I Am... (The Rage Of Love)
i am the gun,
in the hands of the thinker,
the last road, the last chance,
the last prayer, the last door.
i am the sickness,
that greed inflicted,
that apathy wont touch,
that stinks at the table.
i am the parents,
burying their child,
i am the stranger,
burying the parents.
i am the poor,
denied the word freedom.
i am skin of color,
covered by tasteless white skin.
i am the rope,
hanging from the rafters.
and the holy book
that tied the noose.
i am the drug of charity
that denies involvement.
i am the token gesture
made by hands that never open.
i am the dollar and the dime,
and the vast wasteland between.
i am the sound of books burning,
and the crackle of flesh.
i am the cry for justice,
lost to the din of noise.
i am the noise of ignorance,
that shouts defiantly at stillness.
i am the face of the small child,
whose parents just died.
i am the rage of love,
too long denied!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Related quotes
Pleas of a Babe from the Womb!
Oh, daddy, can you hear my voice?
To be your child was just God’s choice;
Allow me please to make first noise,
And God will add to you both, joys.
Come to my rescue, dear father;
Permit me to be born, mother;
I long to see the world God made,
Like you, before I start to fade.
Oh, mummy, am I unwanted?
My pleas to you go ungranted;
The love of God put me in here;
The love of man, I see nowhere!
I beg of you, my parents two;
I am your very own child too;
I am your flesh and blood also;
Give me a chance to see both, oh!
How unkind can my parents be?
I am like them in ways every;
God grant them sense to allow me,
To be born well, like them freely.
God gave me life;
God gave me a soul;
God made me too whole;
But I’m afraid, my thread of life,
May get the knife!
Dedicated to all unborn babes;
‘May their souls rest in peace! ’
'May God forgive their parents' sin.'
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-15-2008
poem by John Celes

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What Color? (Hope)
what color
was the dust
from which the stars
were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?
what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....
the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?
what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?
what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?
what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?
what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?
nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?
and what color is hope?
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Conflicting Idealism!
When mother had put on the dress to me,
She told me not to let anyone to remove that,
When I became slightly older, she gave me,
The long skirts and blouses to wear,
Then the sarees of various materials, color and designs,
Filled my closets, I used to run around,
When I was young and then I was advised,
To walk slowly without making any noise,
Though the anklets, the parents had worn,
Around my ankles always made the ringing tone,
For them to know where I was,
From wherever they were,
Mother advised me to sleep on the side,
And for my every sneeze she arrived with pride,
To cover my exposed joined feet and to correct,
A few strand on the face and smiled,
A well educated man whom my parents and relatives loved,
tied the three knots to make me his wife.
This is the guy, who asks me to do,
What my parents prevented me to do.
This is the guy that my parents respect the most,
And advise me to listen and obey whatever he says.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

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I Am Human, I Am Love!
i am the stranger,
the drifter, the hobo...
the rebel, and the lost one....
my voice is a small whisper,
my body a twig.
i am the gift left
on the doorstep of the unwanted.
i am the prayer
that even god does not hear!
i am the child no one wants,
the woman no one loves.
i am blood on the hands,
i am guilt, and forgiveness.
i am the old man's touch,
that no one wants.
i am the child and the dog,
that love the old man.
i am the stray cat,
curled against the step.
i am Judas weeping,
and Magdelene made a whore.
i am the young gay boy
condemned for loving.
i am the soldier who cant
bring himself to kill.
i am the pregnant young girl
who cant tell her parents.
the old man with cancer,
who sits with a revolver.
i am the parent who failed,
and the child who walked away.
i am the broken, and wounded,
i am human, i am love!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Who Must Take Care of Old-aged Parents?
Which child will care for parents when old-aged?
Which child will show compassion and respect?
Which child will find the time to talk kind words?
Which child reciprocates their affection?
Gone are the days of joint family system!
Gone is the sense of values in people!
Gone are the times when blood was quite thicker!
Gone with the wind is honouring parents!
Have parents not showered love on children?
Have they not slogged to give them life's comforts?
Have they not nursed them whenev'r they fell ill?
Have they not done their duties to their kids?
The world today is selfish to the core;
Children just want the wealth of parents old;
None volunteer to tend to old parents;
Children show scarce love to their parents dear!
What has then come upon children today?
Who should take care of parents, elderly?
Should not one's children take care of parents?
Much love seems lost in families these days!
poem by John Celes

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Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons

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A Poem For Mr And Mrs...
I have never met you officially!
And my wife didn't know what to say!
When I ask her, where are your parents?
So, I can give you a hard hands shake
And tell you, thank you for a beautiful daughter.
death came and denied you the chance.
I haven't met you
Death came! Just before I can,
Tell you that 'I am intending to marry your daughter'
Death came! Just before!
i can give you her lobola
And ask you to count it.
death came and denied you the opportunity
I wanted you to be there,
On our engagement day and our wedding day
To share with us, the feeling and excitement
Cuddle and chuckles of the day.
death came and denied you the moment
I wish we could have met
Sit around the table
Drink cup of coffee
And talk about soccer
Laugh about it, dispute about it
death came and denied you the opportunity
Now one day these children will want you!
They will ask me and my wife about you
One day they will want all those old stories and tales
As grandparents do to their grandchildren
death came and denied them the opportunity
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya

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The Hands Of Time!
the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Epilogue (Conclusion)
i am a child of weeping,
i cannot lie or pretend.
the voice of those that hunger,
the face of those in need.
the cry for justice amid injustice,
the stand for equality and fairness.
the torch of liberty and human rights,
that burns without identity.
the sweat of god fallen
on the dust covered road.
the whimper of the holy child,
held in his mother's arms.
the needle laid down,
the slave set free.
the prayer of urine and blood,
the common body of love seeking love.
the hands and the feet,
nothing more and nothing less.
and destiny, but this,
to paint with raw color!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Be there an introspection
Parents type I:
You feed the dog;
It guards the yard.
You pay the maid;
She is your aid.
Bone and flesh,
Parents gave you.
Without their nod
You flee with a lad.
You are ungrateful;
Parents are indignant.
Parents type II:
Plants give flowers
For bees to hover.
Moon sends light
For lovers to delight.
Cow yields calf.
Calf selects the bull.
Your bone and flesh-
Out of parents’ blush.
Give bone and flesh,
With one you wish.
Your joy parents cherish.
They have no remorse.
Which parents are you-
The one demanding a return
Or the one retaining the love?
22.11099
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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Parents vs children, children vs parents.
So many family is divided,
Parents against children agitated,
On the other side the kids do not approve them,
Criticizing, judging for every happenings and problem.
Many child blames the parents for numberless reason,
They oppose the strong, the weak and ready to abandon,
Many times parents are dictators, keeping the kid in slavery,
Neither of them is an angel, which is an irony.
Would be lovely if children would keep the commandment,
Respecting, understanding & loving the parents every moment,
Then, maybe they would receive that treatment too,
When they become parents & only justice they would do.
Mankind is teaching about peace, love and respect,
In this moment there is neither effect,
Oh parents and children when do you understand at last?
Learn to love and respect each other and forgive that bloody past.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs

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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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Which Side Do You Belong To?
i hear the cry of the hawk and the rabbit,
i feel the talons tearing flesh.
i smell gunpowder, and bodies burning,
i hear the sound of boots on the road.
the groan of the tanks turning without faces,
the buzz of the drones flying above.
the mechanical order, as life is destroyed,
the cry of babies on their mother's dead breasts.
the mourning sisters who bury their brothers.
light making shadows on all the colors of skin.
the shout of the flags, the bowls left empty.
the bolt of the rifle, the knife slid from the sheath,
the sound of the falling just before impact.
the cry for freedom on the lips of the martyr.
the pages of the holy book turned down forever.
the prayer of justice over equality's grave.
the soldiers of poverty who fought against all odds.
the sound of dead elders drawing in their breath.
the wind named liberty howling and lost.
the fingers of the child touching dead lips.
the song of the bruise, the scar, and the dream.
the smell of flesh bartered for hope.
the last drink of daylight, the dark night unending.
the face of eternity in slivers of moonlight.
the star of humanity falling from the sky.
the presence of god, and the absence of presence.
the mountains crumbling, the rivers gone dry.
the last trees walking into the distance.
the sound of the chisel carving in stone,
the last tear wept by the shadow called being.
and i turn and i stand in the name of dignity,
holding in my hands the pages of history.
the moment lost to vast infinity...
saying, tis now, or never,
truth counts the cost...
which side do you belong to?
poem by Eric Cockrell

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White Skin Black Heart
Yeah, whatcha gonna do now, now that you started?
Whatcha gonna do now, now that its done?
The words got out there, they float around and are coming right back down.
You gonna leave us lying here
Dealing with the consequences of a bad sound
Of a bad sound.
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Whatcha gonna do now, that its spoken?
These words of a habit, have not faded away.
.................... it clear, conscious gets opened like a wound.
If you cant concieve a better line and better times,
Then let silence bury you, in the end.
When you feel it, when you feel it
Youre condemned.
You see, youve lost your strangle on the freedom road! you
Think ........................of something a long time ago! you
[spewed it out you were so] insecure! it was like ............. on
The toilet floor! youre a [nine seat] drunk, ............... and
You say you want something, .......... you heard the rednecks
Roaring for blood and then they wanted more! life was so small, you
Couldnt get enough. you made a start.
White skin black heart
Dripping,
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
Drag your eyes from [aurora] black heart!
White skin black heart
Drag your leg, get outta here [my sight]!
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
You didnt have to start
White skin black heart
White skin black heart
song performed by by Midnight Oil

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When A Child Is Lost
When a child is lost,
lost to unknown circumstances,
lost to suspicion of persons
with evil intentions,
then to the eyes of the parents
the lights of sun, moon and stars
have ceased to shine,
the blooming flowers in October
lose their fragrance,
and food doesn't taste
in the tongue.
When a child is lost,
then parents who plea
for their child's return
move us to tears
because children are not
goods to be stolen
but priceless treasure
to be cared for.
When the child is lost,
we share the universal pain
of losing our beloved.
Let us pray that the human goodness
in the heart of the person
who stole the child prevail
and that the lost child
be found.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen

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Help Save A Child's Life Today
this little girl has kinky hair
black is the color of her skin
almond eyes that speak
and small hands and
short arms
the ad says,
help save a child's life today
and i read it silently.
i ask myself, honestly, please do not brand
me as racist
is there such a white child
who can say, 'Help me! '
i am just wondering.
and what about the brown child in Asia?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Little Abigail and the Beautiful Pony
There was a girl named Abigail
Who was taking a drive
Through the country
With her parents
When she spied a beautiful sad-eyed
Grey and white pony.
And next to it was a sign
That said,
FOR SALE—CHEAP.
“Oh,” said Abigail,
“May I have that pony?
May I please?”
And her parents said,
“No you may not.”
And Abigail said,
“But I MUST have that pony.”
And her parents said,
“Well, you can have a nice butter pecan
Ice cream cone when we get home.”
And Abigail said,
“I don’t want a butter pecan
Ice cream cone,
I WANT THAT PONY—
I MUST HAVE THAT PONY.”
And her parents said,
“Be quiet and stop nagging—
You’re not getting that pony.”
And Abigail began to cry and said,
“If I don’t get that pony I’ll die.”
And her parents said, “You won’t die.
No child ever died yet from not getting a pony.”
And Abigail felt so bad
That when she got home she went to bed,
And she couldn’t eat,
And she couldn’t sleep,
And her heart was broken,
And she DID die—
All because of a pony
That her parents wouldn’t buy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein

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Lonely Child
Lonely child in the night.
Under heaven's golden lights.
I heard you cry near a stream.
Where maidens sing and sleep and dream.
Lonely child have no fear, the lord will dry your heart-
sick tears.
The night is young, a blue jay flies and whispers softly
please don't cry.
The lord above is free to roam he will help you from his
throne.
The lord loves you true and dear.
He only laughs he never swears.
Lonely child please don't run, beneath the sky, moon or sun.
You parents love you yes they do.
The clouds have dimmed, but no one knew.
Lonely child a lion prowls.
This lion is special he'd dare not bite.
He only hunts game in the wild never children o' lonely child.
Lonely child go back home, cross the deserts
where buffalo roamed.
The lord will lead you safe and clear.
So don't you cry nor shed a tear.
You parents miss your loving touch.
Your loving hugs and summer blush.
They miss the way you'd smile and grin.
You think they wouldn't you're only ten?
Lonely child in the night.
Your parents searched day and night.
For a child in the wild.
Their only son you lonely child.
Lonely child don't you cry.
And don't you dare tell a lie, on the lion in the wild.
He'd never hurt you lonely child.
Your parents love you very much.
So let them feel your loving touch.
Lonely child in the night.
A little dove flew, in fright.
I know you love your parents so.
So run and tell them let them know.
Let them know how you feel.
Let them know your love is real.
Lonely child run or fly.
Soar the heavens and the skies.
Soar the rivers and the streams.
Your smile will make the moonlight, beam.
poem by Shaan Sidhu

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Lonely Child
Lonely child in the night.
Under heaven's golden lights.
I heard you cry near a stream.
Where maidens sing and sleep and dream.
Lonely child have no fear, the lord will dry your heart-
sick tears.
The night is young, a blue jay flies and whispers softly
please don't cry.
The lord above is free to roam he will help you from his
throne.
The lord loves you true and dear.
He only laughs he never swears.
Lonely child please don't run, beneath the sky, moon or sun.
You parents love you yes they do.
The clouds have dimmed, but no one knew.
Lonely child a lion prowls.
This lion is special he'd dare not bite.
He only hunts game in the wild never children o' lonely child.
Lonely child go back home, cross the deserts
where buffalo roamed.
The lord will lead you safe and clear.
So don't you cry nor shed a tear.
You parents miss your loving touch.
Your loving hugs and summer blush.
They miss the way you'd smile and grin.
You think they wouldn't you're only ten?
Lonely child in the night.
Your parents searched day and night.
For a child in the wild.
Their only son you lonely child.
Lonely child don't you cry.
And don't you dare tell a lie, on the lion in the wild.
He'd never hurt you lonely child.
Your parents love you very much.
So let them feel your loving touch.
Lonely child in the night.
A little dove flew, in fright.
I know you love your parents so.
So run and tell them let them know.
Let them know how you feel.
Let them know your love is real.
Lonely child run or fly.
Soar the heavens and the skies.
Soar the rivers and the streams.
Your smile will make the moonlight, beam.
Lonely child in the night, an angel, there's no need for fright.
poem by Shawn Henley

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Black Tie White Noise
Getting my facts from a benneton ad
Im lookin thru african eyes
Lit by the glare of an l.a. fire
Black tie white noise
Ive got a face, not just my race, bang bang Ive got you babe
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
Sun comes up and the man goes down
And the woman comes again
Just an hour or so to be safe from fear
Black tie white noise
Then we jump thru hoops, were divisable now, just disappear
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
We reach out over race and hold each others hands
Then die in the flames singing we shall overcome
Whoa! whats going on?
Therell be some blood no doubt about it
But well come thru dont doubt it
I look into your eyes and I know you wont kill me
I look into your eyes and I know you wont kill me
You wont kill me
You wont kill me no
But I look into your eyes
And I wonder sometimes
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
Oh lord, just let him see me
Lord, lord just let him hear me
Let him call me brother
Let him put his arms around me
Let him put his hands together.
Reach out over race and hold each others hands
Walk thru the nite thinking we are the world
Whoa! whats going on?
There will be some blood no doubt about it
But well come thru dont doubt it
I look into your eyes and I know you wont kill me
And I turn my back for I know you wont kill me
You wont kill me
You wont kill me no
But I wonder why
Yes, I wonder why sometimes
Putting on the black tie
Crankin up the white noise
Theyll show us how to break the rules
But never how to make the rules
Reduce us down to witless punks
Black tie white noise
Facist cries both black and white, whos got the blood, whos got the gun.
Putting on the black tie, cranking out the white noise
Oh yeah
Cranking out
Cranking out
Cranking out white noise
Black tie white noise
Cranking out
Cranking out
Putting on the black tie
Cranking up the white noise
Cranking out
Cranking out
Cranking out white noise
Black tie white noise
Cranking out
Cranking out
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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