The Enemy Of Thyself
United we stand. Divided we fall.
This is how they've conquered us all.
Black from white
Rich from poor
Christian from Jew
Gentile from Moor.
Oh they are clever in so many ways.
And we acquiesce through all of our days.
Waiting for a Savior to help us now
Surely He's coming pretty soon somehow.
But what if He doesn't?
Tell me, what then?
Will it be left in
the hands of men?
God help us all if that is the case
for as we look into each other's face
We see
Black and white
Rich and poor
Christian and Jew
Gentile and Moor
and therein lies the disgrace.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes
For I Am Human....
i am not democrat or republican,
i am not christian or muslim.
i am not gay or straight.
i am not black or white.
i am not old or young.
i am not male or female.
i am not a believer or a doubter.
i am not happy or sad.
i am not rich or poor.
i am not dead or alive.
i am not good or evil.
i am not sick, or healed...
i am not ignorant or wise.
i am not... i am!
i am all these things,
for i am human,
both divine and common!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I am a man of black and white
I am a man of black and white,
my name is written on the gates of the sky.
i am a man of black and white
my origin is united, yet two apart.
I speak the language of the whites,
but lost in the language of the blacks.
i am a man of black and white,
my resemblance is same with the blacks.
I am a man of black and white,
i was brought up in the land of the whites.
i am a man of black and white,
my home is in the south-east, in the abode of my black dad.
I am a man of black and white,
i love the aspirations of life.
i am a man of black and white,
although two apart, we are united as one.
poem by Randy Micheal
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(Waiting For) The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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(Anti Prejudice Poem) An Opportunity To Become Rich
Someone needs to be rich and someone needs to be poor.
An equal existence would mean it could never be improved upon.
What ever you had, you would have.
Nothing more.
Nothing to be gained.
Always the same.
No dream would ever be accomplished.
No wish would ever come true.
Destiny's askew.
Before we lash out at the rich so easily.
We must realize how they got their.
Was it a inheritance?
Was it built from scratch?
Was it an idea in which one hatched?
Was a gamble in which they finally won?
Was it stolen?
Was it gained by destroying others?
Count the ways to the great accomplishments.
Still theirs as many good as bad.
And to categorize all as the same.
Is a prejudice I just can not approve of.
I'm poor, but I'm glad to have that opportunity to become rich.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Rich and Poor
In me a sense has felt like each,
One causes others to wonder of strange beliefs,
In a feeding are the poor,
Poor are the opposite of the Rich.
In this side of the valley,
The Rich are better at living,
In opposition to the laughter
Of the Poor.
Poor is not Rich,
And Rich carries no Wealth
Of Heavenly Times.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Black and White (Stream XV)
I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?
For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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Law, Law, Law
Law
Law rules the poor,
Rich rules the law,
Every law has flaw
On poor, it is rich man’s paw,
Cases are adjourned
Witnesses are manipulated,
Justice may be delayed,
But Lawyers are survived!
Rich man predicts verdict
Poor man fails to detect
Law veiled by black coat
Penal code brooded in the court
Law, Law, Law still it is raw
Still might is right
Still justice is in dim light
poem by Mula Veereswara Rao
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White Collar Crimes
social pathology;
poor are not prone
more to criminal
behavior honest
poor are bedrock
of moral society;
career options
notorious fleeting
crime benefits
white collar crimes
fancy lawyers
buy rich client
freedom Bell Curve
merry propaganda
Frankensteinism
blocks sewer pipes
H&M IQ thesis
non-white poor
discrimination
rhetoric evolved
to any race poor
laid off victim poor
stolen their houses
is not yet enough
greedy robber baron
rich must also steal
a hard poor workers
honour pride dignity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Does Not Matter
it does not matter who you are.
where you're from
or what you've done.
it does not matter, if you're
short and round, with a smile or a frown.
or if you're tall and lanky
and always cranky.
if you have the looks or body
everyone desires
or if you could even put out someones fire.
it does not matter, your disposition.
you should not be catorigized
in a position.
it does not matter, whether you're rich or poor
or if you're quick in the mind
or slow at times.
human nature and association
will always find devastation.
we're always taught that black is black
and white is white,
but! never shown who is right. (if anybody)
this decision lies in your heart
the choice you make- is your start.
so think it out before you criticize
for you also are on that line.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Verwoerd is Black
This poem is pregnant
with the black bloodshed of 1976.
This poem is constipated
with slavery of the poor.
This poem is the titanic of people’s hopes
sinking in the freezing ocean of democracy.
This poem is the enemy of the state,
‘cause, this poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
This poem is a hook that fishes
odd deeds buried behind black faces.
This poem is a mirror
that reflects odd unknown images
of stinking rich black men.
This poem is the voice of the angry dead.
This poem is a hammer to nail
in the brain of greedy politicians.
This poem is a database
of all black leaders.
This poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
This poem is for you
black man who spits
at the sight of a white man.
This poem is for you
white man who owns a savaged land
full of secret mass graves.
This poem is for you
black and white who hug and kiss
to please Madiba.
This poem is for you
the poor, who sing:
freedom has finally come.
This poem is for you, who know no truth,
‘cause, this poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
This poem is for you
my brother & sister who have lost taste
of your mother-tongue
in the multiracial Model C schools.
This poem is for you
black mama, who has configured her black being
‘cause black is barbaric.
This poem is the anger of hunger.
This poem is for the unemployed voters
who find solace in booze, sex & crime.
This poem bears testimony.
Don’t you know?
Verwoerd is black.
poem by Mpho Ramaano
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He will bring us all, rich and poor, white and black, to his judgment seat.
quote by Jupiter Hammon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black men, White men
should i be led to believe
that the white men's heart
is soft as cotton? and when
touched, is torched, bursts into flame
to settle comfortably in black,
a trail of humble lesson for the soul
should i be led to believe
that a black man's heart is
full of courage? charging like a bull
through America black or white
settling for nothing in between?
should i be led to believe that
black and white work the
theory of ying and yang
ever balancing to rev up the world?
rice would even grow in bush
black hair turns eventually into
a crown of white wisdom
and blackboards light up
knowledge in white chalk
white shines at its best in black
and where else but a piece of white
where black could make its clearest stamp
of its stand - left or right, right or wrong
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I think the rich are too rich and the poor are too poor. I don't think the black people are going to rise at all; I think most of them are going to die.
quote by Nina Simone
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Why? Why? Why?
if you're a white man
walking through a black neighborhood,
do you feel nervous?
why?
if you're the only black family
living in a white neighborhood,
do you feel isolated?
why?
and why do we think a poor
black man came from the projects?
and a poor white man
came from the trailer park?
why?
every time you see a Hispanic
family in the grocery store,
do you think 'they're illegals'?
why?
did it ever occur to you that
the people who've programmed you
to think and feel this way....
might have an ulterior motive?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The poor rich
Who is poor rich? Who is rich poor?
A lone duck among swans is poor rich.
A lone swan among ducks is rich poor.
Each circle has either of one in it.
30.05.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Poor Baby
Orbison/c & r price
Glittery eyes; witchy smiles
A good time is all you are after
Skin tight thighs; little white lies
Put you in the center of the laughter
But your reign of queen is over
Your fortress has been broken down
You're still the center of the laughter
But your role has changed to the clown
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Someone broke your heart in two
Ooh poor baby
Who would have thought it could happen to you
Poor baby
A pretty face; sweet talkin' ways
Got you a part of the action
A come-over-touch, glances and such
You always had to be the main attraction
Now you're the one who's crying
You lost at your own lonely game
You're still the center of attraction
But now i'm gone, you've got yourself to blame
Chorus
Ooh poor baby
Do what you said you'd never do
Ooh poor baby
You let someone get much too close to you
Poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
Poor baby,poor baby
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Death of the Old Mendicant
There was a rich old gentleman
Lived on a lonely moor in Switzerland,
And he was very hard to the wandering poor,
'Tis said he never lodged nor served them at his door.
'Twas on a stormy night, and Boreas blew a bitter blast,
And the snowflakes they fell thick and fast,
When a poor old mendicant, tired and footsore,
Who had travelled that day fifteen miles and more,
Knocked loudly at the rich man's door.
The rich man was in his parlour counting his gold,
And he ran to the door to see who was so bold,
And there he saw the mendicant shivering with the cold.
Then the mendicant unto him said,
My dear sir, be not afraid,
Pray give me lodgings for the night,
And heaven will your love requite;
Have pity on me, for I am tired and footsore,
I have travelled fifteen miles to-day and more.
Begone! you vagabond, from my door!
I never give lodgings to the poor;
So be off, take to your heels and run,
Or else I'll shoot you with my gun!
Now do not think I'm making fun;
Do you hear, old beggar, what I say?
Now be quick! and go away.
Have mercy, sir, I cannot go,
For I shall perish in the snow;
Oh! for heaven's sake, be not so hard
And God will your love reward.
My limbs are tired, I cannot go away,
Oh! be so kind as let me stay.
'Twas vain! the rich man said, I shan't,
And shut his door on the mendicant,
And said, That is the way I'll serve the poor
While I live on this lonely moor.
Then the old mendicant did go away,
And, murmuring to himself, did say,
Oh, woe's me that ever I was born!
Oh, God, protect me from the storm!
My feeble limbs refuse to go,
And my poor heart does break with woe.
Then he lay down and died among the snow.
He was found by the rich man's shepherd next day,
While he was searching for sheep that had gone astray;
And he was struck with fear and woe
To see the body lying dead among the snow.
So the shepherd ran home and told his master
About the very sad disaster;
That he had found a dead body in the snow,
But whose it was he did not know.
Then the rich man ordered the body to be brought to his house
And to be instantly dressed by his loving spouse,
For his conscience smote him with fear and woe,
When he heard of the old mendicant being found dead in the snow.
So the poor old mendicant was buried without delay
In a very respectable way,
And from that very day the rich man was kind to the poor
And never turned any one away from his door.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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There Is A War
There is a war between the rich and poor,
A war between the man and the woman.
There is a war between the ones who say there is a war
And the ones who say there isnt.
Why dont you come on back to the war, thats right, get in it,
Why dont you come on back to the war, its just beginning.
Well I live here with a woman and a child,
The situation makes me kind of nervous.
Yes, I rise up from her arms, she says I guess you call this love;
I call it service.
Why dont you come on back to the war, dont be a tourist,
Why dont you come on back to the war, before it hurts us,
Why dont you come on back to the war, lets all get nervous.
You cannot stand what Ive become,
You much prefer the gentleman I was before.
I was so easy to defeat, I was so easy to control,
I didnt even know there was a war.
Why dont you come on back to the war, dont be embarrassed,
Why dont you come on back to the war, you can still get married.
There is a war between the rich and poor,
A war between the man and the woman.
There is a war between the left and right,
A war between the black and white,
A war between the odd and the even.
Why dont you come on back to the war, pick up your tiny burden,
Why dont you come on back to the war, lets all get even,
Why dont you come on back to the war, cant you hear me speaking?
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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