They'll Debate!
small town, vacant store fronts,
set ablaze, and burning,
early morning February sun!
people stand and gawk,
by the old tracks, train forgotten...
childhood memories, up in smoke.
they call it America,
the land of opportunity;
freedom weeps, no one hears!
cars built overseas
powered by Middle East oil,
race by, headed for Walmart...
and tonight they'll debate
over family values and taxes.
somewhere, a church bell ringing,
and someone goes to bed hungry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
America?
America, can you hear me?
America, I’m screaming across the seas, can you hear me?
America, I’m pounding on the doors of every inner city family in the states — climbing the gates of every upper class family in this place, can you hear me?
Can you feel my beating heart, America? This beat that greets each pair of feet as they make their way through the piss stained streets to meet their ultimate fate with a plastic smile and handshake covering their rage like melting crayons in a cardboard box — can you hear me, America?
America, I’m screaming from the top of my mind and the bottom of my soul –
Where’d my independence go?
I’m screaming for you like it’s everything I know and I have nothing left to show but my calloused hands and my ragged, drawn-out lungs.
America, I’m trying to sing the songs that have yet to be sung.
I’m pulling people up the social ladder on the bottom rung
But the steps are too creaky and the people’s faucets are leaking and they’re moving their mouths but you can’t hear them speaking.
I’m speaking for them, America! Dammit, I’m shrieking!
I haven’t forgotten them yet — it’s for them my heart is beating!
Remember me, America? Remember my name?
My hands may be empty, but my soul’s still the same.
We entered like brothers but somewhere you changed and I forfeit the game of placing blame –
That gives us nothing — just more of the same.
Remember my drive, my will and my spine?
Remember the years we both spent intertwined on a bed of shared values we created together?
And the world we promised each other we’d make better?
I’ll never forget you and I won’t forget them,
and I’ll keep yelling and singing and ringing until then.
I’m here on your doorstep, I’m ringing your bell.
Freedom’s ringing, America, and I miss you like hell.
poem by Emilia Barrosse
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America Post 911
Land of freedom
Land of war
Land of peace
There you are
America!
Land of spirit truth and grace
Land that will never quit the race
May you fight until you're done
Because the battle has not yet been won
America!
Land of the beautiful
Land of the free
Bring the enemy to his knees
May his conscience sear his soul
Till the bell of victory tolls
America!
This is America land of the brave
Though you hurt us our banners continue to wave
High above the skies our spirits soar
As we replace future's door
America!
poem by Mitzie Thorne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Borderstone
The night is as black as the coal dust on the tracks
Up to the east day is dawning
From time to time I get women on my mind
Im a son of a gun
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
The train that Im on is a hundred boxcars long
So I dont sleep through to the morning
Thats some chilly wind in this gondola Im in
I wish I had a glass of beer
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
The boardinghouse reach is a thing no school can teach you
I confess Ive been outfumbled
And the sound of the beans boiling through the evergreens
Sure do please a hungry man
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
The sound of the wheels rebounds across the fields
Im a name with no number
And so I guess Id be drifting more or less
But still its not meant to be
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
Borderstone, borderstone gonna cross your line tonight
Borderstone, pretty little town, gonna make my bed tonight
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Many
how many vacant store buildings
in small town America
does it take?
how many of our boys dead
on foreign soil
for no apparent gain?
how many unemployed people
waiting in line?
how many meth labs?
convenience store's robbed?
how many teachers laid off,
and kids that cant read
or do simple math?
how many sick people
who cant get medical care?
how many houses foreclosed?
how many homeless
wandering in worn out cars?
how many oil spills?
how many mines collapsed?
how many nuclear accidents?
how many prisoners
wrongly convicted
on death row?
how many small children killed?
how many suicides?
how many acts of rage?
how many acts of desperate hunger?
how many?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Small Town
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic thats me
But Ive seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an l.a. doll and brought her to this small town
Now shes small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look whos in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and thats good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And thats probly where theyll bury me
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Karmic Revolution!
Reagon babies lying dead
on the Middle East sands....
oil battles there, even to
South America!
American workers stand in line
to buy the goods they lost jobs to...
bailing out the banks
with more borrowed money!
more Chevy's sold in China,
than are sold here!
Japan's Hiroshima cars
flood the market...
their kids stay in school,
their workers have jobs!
yet still whaling, and nuclear disaster!
terrorists steal planes,
or get elected to office....
trading clean water for oil,
and the profit is high!
the houses built by
the Hollywood president...
now stand vacant,
owned by banks that are owned!
and we stand in the street,
with nothing left to lose....
following in the footsteps
of our brothers and sisters...
in Epypt, in China, in Libya....
wherever they fight...
for freedom, equality, and a chance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thr Railroad Tracks
Who lived across the railroad tracks?
A few of us whites, but mostly blacks.
These railroad tracks without even knowing
separated my town and kept it growing
into a segregated place.
I used to listen for the sound of the train.
As it rolled on by, it would never remain.
It just kept rolling to where it was going.
The engineer waved. The smoke kept blowing
into a segregated place.
Even when the trains stopped the rolling
the tracks will still there.They were controlling
the thinking of the people in our town.
So they kept the tracks there, never tore them down
in our segregated place.
Some were on the right side of the tracks, you see.
Some were on the wrong side of the tracks, like me.
They never took the tracks down from 60 years ago.
And the town I grew up in doesn't want to know
it's a segregated place.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Looking For Sugar!
following the trail of the ants,
past empty factory buildings.
past fields not planted.
past vacant store fronts.
past cars up on blocks,
and signs yelling 'for rent'...
following the trail of the ants,
looking for sugar!
following the trail of the sun,
from day unto night.
from family to forsaken.
from home to the road.
from god to the faces
that ring like haunted church bells,
following the trail of the sun...
looking for sugar!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Half Drunk In Jesus Town
church bells ringing
down by the mission
walking these streets again
down by the old feed store,
and the row of empty buildings,
listening to the ghosts of the past.
the railroad tracks stand silent,
that old train dont run anymore.
here and there people walking,
aint nobody talking,
stray dogs and broken bottles,
stopped to light one last cigarette.
i can still hear my mother calling,
can still see my daddy's tired eyes,
can still hear the preacher, and
them old songs
but you cant take me down
to the water anymore.
old signs falling in the wind
take one last draw from the bottle
cant bring back what you never had
half drunk in Jesus town.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vacancy, For Rent
walking the streets
of a small southern town...
empty buildings, empty houses,
'vacancy, for rent'
no one moving much,
even the church parking lots
are empty.... seems like
Jesus and His disciples
packed up, and moved on...
probably looking for work!
only a sense of quiet despair,
the sound of old cars rusting,
and the howling of a dog.
just read the news:
an elderly couple, married
67 years, murder suicide...
he'd been sick, she had
alzheimer's.... afraid there'd
be no one to take care of her...
another unmarked grave,
forgotten people, abandoned
by their own government.....
another empty house that
used to be a home...
'vacancy, for rent.'
just walking the streets
of a small southern town...
church bells are ringing...
and the smell of death
hangs in the air!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Beautiful America
America my beloved country is falling apart
It's the air I breathe, in her lies my heart
People fighting in the streets, gangs killing everywhere
Are we to lose our freedom, for our children will it still be there
Are all our values gone, they want to take God out of our land
We can't let this happen, everyone needs to take a stand
Just a few can't do this, we all need to stand up for her
We must stand together we can' t allow for her destruction to occur
America's cries can be heard far and loud
Pray for God to heal our land, listen not to a booing crowd
Listen not to the evil, love your neighbor and lend a hand
Let not our country, sink away like in a quick sand
poem by Donna Nimmo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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America My Country
It's great to live in a country big and strong
It doesn't matter if you are young or old
Our thoughts are as good as gold
Where we go on land or sea
We can always be happy and free
Free to express our thoughts and then
Even express them over again
To different people no matter what color or race
In America for them there is always a place
To make a home
For their families to roam
The fields; the woods.
The countryside
Especially the young man and his bride
For seniors and teens
In formals or jeans
Who ever it may be
Remember we can always be free
Just like a bird chirping, singing happily.
Like chipmunks in the wood
Calling to his mate and being good.
Good to his family
And Grandpa talking to his Emily
Pondering over ideas and thoughts galore
And, off to bed and listen to him snore
Taken up in the morning early light
Whenever it is nice and bright
In America where we are always free
Where in New York Harbor stands the Statue of Liberty
Her hand raised high toward the sky
Where our planes in freedom fly
Where all of us want to be
America for you and me
Liberty and freedom will never end
I'll get down on both my knees and bend
To thank God I am an American
In a country great and grand
Who wants to be anywhere else
Except in America where we can do so much expand
America will always be my land.
poem by Florence D. Schmalke
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The Funeral Bell
The funeral bell is ringing a reminder of our mortality
Farewelling a deceased soul one day 'twill ring for me
Ringing in the stillness of this cool Autumn day
Across the rural city in the morning damp and gray.
The funeral bell is pealing for one a last farewell
And few sounds sadder than the slow peals of the loud funeral bell
Above the streets and houses it echoes to the sky
For one bound for her or his last resting place the cemetery nearby.
The peewees in the town park distinctive in their call
And the magpie on a wattle pipe on this cool morning in the Fall
And for one who will not breathe again the eulogy is read
And the funeral bell is tolling in memory of the dead.
The funeral bell is ringing for one a last goodbye
And on the clock of our mortality the hours just seem to fly
Respect to the departed is all that we can pay
And for each and everyone of us a final night and day.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visionaries
America was a dream.
America was a vision
Made by believers
Who made a decision
To break away from old mistakes
And start something new.
It did not come easy.
The believers were just a few.
But it only takes a few
To believe in what is right.
And so America started
But not without a fight.
It was about taxes
Just like it is today.
But instead of King George
It’s the politicos taking our pay.
So where do we stand now?
We’re in the same boat.
Slowly we are sinking.
We can’t stay afloat.
We need new believers
To take up the fight
And lead us with new vision
And true insight.
We are people of every color.
We are people of every creed.
We offered freedom
To people all in need.
But the politicos have turned us
One against the other
And ratcheted up the hate
In this land that is our mother.
America where’s your dream?
America where’s your vision?
Where are the believers to make a good decision?
They’ve gone to the Promised Land
And what do they see?
As they look upon us all
They see that we’re not free.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Workers Of America
Workers of America shout long and loud
As we work together hard and proud
We are the ones that built this great country of ours
From the strain on our backs and our blisters and scars
We were the ones to clear the fields and lay the tracks
We are the ones to build the cities and break our backs
And we are the ones to sweat and bleed and die
As we built this great country, which no one can deny
We work the factories, and the stores and the mills
We dig the ditches and collect the garbage to pay our bills
We are the ones to work in the snow and in the heat of the sun
If it wasn't for us the workers, no work would ever be done
It wasn't the politicians or the judges who built this great land
But it was the workers of America as destiny had planned
Also we are the ones to fight the fires and all the wars
When our elected officials send us away to foreign shores
And we are the ones to feed the deprived and the needy
While the rich man cares for no one, but himself and the greedy
Without us the workers this land or any land would certainly fall
As we are the one that mixes the mortar and builds the wall
We pay the taxes to keep America's heart beating
And we are the ones to keep America always competing
Workers of America look up, as GOD gives us a nod
And listen to the past, as our forefathers do applaud.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Have Mercy!
Have Mercy!
with final thoughts
i walk these streets,
past vacant buildings hallowed.
in silent mourning,
my heartbeat joining,
the concrete scarred by living.
passing strangers hurrying,
as if they had a life to return to.
while the shouts and cursing of working men,
rings inside the empty walls!
past tenemant buildings,
and unemployed stoops,
and eyes staring from windows.
dogs too hungry to bark,
squad cars passing slow,
tis the funeral of poverty.
while meth lab food stamp children,
sharpen knives against the curb.
and everything's grey, even the sounds,
the air is drunk with anger.
i caught a ride
with a trucker wired,
who mumbled slamming gears.
out into the country
once green and rich...
now brown and deserted.
fields not worked,
farm's foreclosed,
houses left to ghosts and memories.
tractors rusting in the sun,
the air is drunk with anger.
back into town,
past libraries closed,
and churches that ache with empty.
i can hear the sound
of the distant bells...
be it freedom or infinity.
past hospitals full,
and graveyards that move
with shadows in the night.
back to the small room
where i cant sleep...
where god weeps in the stillness.
America, America...
the air is drunk with anger!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Then There Was You!
clouds hanging, frozen still,
banging the tool shed door.
sunlight colors the morning
with a hundred things to do.
cars speed by going nowhere,
the railroad tracks are empty.
the old store building creaks,
the windows boarded over.
the ghosts of small town heroes
going to and fro unseen.
a different world, a different me,
and then there was you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Suburban satisfaction
Suburban satisfaction
~
A small northern town
Built on industry and mining
Slowly dying, over populated
People meander through life
Holding down jobs and family
A few dream to get away
To better the choices on offer
Others have long given up
Tired of pretending in faith
The streets littered, stand vacant
Crying out for attention
The bars crammed with locals
All looking to be entertained
To talk about the same old stories
That can be heard down the road
There are a few lights to be seen
How long will they shine
Before they succumb to expectation
And find themselves suffocating
In a small northern town
Of suburban satisfaction
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Train
I wanna talk 2 U 'bout this love affair
Is it really true that U don't care?
Seems like every day U grow farther away
Tell me what can I say 2 make U stay
Cuz if U really don't love me anymore (If U don't love me)
I just don't know what 2 say
There's a train that's leavin' in the morning (Train)
That will take U straight 2 Santa Fe (All the way) (Train)
If U feel this thing we got just can't go on (Train)
Then I won't stand in your way
I won't stand in your way
I won't stand in your way, no, no
I'm so in love with U, U're all I wanna be
Whenever U go away, babe, U take a part of me (Oh, yes U do)
A man's gotta do what he gotta do
But remember, babe, wherever U go, I'm with U
Cuz I need ya
CHORUS:
If U really don't love me anymore (If U don't love me)
I just don't know what 2 say
There's a train that's leavin' in the mornin' (Train)
That will take U straight 2 Santa Fe (All the way) (Train)
If U feel this thing we got just can't go on (Train)
I won't stand in your way {x3}
CHORUS
I won't stand in your way, no, no
(Train leavin' without delay)
No
(Train headed 4 Santa Fe)
Oh no, I won't stand in your way
(Train leavin' without delay)
(Train headed 4 Santa Fe)
Mm yeah
Train, train
(Train leavin' without delay)
(Train headed 4 Santa Fe)
(Train leavin' without delay)
(Train)
I just can't go on
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Day Agnostic
he hears the church bell
ring
early this morning
he hears the footsteps
passing
by his door
going
on a worship
towards
the holy door
he keeps himself
mum
unmoved by any
invitation
he is thinking
will the door still open for him?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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