Black And White! (Spirits And Flesh)
black and white,
not different kinds of souls,
merely skin tints!
Americans, and Middle
Eastern people,
worship...
not different gods,
but different understandings
of the same god!
and common people,
all around the world,
have worked too long,
for too little,
are tired of being numbers,
numbers without faces!
tired on being enslaved,
being treated as possessions....
for they have faces!
faces with hearts,
hearts with spirits,
spirits made of flesh!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Faces
Key:-a - anita r - ray
A: look around you
What do those faces tell you?
R: faces, joy and pain
A: faces
All around different faces I see
Some are happy, some in misery
They express joy and pain
No two faces are the same.
R: people, people all over town
Some of them are poor and others wear a crown
Ive seen alot of many faces
Joy and pain in different places
Open your mind, set yourself free
Figure it out, what could it be?
Sympathise, understand
Give love and peace to the other fellow man
A: faces
R: faces, joy and pain
A: look around you
Do you see those faces
What do those faces tell you
A: everywhere I go, different faces I see
A: faces
All around different faces I see
Some are happy, some in misery
They express joy and pain
No two faces are the same.
R: playing with your life, playing with your soul
You all scream out Im the one in control
Killing of the colours, silly stupid games
You know who you are without no names
Dont mess the world cause that the sequal
Open your mind cause we talking about the people
In the world, all kind of places
Different races, different faces
A: different faces
Everywhere
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Tired
I'm tired of people messing with me
I'm tired of people treating me wrong
I'm tired of people saying I stank
I'm tired of people remembering the past
I'm tired of black people
I'm tired of stupid people
I'm tired of selfish people
I'm tired of being the target all the time
I'm tired of feeling sad
I'm tired of people thinking there better than everybody else
I'm tired of people not appreciating me
I'm tired of being tired
I'm tired of being tired
I'm just tired
poem by Shawanda Polk
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The War
Strangers are the souls in the world of the wars
The lives cradle somehow between the death and life
They try to survive the hardship of the life the abject truths of life are there with all their ugly faces
The mercy of hearts are extinguished
The spirits at the cruelty of the men got lost
What the eyes sees the heart ignores
Ah strangers are the souls at the winter night they shiver alone
Like wounded birds they are pale ignored
Alone in this world no place for the broken souls
People are selfish their hearts deny to see others pain
Only in the war you can clearly see the simple truths of the world,
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Man Of 1,000 Faces
I walk the streets by day, I never know quite what to say
It doesnt matter anyway
Man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
For years Ive lived inside my dreams
Somehow Ive made them real, it seems
I made my own rules, because I am a
Man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
I can put on any face, you all know me, but its no disgrace
The king of night, he understands
Man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
Whos the man of a 1000 faces, whos the man of a 1000 faces
Whos the man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
Im the man, Im the man, Im the man, Im the man
Im the man of a 1000 faces, Im the man of a 1000 faces
Im the man of a 1000 faces, Im the man
Im the man, Im the man, Im the man, Im the man (to fade)
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Skylark's Message
SWEET little upturned faces,
Poor little hands and feet,
Little eyes that are careworn and anxious
From hunger and want in the street,
Hear ye that skylark singing
5
Like an angel far away?
'Tis bringing to you a message
From the Golden Gates of day.
Ah, little know ye of the meadows,
Poor little blistered feet,
10
Down in the smoke of the city,
Down in the noise of the street!
But it sings of a better country,
Where tired little hearts can rest;
Of a sun that shines for ever,
15
And the love of a Father's breast.
O poor little weary spirits,
I would that ye knew its song,
For the world is very heartless,
And your journey may be long;
20
And ye need such heavenly music
To cheer you in the night,
Little hearts that are now so noble,
Little souls that are now so white.
I would that ye heard it always,
25
That sweet bird's voice within,
When the heart is sad and lonely
In the long, long struggle with sin;
Till a rest comes out of the sunset
For the labouring hands and feet,
30
And a silence has fallen for ever
On the noise and the dust of the street.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Halsted Street Car
Come you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o’clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.
Take your pencils
And draw these faces.
Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner—his mouth—
That overall factory girl—her loose cheeks.
Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.
After their night’s sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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The Same As I
i get so tired
of writing poems
about suffering....
but everywhere i look,
all around me,
people are hurting....
and try as i might,
i cant close my eyes,
cant shut my ears up
to the sounds of need and want.
and i cannot be silent
as long as there's one person
who is not free,
one person whose rights
have been violated....
one person who is hungry,
one person who is homeless,
one person sick who cannot
get medical care....
one person abused, enslaved,
or treated like property...
i cannot, and i will not stop,
for they are the same
as i... i see their faces
every time i look in the mirror!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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See All Her Faces
(jim stratton / alexander ryan)
Here she comes
Here she comes
Ribbons flying from her half-forgotten hair
Look at her run
See what the world and love have done
See all her faces
See all her faces
Look in my eyes
That she is me
I cant disguise
See all her faces
Ah, ha, see all her faces
Im looking for someone
Of the gentle kind
Knowing that looks can lie
Looking for someone
Is he there to find?
Or should I run on by, ah, ha
Here she comes
Here she comes
Shadows sadly chasing
Every step she takes
Look at her now
She needs love so much more somehow
See all her faces
See all her faces
Look at my life
The wasted years
Each a knife
See all her faces, ah-ha
See all her faces
Waiting for someone
Who will set me free
Passing the time too fast
Waiting for someone
Is that where hell be?
Or should I run right past? , hmm
There she goes
There she goes
Somehow making me and all her faces sad, oh, oh
Ba, da, ba, da, ba, da, ba, da......
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red, White, and Blue
brown and black,
red, and white...
old and young,
male and female.
tired and poor,
pushed too far!
too honest for
our own good...
small towns, big cities,
farms and factories...
hands that work
joined together...
we are a people
that believe in people...
the faces of freedom,
and we have names!
red, white, and blue!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Let There Be Light/ Spirits Dancing In The Flesh
Chorus:
Let there be light
Let there be joy
Let there be love
And understanding
Let there be peace
Throughout the land.
Verse:
Lets work together
In harmony
Lets build a better world
No suffering
And in times of darkness
Just reach out
cause there is a promise
It wont be denied
Repeat chorus six times
Narration:
This is truly paradise
Being here in this celestial garden
With all the ones you love
Where nothing dies or ever grows old
And to be bathed in light
That cast no shadow
Yes
This is the kingdom within
Still you know
Sometimes I miss seeing and feeling
The spirits dancing in the flesh
Spirits dancing in the flesh
Intro:
Cant you see them all around
Theyre all around us
Spirits, spirits dancing all around us
Chorus - chant:
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
Spirits
Dancing in the flesh, the spirits
All over, all over, all over
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Path Of Mirrors
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
Their eyes are lost, their faces fixed like stone
They walk behind the mirrors and here they shall stay
You walk with other souls liveng, breathing, yet for them they are alone
You walk through the hall way down the path of glass
You watch as they walk on into eternity, into the dark
They walk there behind the glass,
People around you going through leaving their mark.
They walk past your reflection as if you never saw
They walk through time as if time weren’t there
They know you would never aproach them
They know you would never dare.
They walk through the glass and look straight ahead,
They know nothing lies ahead, yet they know they can not turn back,
So they walk into nothing instead,
Passing you so all you see is their back.
You pause infront of the glass looking looking past,
You know that you shall not join them you know it is not your fate
You think about the footsteps you take, wondering which shall be your last,
You walk on again only thinking of their fate
Their faces emotionless the souls so cold,
You think of how you own skin feels, so warm,
You watch as the move like action figures made from a mold,
All the same, all waiting out the storm
The storm of life, the storm of death,
You walk along side them as they walk past everyone,
They watch ahead never turning, never looking above,
They turn to noone.
You walk along beside them as they take no notice to lifes dance,
They only walk past, walk through the mirrors of fate,
Kepping one great stance,
You watch people finding their fate.
Their faces so still, alone in the world, without hope
You watch them walk on, you watch them pass
You see their unmoving faces, as they walk up the endless slope
They walk along, behind the glass.
You turn to watch as their souls move on,
You reach out your hand to touch the glass,
Only to feel the glass is gone,
You watch as your hand passes through the glass.
As you hand melts through one by one the spirits turn,
One takes your hand and pulls your arm through,
More spirits feel your presence and more turn,
They watch as you melt through.
You watch your world leave as you leave it,
You have found you fate and not you are here along with them,
They walk on as you pull your body through, leaving behind the sweater of life you knit,
You have come and joined them.
You look back at the mirror to look at your face,
And you see your eyes becoming lost,
As you enter their race,
The race that shall never end, the race through eternity, for now you are lost
You skin feels so cold you face feels so hard,
You walk with them, as one
As you emotions turn hard,
In true time you are done.
You walk with them, walk alone
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
As everything becomes an endless drone,
For now you are here to stay.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Facebook
faces, faces, faces
just faces
Facebook
3500 friends half of whom
he has no inkling about
Facebook
he stares at the faces
he hardly knows
Facebook
faces and faces
he hardly knows
Facebook
an adult returns to kid's world
poke me, poke me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Little Slice of America
To be american, What does that really mean? I sit here in a Mcdonalds with the smell of sewage burning my nostrils making me nauseated as the stentch mixes with the smell of greasy burgers. I watch as a homeless man begs everyone who walks in, for change. I give him what I can spare. I watch as my fellow americans stuff their faces with processed fast food, all with tired faces. And on the T.V. there is talk about a revolutionary war rising in Syria. We sit here in the little busy Mcdonalds eating fat and sugar shaped in the form of what is passed as food while watching a war, people dead on the streets of a less fortunate country. We are exactly what other countries think of us even though we swear we are not. and I admit I am part of it... We are americans.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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King Street
A morn, a sallow lamp-lit morn,
A dawn that never breaks to day!
Old, old the faces, and forlorn;
The hearts look out, so seared, so grey!
It is as if some upturned stone
Had flung to light a vermin rout—
For things misfeatured, souls unknown,
Stagger in blind amaze about.
Along their gleaming lines of light
The charging trams go, head to ground;
Out from the drifting pathways, white
The faces flash—like faces drowned!
And there with painted features drear,
And eyes whose pathos still is sweet,
The hunted hunters prowl and peer—
Their lair the long, slow-surging street.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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The Chase
you chase the numbers
and you are at a loss
how can the numbers feel?
you are in a discomfort
in some fits
and not at ease with yourself
because you believe in
numbers and like horses you
want to capture each
with a rope of your
tired imagination
disregard the numbers and begin
to believe in the words
those syllables
even in the simplest form
of the comma,
the period.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Martyrs!
martyrs...
silently trudging head down
to the promised land.
familiar?
a neighbor, a forgotten uncle,
the stranger you saw on the corner;
the faces...
bombing victims in the Middle East,
hungry children on foreign soils,
the kid picked up for looking suspicious.
the bullied kid that hung himself,
the family living in the backseat
of a car in Florida.
the tired eyed man standing
in the unemployment line.
the protesters, and the cops
with pepper spray and clubs...
the face of the young boy taken
from his drug addict parents...
bodies and faces,
souls wrapped in dirty flesh.
silently trudging,
martyrs!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Gods
Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.
Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into
Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.
How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Inside the classroom
Empty Faces
stare back at the desk
they sit in
those are the tired ones
Faces Full
of happiness
laughing at a joke
their friend just told
those are the happy ones
Faces of Concentration
trying to reach their perfection
by completing their homework,
Homework
no one else seems to be doing
those are the determined ones
Everyone
every few seconds
glance at the clock
hoping the class will be over
but to them
it won't come soon enough
poem by Uder Pressure
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Black Curtain
They walk with the black curtain over their faces
They gather others with the pain it leaves behind
The people live in darkness nothing in their minds
Their faces are blank no expresion no feeling
Those who have seen know what it does
Those who know weep in solitude and sorrow
They don't look forward to today or tomorrow
They know everything yet they know nothing
The peoples skin all white and sickened
Their voices a raspy mist
All they look for all they long for is peace and bliss
Their cloths worn and tattered
They know there is no cure
They know there is no hope, no place for them to rest
For they know they will soon be one less
They know there is no cure they know they will rot away
They walk through this aweful place
With dread and dispare
Everyone knows, and try not to stare
Yet it is so hard to sheild your eyes, to hold back the tears
The black curtain lays over their eyes
The cloth that shall never be lifted
For it is too far they have drifted
The curtain falls over their faces
The darkness sets in
They know the time has come for them to leave this place
There is no expresion on their faces
As the curtian and sickness leaves
They will suffer no more
They will go home
And will never be alone
For the curtain is lifted and they are in the light once more
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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I like black people
I like black people, black people are pretty cool.
But the way they used to be treated was very cruel.
They couldn't eat in restaurants and they had to ride in the back of the bus.
White people should've treated black people the way they treated us.
It's nice to know that black people have come a long way.
Now it's possible that a black man may be the President of the USA.
poem by Randy Johnson
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