American Made (Nowhere To Turn)
American made....
in the fields, backs bent,
working the earth....
in the factories,
hands, eyes, and machines,
moving in well oiled unison....
in the mills,
cloth woven into warmth
and cover.....
on the sites,
buildings going up,
block by block.....
in the trucks,
barreling across the highways,
carrying goods coast to coast....
in the hospitals,
skilled hands healing,
hearts with shoes.....
American made,
standing in unemployment lines,
vacant buildings, trucks shut down....
American made....
not needed anymore,
with nowhere to turn!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Blue Collar Joe
blue collar Joe,
he's standing in line...
aint no trains to hop,
aint no trucks to pop...
he's standing in line,
for a handout, and a hand up....
he made your furniture,
he made your cars.
he wove your cloth....
he made boxes and tools,
he worked your steel.
he made just the right parts
for the right time.....
now you dont need him
to make anything anymore...
cheaper, more profitable,
to ship from overseas....
so he's standing in line....
a line going nowhere!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Occupy... (Citizen Of The World)
occupy...
Wall Street, banks, financial institutions.
the Congress, the White House, the Pentagon.
the court system, the prisons...
empty factory buildings, small businesses,
the coal mines, the oil fields,
the docks....
vacant foreclosed houses,
homeless shelters, soup lines...
the lines of the unemployed.
the fields ready to be picked.
the illegal immigrants bent backs...
the big trucks shut down...
minimum wage slave jobs...
cheap imports made by child labor,
the oil industry, the automobile industry...
occupy...
big farms, those who would spray harmful
chemicals on the crops...
family farms, threatened foreclosure by the banks.
the education system,
the medical profession...
hospitals, clinics, and insurance.
nursing homes, social security, Medicare
and Medicaid...
occupy...
welfare housing, tenemants and trailers...
section eight housing...
law enforcement, emergency services...
occupy....
the military, all national acts of aggression,
the war industry!
voting rights, voter registration, the political process....
occupy...
human rights, equality, dignity and respect.
freedom of speech, freedom of information,
the truth!
occupy...
your neighbors' needs, the suffering of others...
hunger, despair, the human family.
occupy...
your own body, your sense of social consciousness,
your words, actions, and intents...
occupy...
a shared freedom as a citizen of the world!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American As Apple Pie
(eric carmen/dean pitchford)
On this night
On any hot, summer night
Every girl
Every red-blooded boy
Is cryin out
With one great voice
They wanna jump
They wanna turn up the noise
And thats the sound
Thats the thunderin sound
Of clappin hands
And of stompin their feet
Coast to coast
Like a national heart
Watch them go
Go wild in the street
Every kid in the u.s.a.
Is comin out to play
Its american as apple pie
Livin hard, riding high
Feelin every minute like the 4th of july
Go for broke
Do or die
American as apple pie
I gotta girl
I got one fine girl
Shes got hair
Like kansas wheat
She can move
Like a new york street
And she can kiss
She can kiss so sweet
On this night
On this glorious night
We got plans
We got red, hot schemes
Of bustin out
Before we break at the seams
Well cut a piece
Of the american dream
Every kid in the u.s.a.
Is comin out to play
Its american as apple pie
Livin hard, riding high
Feelin every minute like the 4th of july
Go for broke
Do or die
American as apple pie
Its american as apple pie
Livin hard, riding high
Feelin every minute like the 4th of july
Go for broke
Do or die
American
Its american
Its american as apple pie
American as apple pie
Livin hard, riding high
Livin every minute like the 4th of july
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Colors Of Human!
hands black as soot,
my feet are red....
my eyes are green,
my hair turned grey.
my soul is Asian,
my spirit Native American....
my hard working dedication,
........Hispanic.....
my people come from Ireland,
and some from Africa....
anywhere where the persecuted,
.... cut and fled!
working in the fields,
the factories, and even the mines....
cutting wood, milking cows,
working for the man.
i am human!
and i'm damn tired
of being used!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Franco Un-american
I never thought about the universe, it made me feel small
Never thought about the problems of this planet at all
Global warming, radio-active sites
Imperialistic wrongs and animal rights! no!
Why think of all the bad things when life is so good?
Why help with an am when theres always a could?
Let the whales worry about the poisons in the sea
Outside of california, its foreign policy
I dont want changes, I have no reactions
Your dilemmas are my distractions
Thats no way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco, franco un-american
I never looked around, never second-guessed
Then I read some howard zinn now Im always depressed
And now I cant sleep from years of apathy
All because I read a little noam chomsky
Im eating vegetation, cause of fast food nation
Im wearing a couple of shoes cause of globalization
Im watching michael moore expose the awful truth
Im listening to public enemy and reagan youth
I see no world peace cause of zealous armed forces
I eat no breath-mints cause their from de-hoofed horses
Now I cant believe; what an absolute failure
The presidents laughing cause we voted for nader
Thats no way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
No way to go, franco un-american
Where can we go, franco un-american
I want to move north and be a canadian
Or hang down low with the nice australians
I dont want to be another i-dont-care-ican
What are we gonna do franco, franco un-american
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Americans
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
Gee my lifes a funny thing, am I still too young?
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, shed have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, shell take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries where have all papas heroes gone?
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Aint that close to love?
Well, aint that poster love?
Well, it aint that barbie doll
Her hearts been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young american
Young american, young american, you want the young american
All right
You want the young american
You aint a pimp and you aint a hustler
A pimps got a cadi and a lady got a chrysler
Blacks got respect, and whites got his soul train
Mamas got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Aint there a man you can say no more?
And, aint there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, aint there a child I can hold without judging?
Aint there a pen that will write before they die?
Aint you proud that youve still got faces?
Aint there one damn song that can make me
Break down and cry?
All night
I want the young american
Young american, young american, I want the young american
All right
I want the young american
Young american
Young american, young american, I want the young american
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(you want it, I want you you, you want i, I want you want)
Young american, young american, I want the young american (I want to want, to want, to want , to want i, I want you)
All right
(lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young american, young american
I want the young american
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chinese buildings are like American buildings, with big footprints. People don't care about daylight or fresh air.
quote by Helmut Jahn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young American
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American, he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-American?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
And
All night
You want the young American
Young American, young American, you want the young American
All right
You want the young American
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
I heard the news today, oh boy
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man you can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
break down and cry?
All night
I want the young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
All right
I want the young American
Young American
Young American, young American, I want the young American
(I want with you, I want with you want)
All right
(You want it, I want you you, you want I, I want you want)
Young American, young American, I want the young American (I want to want, to want, to want , to want I, I want you)
All right
(Lord I wanted the young american)
(young american)
Young American, Young American
I want the young American
Mmmmmm mmm
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Town America
just an old southern
mill village.... cotton mills
on one side of the road,
furniture factories on the other.
momma worked there,
my sister worked there,
my brother worked there,
and i worked there....
$1.90 an hour, loading trucks
by hand, stacking rolls of cloth
eight feet high without a lift...
putting brackets on beds, or
running bandsaws....
hard hand work, paid every week.
all those buildings empty now....
windows boarded over, signs
falling.... rats run across haunted floors.
even the old gas station
down at the end of the road....
is closed.... no more gas,
no cigarettes, no cold beer.....
and the Sons Of Jesus,
and the Elk's Club quit sharing
the old dance building on the corner....
no one lives here anymore.....
no one lives, no one dies....
and the bum on the corner
that looks like your brother
has no name.... in
small town America!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All American Girl
Skin tight soul delight
Changing her life for another
She dreams magazines
Sees herself on the cover
Anything anytime anywhere
Its fitting in that matters
Faithfully she believes in the look he wants to know better
She knows what she wants
Shes an all american girl
She knows what she needs
Shes a sold american girl
She knows what she knows
Shes an all american girl
She does what she does
Shes an all american girl
Sold american
Shes got a double bubble with a bossanova back
Shes a real hot pepper and I like it like that
Its all right you dont have to change your way
Youre all right Im hoping the best part stays
She knows what she wants
Shes an all american girl
She knows what she needs
Shes a sold american girl
She knows what she knows
Shes an all american girl
She does what she does
Shes an all american girl
Sold american
Street smart close to the heart gotta be real
More than the clothes you wear
You know what youve got look to your heart
You carry your history there
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Among those best known, their highest ambition is to build American homes, possess American furniture, dress in American clothes, adopt the American style of living and be American citizens.
quote by Sheldon Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If they're in cell block 1A or 1B, these prisoners - they're murderers, they're terrorists, they're insurgents. Many of them probably have American blood on their hands. And here we're so concerned about the treatment of those individuals.
quote by James Inhofe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ever since the 1860s when photographers travelled the American West and brought photographs of scenic wonders back to the people on the East Coast of America we have had a North American tradition of landscape photography used for the environment.
quote by Galen Rowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The American Popular Song
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
And there's something about it, can't live without it.
It's the tune of the day, somehow it takes you away
and it grabs you, and it holds you, feel it control you,
makes you want to clap your hands.
Makes you want to stomp your feet.
Makes you want to sing along. It means business.
The American popular song goes on and on.
The American popular song goes on and on and on.
It's a popular song. An American popular song.
A simple story wrapped up in glory.
Once you hear it you know you got to hear it some more.
And that's power, try it, you can't deny it.
Makes you want to clap your hands.
Makes you want to stomp your feet.
Makes you want to sing along. It means business.
The American popular song goes on and on.
The American popular song goes on and on and on.
It's a popular song. An American popular song.
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
It's a popular song, an American popular song.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hymn Of The Dead
the talking faces with painted lips,
stand in nobody lines making nobody sounds.
while gunpowder hangs from cobwebbed books,
in which the pages of freedom are unnumbered.
while justice faint as a wisp of smoke,
curls just above the poor man's reach.
houses left empty except for ghosts,
that have neither name nor memory.
righteous indignation with pale white hands,
that tremble as they pour the cup....
ah, but the cup is cracked,
and blood drips to the floor...
in the hallways of indifference.
a newborn son, put a gun in his hand,
castrate his eyes, teach him hatred.
a newborn daughter, put a broom in her hands,
and prepare her for the planting.
you call this America, the shores of liberty,
dark skinned bones ground beneath your feet.
while poverty takes now two from three,
and bodies are buried in the schoolyards.
crack cocaine, pills, and handguns stolen,
while gasoline steals survival.
and churches burn both plates and pews,
as the five o'clock news fills the needle.
whose mountains and valleys,
whose roads, whose fields, whose barns?
black crows on the tractors.
whose brown hands severed by the border guards?
whose factories and mills abandoned?
whose flags draped on coffins of pine?
whose voices haunt the play yards?
whose trucks abandoned on desert highways?
whose America, damn you! whose family?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The American advertiser has made the superior American magazine of today possible.
quote by Edward Bok
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Progress (a concrete jungle)
Cloudy green
Lush Forest, made
of the stuff
dreams are made of,
a jungle of
culture and
heritage-
now a
city.
Dull grey
buildings, wailing
cries of bustling
cars in the
distance.
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
scrape
the
sky.
and the ever-
progressing society
labels it a
Jungle. All
these trucks
and bulldozers,
all part of
the immutable
progression of
Time,
of the long
and dreary
process we call
Development.
And
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
they
scrape
the
sky.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
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The American Girl
You can see her walking down on a city street,
The american girl
Shes got the passion in her eyes
Shes got the blush on her cheeks,
The american girl
I love to watch her move, her body sways
She whispers then she laughs
Did you hear what she says
I wanna know if shes talking bout me
Doing things her daddy cant see
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
Shes such a mystery to me
Love is full of intrigue
And full of bogart mystique, the american girl
Shes got the promise in the night
The romance in the back seat, the american girl
I love to watch her move, her body sways
She whispers then she laughs
Did you hear what she says
I wanna know if shes talking bout me
Doing things her daddy cant see
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
Shes such a mystery to me
And she stares at herself
In the harsh white light
And she draws in her cheeks
Just like the model
So unsure of herself in the big wide world
The american girl
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
Shes such a mystery to me
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
But thats not enough
The american girl, out in the dark
Shes looking for love, oh oh
The american girl, she breaks hearts
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Undeniably the American art form, too. And yet more and more, we see films made that diminish the American experience and example. And sometimes trash it completely.
quote by Charlton Heston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where once a hillock was
Where once a hillock was
I see bulldozers, trucks
and cranes
busy digging
deeper into the earth.
Houses and tower blocks
rise where once
plants had grown green
against that kopje
and from infinity,
were undisturbed
until man’s hand
stretched out.
No one will know
how great it looked before
buildings broke the serenity
and the rich started to dwell
in houses above the cliffs
and nothing will ever mend
the damage done.
Nature is dying,
pines away and disappears
while people
are erecting buildings almost everywhere.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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