sorts.
Like soldiers can be called 'cohorts'.
There are 'flights' of geese and jets and stairs,
and socks are sometimes found in 'pairs'.
Young ladies curls are massed in 'bangs',
and crooks unite themselves in 'gangs'.
Such gangs can join to form a 'mafia',
but alas that only rhymes with 'raffia'.
Apes, you'd know, can make a 'shrewdness',
could rednecks joined become a 'rudeness'?
And though Collingwood fans are two a penny,
more than none is 'Too Bloody Many'.
poem by Red O'Mara
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gangs Too Distant
Gangs of fire and ice, their religion is polite,
As their goals are super-respectable,
As there is righteous action in all they accomplish,
A region of space is reserved for their cacophony,
They cajole them into thinking alike,
To gather the praise as praise is grand
Like the distant seas and the remarkable ocean.
Gangs of youths do beat their doors,
Downwards is their strength on the radio,
The police are the calamity and calligraphers
Of a wide community, canoeists are the gangs
Of a river of reality. The best are the prisoners.
Like the distant ocean and the mountains far away.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dangers Of War
Gangs of war wrong themselves,
They wound and they hurt
Like the lions and tigers of May.
Of June the cats prowl and launch
To keep danger and the sparkle,
The wounds of a man are tried
And they found me in harmony,
Loathing me as they spoke, like ninjas.
Gangs corrupt and crush the market,
Oppressing is the crime they commit.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Heart Of A City
In this city excitement happens everyday,
No two days play out the same,
For the nightlife is cool to the extreme,
Where sometimes gangs play their games,
But most people just congregate in the city's bars,
As they listen to jazz, rock and all kinds of music,
For this is the heart of a city,
And car follows car: sometimes picking up hookers,
Yet usually on their way to the colourful nightlife,
To chat, laugh and dance throughout the night,
And sometimes - yes - there are fights,
But whatever goes on, no one seems to care,
Gangs of girls tottering on their high heels,
And young men drinking beer from cans,
And this is paradise, this is life,
And the city buzzes with people,
All searching for inner truth,
Trying to find somewhere to replace their stolen youth,
But soon the night will turn to morning,
And a vibrant new day will begin,
Lovers untangling themselves in their bedroom sheets,
To shower and drink coffee and orange juice,
Slowly waking from last night's alcoholic spell.
poem by by unknown author
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Daughter of the Night
My body’s very heavy, lethargy
My eyelid’s very heavy, fluttering
My hand’s very heavy, twitching
My breathing’s very heavy, ragged
The sun is setting, bats are betting
The rats are scurrying
The miners are hurrying
The women are worrying
The sun is running
The moon is coming
Eye’s open, deep breath
Sky’s open, black death
Door’s open, living death
Daughter of the night
Slaughter of the light
Hunger pangs, bare fangs
Know where the younger, gangs
Know where the younger, hangs
Hear the blood flowing
Hear the wind blowing
A deep dark desire
A deep dark promise
Daughter of the night
poem by Anand Dixit
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Bangs
Bangs
Above your eyes your hair hangs
Blow my mind your royal flyness I dig your bangs
Bangs
To drape across your forehead
To swing concordant angles as you incline your head
Once with a girl I fell in love sometime ago now she had...
Bangs
Are that on which the world hangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
Bangs
Are like a pocket t-shirt
As casual as that while fully intentional
And in case you think Im here cause I like making chit chat
Just remember what I said the moneys under your hat
Bangs
Are that on which the world hangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
Bangs
Above your eyes your hair hangs
Blow my mind your royal flyness I dig your bangs
Bangs
To drape across your forehead
To swing concordant angles as you incline your head
And although I like you anyway, check out your haircut
A proscenium to stage a face that needs no makeup
Bangs
Are that on which the world hangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
Im only holding your hand so I can look at your bangs
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psychosocial Crises
For our youths to attain
personality normal and fulfilling
resolve the crises within and without
or else they are easy preys
to the hands of lawless gangs.
After the fall, painful the pangs.
Joblessness makes them hopeless
and leads them to bang
on the doors of illegal trades.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Deep
Almost half of the population of Sub-Saharan Africa
lives on less than one dollar a day
the highest level of poverty in the world.
My little neurotic sexual white mans mind is aloof
Rio De Janeiro at war
The rich amidst abject poverty
Drug gangs armed and desperate
Darling another silk stocking love poem
2 billion people make less than 2 dollars a day
Over a fourth of the world doesn't eat enough
Distribution of wealth is as real as death
Poverty, despair, gangs, guns, ignorance
2.6 billion people have poor sanitation
4100 children die a day from diarrhea
11,700 die a day from AIDS, tuberculosis, malaria
67.5 million children are out of school around the world
Kiss me with disdainful apathy
Suckle our we are going to heaven luxury
Our sweet so called Christian values
Darling isn't our relationship so deep
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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My Life
I am a nuyoriquen (new York Puerto Rican) born and raised
Living with the Bronx gangs was my craze.
You had to wear your street colors wherever you would go
This was the gang colors that you had to show.
I had to be in three gangs, just to get to school
This had become part of the street rules.
I had to change my jerseys going from turf to turf
And when I’d forget it would get much worse.
Scorpions, Dragons, Lightnings too, and three other
Divisions of Crowns ruled the south Bronx.
Egyptian, Royal, Bohemian Crowns
They had become Bronx renown.
But the most feared was the older gang
The Suicides was their name.
Against all gangs they would go down
Including their brothers from the Bohemian Crowns.
For each gang I had a different name
Derringer for the two derringers I carried
Nava Jo for my climbing skills
Blade for the switch blades I carried.
And with these names I had gained fame.
(ha-ha if you could call it that!)
I knew that I would have to leave these streets
And getting out of the gangs was the biggest feat.
I joined the Army at eighteen years of age
And from there my life did change.
When I was in the streets, I could not write my poetry
For this was punkish for a guy
and they said poetry was a lie.
This was the times of desegregation in Alabama, and Mississippi
And then entering into Vietnam, when the French moved out.
This left an imprint on my mind
and I wasn’t going back into past times.
When I returned back to the states
And went To an army buddies home
and met his family
I knew my past life would be history.
His father was a poet, and the best that I have known
And to change my life to me he had shown.
Anyone can change, with help and determination
And your belief in GOD will be your salvation.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And what is needed to prevent them from joining gangs was ample recreation for boys as well as girls, jobs and internships for training and money, and assistance to allow their families to live in decent homes.
quote by Bobby Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ripoff
I don't wanna be no traitor to the cause
But England is a luxury - not many can afford
There's people going under - it's getting out of hand
Whatever happened to our - our green and pleasant land?
It turned into a wilderness; it turned into a third world country
Most people ain't getting what they pay for
Some people gettin' more than they should be
I know, I know - I'm an alien - but what are you gonna do
I wanna live in England - but it gets to you
It gets to you, it gets to you, it gets to you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
What do you do when you find out?
Where do you go if you leave?
There's no place like home - that's what they say
And that's what you always believed
Someday you might win the Lottery
Someday you might win the Pools
But that's all you've got - that's all you've got
- to live for, to live for
That's all you've got - that's all you've got -
to live for, to live for (yeah)
To be or not to be - that's the question
Oh what's it gonna be?
I'd love to live in England - but it gets to me
it gets to me, it gets to me, yeah it gets to me
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
Oh I really don't know why - England wants to rip off
England wants to rip off , England wants to rip o
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pro Rege Nostro
WHAT have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice again
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England: --
'Take and break us: we are yours,
England, my own!
Life is good, and joy runs high
Between English earth and sky:
Death is death; but we shall die
To the Song on your bugles blown, England --
To the stars on your bugles blown!'
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies,
You could know nor dread nor ease,
Were the Song on your bugles blown, England --
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song of your bugles blown, England --
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Have I Done For You
What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?
With your glorious eyes austere,
As the Lord were walking near,
Whispering terrible things and dear
As the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Round the world on your bugles blown!
Where shall the watchful Sun,
England, my England,
Match the master-work you've done,
England, my own?
When shall he rejoice agen
Such a breed of mighty men
As come forward, one to ten,
To the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Down the years on your bugles blown?
Ever the faith endures,
England, my England:-
'Take and break us: we are yours,
'England, my own!
'Life is good, and joy runs high
'Between English earth and sky:
'Death is death; but we shall die
'To the Song on your bugles blown,
'England -
'To the stars on your bugles blown!
They call you proud and hard,
England, my England:
You with worlds to watch and ward,
England, my own!
You whose mailed hand keeps the keys
Of such teeming destinies
You could know nor dread nor ease
Were the Song on your bugles blown,
England,
Round the Pit on your bugles blown!
Mother of Ships whose might,
England, my England,
Is the fierce old Sea's delight,
England, my own,
Chosen daughter of the Lord,
Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient sword,
There's the menace of the Word
In the Song on your bugles blown,
England -
Out of heaven on your bugles blown!
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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