En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Growing Up In America!

you turned your children loose,
out in the streets of poverty....
only a few given a chance,

the rest left to fend for theirselves!
no jobs, unless you wanna soldier,
kill or be killed for oil....

then no jobs when you return,
and no house to return to!
food stamps and government aid,

till that eventually runs out....
then back on the streets where you started,
kill or be killed to survive....

dealing dope, dealing flesh, stealing cars,
no hope of anything more!
get caught and go to prison,

not in a gang, better join one!
poor white kids, poor kids of color,
growing up in America!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want to be a Soldier

I will be a soldier
Only when soldiers realize
They are not animals or
cattles
Only if soldiers can ask
'Why should I shoot that
innocent man? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers can ask the
commander
'Why should we shoot at
the children? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers know that
The red blood that runs
through their veins
Runs in the rest peopl's too.
I would be a soldier if
Soldiers know they aren't
what they ask them to be
When they know that
The Emperor will never ask
them to kill his children
I would be a soldier
When soldiers realize war
is inhuman
When soldiers know war
always starts war
When they know that
World peace can not be
reached through war
When United Nations can
ask themselves
Is war the only way to end
corruption in the globe?
When soldiers know the
distance between peace and
war.
When soldiers realize how
intoxicative the gun is.
When soldiers realize
that gun does not control
them, but they control it.
I would be a soldier only if
soldiers know
why Martin Luther King jnr.
was killed.
If they know Adolf Hitler
also tried to make peace
through war.
I would be a soldier
If they can tell me why they
are only trained to kill.
I would be a soldier if
soldier can say
NO TO BRUTE LEADERS.
I would be a soldier if
soldiers know
the difference between
death and birth.
I would be a soldier if they
can tell
Why they are weapons of
destruction?
If they can explain why they
killed at Vietnam?
Why they killed at Somalia?
Why Ghadafi was killed
without trial?
Why Abraham Lincoln was
shot
Why Ghandi was killed,
Why they dont care if they
die in war in the name of
peace.
I would be a soldier If soldiers know they have rights If soldiers know they need Freedom. I would be a soldier If the goverments around the world realize How wonderful the world would be If the money invests in atomic weapons can be spent To feed billions of children on the streets of India, Nigeria, Brazil, South Africa The United States and all the streets of the World. I would be a soldier when soldiers can fight for liberty And not for slavery When soldiers know that nobody should think for them When soldiers know they are humans not cattles, When they realize that nobody should tell them what to think and what to feel. If soldiers can be humans, I would be a soldier.

poem by Idris Adesina
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ghetto

Talking bout the ghetto...funky funky ghetto
Trying to survive, trying to stay alive
Chorus:
The ghetto
The ghetto
(talking bout the ghetto)
The ghetto
The ghetto
(funk funky ghetto)
Even though the streets are bumpy, lights burned out
Dope fiends die with a pipe in their mouths
Old school buddies not doing it right
Every day its the same
And its the same every night
I wouldnt shoot you bro but Id shoot that fool
If he played me close and tried to test my cool
Every day I wonder just how Ill die
Only thing I know is how to survive
Theres only one rule in the real world
And thats to take care of you, only you and yours
Keep dealing with the hard times day after day
Might deal me some dope but then crime dont pay
Black man tried to break into my house again
Thought he got off early doing time in the pen
Even though my brothers do me just like that
I get a lot of love so Im giving it back to the...
Chorus
So just peep the game and dont call it crap
Cause to me, life is one hard rap
Even though my sister smoked crack cocaine
She was nine months pregnant, aint nothing changed
600 million on a footbal team
And her baby dies just like a dope fiend
The story I tell is so incomplete
Five kids in the house and no food to eat
Dont look at me and dont ask me why
Mamas next door getting high
Even though shes got five mouths to feed
Shes rather spend her money on a h-i-t
I always tell the truth about things like this
I wonder if the mayor overlooked that list
Instead of adding to the task force send some help
Waiting on him Id better help myself
Housing authority and the o.p.d.
All these guns just to handle me in the...
Chorus
Even though they put us down and call us animals
We make real big banks and buy brand new clothes
Drive fancy cars, make love to stars
Never really saying just who we are
We use alias names like too $hort
Sell you stuff you might kill for
Young kids grow up and thats all they know
Didnt teach him in school now hes slangin dope
Only thing he knows is how to survive
But will he kill another brother before he dies?
In the ghetto, you keep one eye open
All day long, just hoping and hoping
You can pay your bills and not drink too much
Then the problems of life youll be throwing up
Like me, but you dont see
Ten years from now, where will you be?
Chorus
So much game in a too $hort rap
Blacks cant be white and whites cant be black
Why you wanna act like someone else?
All you gotta do is just be yourself
Were all the same color underneath
Short dogs in the house youd better listen to me
Never be ashamed of what you are
Proud to be black stand tall at heart
Even though some people give you no respect
Be intelligent, when you put em in check
Cause when youre ignorant, you get treated that way
And when they throw you in jail you got nothing to say
So if you dont listen its not my fault
Ill be getting paid while youll be paying the cost
Sitting in the jailhouse running your mouth
While me and my peoples try to get out
Chorus

song performed by by Too Short
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I grew up in a very modest house. We were poor-we lived on the poverty level. We all got jobs as young kids.

quote by Chely Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The People We Don't Want To Know

From pay check to pay check many working class people have two jobs,
then it all dries up and there is no work and manual labourers are
called work shy…. I knew a woman with three jobs she was tired coming
home, yet boiled potatoes and fried fish for her children before falling
asleep, coughing a lot. She had tuberculosis and sent to a sanatorium,
and the children sent to foster homes. Her illness caused by unhygienic
home, people from the social services said. No one asked why a woman
should hold down three jobs to fed her children and no one said she was
a “deserving” poor whatever this word means. This inequity will go on till
we understand poverty is not a choice but a mishap of birth, few escape,
those who do will always carry the dishonour, the mark of Cain, by being
more hateful of poverty and branding the poor lazy. As the average actor
who got a role in a film that made him famed, his hate his own class, poor
himself once, reveals his fear of slipping back to poverty again; he harms
his flesh and blood in an attempt to get rid of his own stench of privation.
But the Haves can smell an imposter, but they do like money so perhaps
his daughter will make it to the The People We Don't Want To Knowball.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The American Declaration of Co-Dependence

The rich need the less rich
to oil their lives like soundless hinges
and do the jobs they would not want to do.

The poor need the less poor
to make the jobs for them to do

While those in the middle
have aspirations; work hard;
love their kids; and sometimes
feel warm glow of gratitude
for being safe and middling.

Then when times are tough…
perhaps it’s time for charity
and co-dependence
and some noble human impulse
that’s social without the ’ism
that scares the hell out of some folks

so don’t take it out
on the President;
America is you.

Co-dependence.
Like when they first
came off the boat
that passed the Statue
with a cry of hope
in many colours.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Girl That I Met

I met her down streets one evening,
She was coming out of what she calls home,
Where she had left a family,
That is her responsibility,
To provide all the necessities.

She’s a mother and a father,
To the two younger girls at home,
For their parents had passed away,
About four years ago from the disease,
Then she should take care of the family.

There’s no uncles and aunts for them,
All they did was to sweep away everything,
Cars, estates, houses and everything,
Leaving the kids with concrete poverty,
And the children are now suffering.

I asked that orphaned girl how she managed,
To feed the family at her age under eighteen,
She started crying but she dared to tell me,
The story of her everyday life,
The story that keeps on torturing my mind.

She sells drugs down streets every day,
Then selling her body downtown every night,
Making sure she earns something,
To be back with at home for the family to survive,
Family needs shelter, food and clothes.

poem by Fadhy Mtanga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Even though

Even though a new government
is in place,
in Soweto, Alexandra and Mamelodi
there are still hungry children
playing in the streets.

Even though BEE and opportunity
knocks on every black mans door,
hungered out dogs
still prowl the streets
and gangs of criminals
do not have respect
for any law at all
and steal and kill
and society in a way
is much worst than it was before.

Even though black politicians rule
the Filemons, the Thabo’s and most
other black men
still do the jobs
that they did before
and most of those
that now work for the government
do not know
how to work at all.

Even though mister Nelson Mandela is free
and in Dar es-Salaam
a statue of a black man
breaks its chains
and freedom is proclaimed
to be everywhere in this country,
freedom does not really matter
when a nation still lives in poverty
and corruption makes some people
more free than others
know how to be.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Across The Lines

Across the lines
Who would dare to go
Under the bridge
Over the tracks
That seperates whites from blacks
Choose sides
Or run for your life
Tonight the riots begin
On the back streets of America
They kill the dream of America

Little black girl gets assaulted
Ain't no reason why
Newspaper prints the story
And racist tempers fly
Next day it starts a riot
Knives and guns are drawn
Two black boys get killed
One white boy goes blind

Across the lines
Who would dare to go
Under the bridge
Over the tracks
That seperates whites from blacks
Choose sides
Or run for your life
Tonight the riots begin
On the back streets of America
They kill the dream of America

Little black girl gets assaulted
Don't no one know her name
Lots of people hurt and angry
She's the one to blame

Across the lines
Who would dare to go
Under the bridge
Over the tracks
That seperates whites from blacks
Choose sides
Or run for your life
Tonight the riots begin
On the back streets of America
They kill the dream of America

song performed by by Tracy Chapman from Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poor Children

They are the future of humanity
But many of them living in poverty
And without shelter homeless on the street
Searching through rubbish bins for scraps of food to eat.

Poor children are victims of circumstance
In life they never really get a chance
Or have opportunities as privileged children do
The road from the poor suburb to prison leads them to.

From broken homes they are condemned to fail
Their abusive and drug addicted parents serving time in jail
Their parents too homeless in their teen years
On no hope street no laugther only tears.

The Government does not care about those who live in poverty
No political advantage in philanthropy do they see
Their tally men for them have taken note
That few in the poor suburb ever bother for to vote.

Poor children without homes and sleeping rough
And life for them already hard enough
At the wrong end of the social divide
Any chance of a good future to them is denied.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Back To Greed

What's the problem?
Why is there a commotion in the streets?
We have created millions of jobs.
And half of the people weren't qualified,
To fulfill the positions.
And yet they have their jobs!
And people are working.
What's going on?
What is the protesting about?

'Well...
The people are disgruntled,
Because...
Well,
The have an issue with 'pay'! '

What issue?

'They want to get 'paid'.
They want pay for what they do.'

You can't satisfy these people!
First it was jobs.
That's all they screamed about.
Well,
They've got their jobs.
Now you say they want pay?

'Yes.'

What next will they be demanding?
FOOD?
Then what?
SHELTER?
What kind of operation they think we run here?
A 'social service agency'?
You tell them to go back to work.
Because they certainly will 'not' be going back to greed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The God Of Gasoline!

for every gallon of gasoline...
how many children killed?
how many families destroyed
by the bombs?
how many countries ravaged,
how many peoples left
to live in abject poverty?
how many of your own sons
sent to battle,
killed or maimed?
how much pollution in the air?
how many oceans defiled?
how much sea life squandered?
how many political lies told?
how much hatred spread?
how many fat cats getting fatter?
how many hours of work?

gasoline...
the god of food supplies,
transportation and jobs,
even the farm machinery...
the big trucks...
and how much of your check?

there has to be a better way!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poor Poor Kids

Be quiet! Don't make a sound!
Speak when you're spoken to!
What awful fearful bounds
Speaking only on cue

Poor poor kids

You can't go out and play today!
It's punishment, unfitting the crime
This parental power display
For kids, like serving hard-time

Poor poor kids

Adults wield such power
They must be listened to
They can their poor kids cower
As they dim their kids world view

Power seeds have been sown
Hopefully they'll not sprout
So when kids are fully grown
Their kids will not self doubt

poem by Stanley Cooper
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Fleetwood

We were once a thriving town
envied by ports from miles around
plenty of fish and jobs for all
and then the pride before the fall
the fish are gone, the jobs are few
the town no longer what we knew
yobs with drugs, no jobs or hope
just endless puffing on their dope
older people afraid to pass by
who saw the good times and wonder why
i hope my children fly this town
and find somewhere nice to settle down
a place where maybe dreams come true
with jobs, and hope and a future too.

poem by Michelle Garner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My City

In my city the sky can cry all night;
In my city the streets can whine all night;
In my city people die all the time;
In my city, boi, in my city...

In my city, boi, God is forgotten;
people follow religion, their minds are rotten.
People kill for money, die 'cause of money,
banks spend our money, and find it funny.
Kids drink till they forget, they forget till they drink;
it's Apocalypse now, we're way past the brink...
it's a theatrical city, everyone's an actor,
everyone's waitin for next great disaster.
'I would kill for a phone' ain't just an expression,
it's more of a statement - kids full of agression.
kids full of the city, like the city's full of kids,
but they're workin on it - they're killin all the kids...

In my city the sky can cry all night;
In my city the streets can whine all night;
In my city people die all the time;
In my city, boi, in my city...

I'm a Silesian boy who moved to Tottenham,
I'm a Tottenham boy who'll always love London,
I'm a London boy who's Silesia-born,
and my people will be free - so go on, sound the horn!
Exile like Chopin, likewise keeps hoping,
Exile from Home, but somehow I'm coping...
I wasn't bought or sold, jus brought and told
you're gonna study here, and live here - be bold!
so I let my heart turn cold, f- it, why care?
carin never really got us anywhere...
nothing's holdin me back, so come and hold me back,
I ain't no ref, but I change the rules like Shaq.
it's time to speak of feelin, son, you're insecure,
that's why you want the finest chic, but she ain't the cure,
you want the fastest cars, you want the longest chain,
but none of that bulls- will take away the pain...

poem by Patryk Krzywon
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I Killed The Cat

damn i killed the cat
i can't believe it
a well placed kick killed
the cat yet no remorse
wait is that a smile
yea peaceful nights now
you waking up for cats yea
but no its not your life to take
you killed a living thing
it only a cat
there no where near extinction
so you have no problem
no the kids loved it
how do i explain it to them
ooh bury it and say it ran away
but they will be sad
sad! what sad face never killed
no one but my boot did
it collided in its tiny skull
it moaned till it pass
my god i killed the cat
i killed the cat

poem by Robert Roberts
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That Look

a young man
walking down the street...
stopped to talk.

out of work roofer
for a coupla years...
doing odd jobs

when he can...
trying to raise
three small children

on about $300 a month,
and food stamps...
he had that look,

you know, that look,
that gonna get shot
crawling in somebody's window...

trying to steal something
to keep them kids a going...
look...

you know that look!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Kill The World

I see mushrooms, atomic mushrooms.
I see rockets, missiles in the sky.
Day by day, more and more,
Where will this lead to
And what is this good for?
Poor world, poor world.
Concrete's rising up,
Where yearerday was park
You heard the robin's song
Heavy tractor runs
Where air was clean and cool
Make money, bringing fuel.
Where will this lead to
And what is this good for?
A poor world, poor world.
Fishes doomed to die
As people live close by
And oaktree falls with moon
Parking lots will come
With flowerfields were bright
As junkyard covers sight!
Where will this lead to
And what is this good for?
Poor world, is hurting bad,
Poor world, is doomed to die.
We kill the world
Kill the world
We surely do
In peace we do!
We kill the world
Kill the world
'cause we don't know
What we are doing!
We kill it
One by one
Don't realize!
And nuclear piles stand like monuments
Of destruction throughout over the country
Promenades must go
So cars can drive in row
New fact'ry towers tall
Farmhouse had to fall
No flowers in the air
Pollution everywhere.
Where will this lead to
And what is this good for?
A poor world, poor world.
Oceans in despair
There's rubbish everywhere
The seaweed chokes in mud
Nature's had her lot
With nuclear waste and rot
And mushrooms bloom as clouds.
Where will this lead to
And what is this good for?
Poor world, is hurting bad,
Poor world, is doomed to die.
We kill the world...
Don't kill the world
Don't let her down.
Do not destroy basic ground.
Don't kill the world
Our means of life.
Lend ear to nature's cry.
Don't kill the world
She's all we have,
And surely is worth to save.
Don't let her die,
Fight for her trees,
Pollution robs air to breathe.
Don't kill the world
Help her survive
And she'll reward you with life
And don't just talk,
Go on and do the one, who wins is you.
Cherish the world,
A present from god
On behalf of all creatures,
Made by the lord
Care for the earth,
Foundation of life
Slow progress down help her survive

song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ondine

Ondine
You won
All she left behind was an unloaded gun
And my face
Is blushing
For all the things she's done
You couldn't miss that girl
'Cause here she comes
Ondine
Back up
Run over my body with your pickup truck
And finish
What you started
Because I'm done
I searched the whole room over
To find these words
She said
I had the strangest dream
I dreamed I killed you again
Don't make me kill you again
'Cause I couldn't bear to kill you again
Ondine
Was here
You couldn't even take away a souvenir
Of what's left
Of that swinger
She used to call me that
I searched the whole room over
To find these words
She said
I had the strangest dream
I dreamed I killed you again
Don't make me kill you again
'Cause I couldn't bear to kill you
I had the strangest dream
I dreamed I killed you again
Don't make me kill you again
'Cause I couldn't bear to kill you again

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crumb Grabber, Money Snatcher, Giving Moody Back

Crumb grabber.
Money snatcher.
Giving moody back.

My baby has my eyes.

And laying around the house with no chores to attack.

My baby has my eyes.

Even when we visit him in prison he's a hoot.

My baby has my eyes.

Maybe we did spoil him but he's 'so cute'!

(And) My baby has my eyes.

Some can not get over,
How their children grow up.
To do nothing but break hearts.
And become corrupt!

Oh...
They defend their parenting done.
With excuses to the principal...
Why their kids can't seem to learn a thing!
And why it is necessary,
To accuse the teachers, society...
And neighborhoods they live,
Why they have allowed these 'monsters'
To exist without values....
With honored gang memberships.
To do nothing but selfish senselessness.

And have no good deeds,
To offer or give!
Instead of living their lives...
Quick and easy just to be pleased!

'Not 'my' kids.
Not one I raised to be liars or thieves.'

Crumb grabber.
Money snatcher.
Giving moody back.

My baby has my eyes.

And laying around the house with no chores to attack.

My baby has my eyes.

Growing up and making their parents feel guilt.

My baby has my eyes.

To breast feed
And think free is milk!

My baby has my eyes.

Walking up and down the streets to mug and kill.

My baby has my eyes.

Doing things just for 'kicks' and thrills.

My baby has my eyes.

Crumb grabber.
Money snatcher.
Giving moody back.

My baby has my eyes.

And laying around the house with no chores to attack.

My baby has my eyes.

My baby has,
My baby has...
I can't deny those eyes.
Those eyes are mine.

My baby has,
My baby has...
My baby has my eyes!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In too deep

AS TIME FALLS DEEP, DEEP IN THE SLEEP NEVER KNEW WHAT COULD OF BEEN JUST THE LONELY STREETS.
TO FALL BACK ON, THERE WAS NO FRIENDS & FAMILY TO BE DISCRETE, NEVER KNEW WHAT GOOD OF BEEN JUSR THE LONELY STREETS

THEY DO EVERYTHING FROM THE DRINKING TO THE DRUGS, KILLED IN THE STREETS OUT OF FEAR JUST NEEDING A HUG. NEVER KNEW WHAT COULD OF BEEN JUST THE LONELY STREETS.

THE DAYS GO BYE AND HE'S SLOWLY FORGOTTON. COULDN'T SEE WHAT WAS BLIND AND NOW SOMEONE ELSE IS DYING. NEVER KNEW WHAT WAS AT THE END OF THE ROAD, ONLY THING HE HAD TO GIVE, WAS THESE LONELY STREETS THAT WAS TO BIG FOR THE KID.

KILLE OVER DOPE, MURDERED OVER MARIJUANA DIDNT GET WHAT THEY WANTED NOW THEY COMING FOR SOMEBODIES MOMMA. NEVER KNEW WHAT COULD OF BEEN JUST THESE LONELY STREETS NOW THEY IN THE CLUB WITH THERE REST IN PEACE TEE'S BECAUSE THEY WERE IN TOO DEEP...

poem by Talema Lawrence
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