What Happens To You?
what happens to you when
you're in your late fifties,
forty years of on-the-job experience....
and your job shuts down!
you lose everything you've worked for
in an instant.... no job, no future...
and no degree!
invisible people with hard earned callouses....
dedicated moral earn their way people...
not everyone wants...
to be a Walmart greeter!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is Payment Price This Poet Pays
My friend is a salary man luckily gainfully employed
five days a week for eight hours a day he earns his pay.
I also for decades worked my days for weekly monthly pay.
I studied hard put in extra time to fully earn my worker pay,
years sped by I worked and worked to earn hard earned pay,
now for a time a time and a half I do not work this way.
I write I write each day by day or through long night.
I work far harder than I did employed in salary fight.
I live on savings hard earned to earn a right to write.
I charge not chance reader read or read not just as you like.
I work I sacrifice to give gift of love as free as stars above.
I give in time in thought in words in wisdom I give in love.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Fu Manchu
You heard about
A criminal man of virtue
Is there any doubt
His minimal strands would suit you?
Is a hard earned way
Is a hard earned way
Ill never lose
My fu manchu
My fu manchu
Let them grow out
In time youll feel so better
The vanishing pout
Now youre a real go-getter
Is a hard earned way
Is a hard earned way
Ill never lose
My fu manchu
My fu manchu
Is a hard earned way
Is a hard earned way
Occidentally tic-tac
Occidentally tic-tac
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jer McCarthy
He transported cattle for farmers to and from the marts in Kanturk, Macroom and Millstreet
A well liked fellow and known far and wide
And up and down the narrow roads of Muskerry and Duhallow
He often journeyed through that scenic countryside.
He worked so hard for to earn his honest living
For trucking cattle never is an easy job
On dark and wet and slippery roads in depths of Winter
There are far easier ways for to earn one's living bob.
Still Jer McCarthy seemed to like the job he worked at
As he was a people person you might say
He gave good service to the local farmers
And I hope he is alive and well today.
I wonder is he still transporting cattle?
For he's well past retirement age by now
And life as we grow older doesn't get easier
And all of us to father time must bow.
I know that I am looked on as old fashioned
For I am one still rooted in the past
I still recall the years when I was younger
But on looking back the time just went so fast.
At times I feel that I feel over nostalgic
When my eyes mist over with nostalgic tears
As I recall kind souls like Jer McCarthy
And the role models of my younger years
Many people feel that the future only matter
And their younger years they often don't recall
But when I recall my boyhood in Duhallow
I'm remembering my happiest days of all.
And when I remember one like Jer McCarthy
Who worked so hard for to earn his living pay
I feel somehow that the past is worth recalling
And I hope he's still alive and well today
poem by Francis Duggan
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Tornado In January!
major tornado damage here
in the western North Carolina
foothills last night!
up to fifty homes, and/or mobile
homes, damaged, or destroyed.
forty degree temps, and a tornado,
in January!
people left homeless, injured, and
lost everything they had... they
need our prayers, and our help!
we take so much for granted... we
complain about how hard things are...
and then you watch your neighbors
lose it all in an instant...
we need to be family, right here
and now... and to learn to be
thankful for the small things!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I'm Gonna Be Somebody
Bobby played his guitar on the harder side of town
Where it's hard for the poor boy to find the money
He had dedication, he had the heart and soul
Somehow knew he was born to play
People said "Get a real job, support your family
'Cause there's no future in the road you're taking"
He never said a word, the dreamer just kept on
But late at night you could hear him say
He said
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm gonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody someday
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will
The road was a struggle, took him ten years to the top
Now he's #1 on the stage and the radio
Still he can't believe how they come from miles around
When it only seems like yesterday he was sayin'
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm fonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody someday
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will"
Bobby played his hometown one full moon August night
When he heard a voice in the front row singin'
It was a sandy- haired Rebel boy with the same old hungry eyes
Looked up at Bobby and said
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm gonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody someday
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will"
Mmmmmm
"I'm gonna be somebody
One of these days I'm gonna break these chains
I'm gonna be somebody
You could bet your hard earned dollar I will"
Oh, yes I will
You could bet your hard earned dollar
I will
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without A Drumroll Or A Cheering Audience
I was still in my early twenties,
When I felt I had earned my doctorate's degree.
After I had graduated from elementary school,
I had already received my 'bachelor's'.
I was taught to be accountable,
For every responsible action I made.
I did not have a childhood.
I had chores and responsibilities.
And had been a latchkey child by the age of 5.
That was before the innocence of children,
Were identified to be protected and realized.
I was taught to value independence....first!
I was still in my early twenties,
When I felt I had earned my doctorate's degree.
Married, divorced and a military veteran...
I knew my life had excelled through a course,
To experience early such maturity.
And that wasn't a choice!
But more like a marriage of enforcement.
And my tolerance for those who are ignorant is low.
Extremely!
Especially when I've seen people pull themselves up,
Out of places few would dare to go.
Without a drumroll or a cheering audience to encourage.
With so many today wasting their minds and time,
Debating their entitlements while sitting on wide behinds...
Expecting a delivery of some kind they did not earn.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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And With Faith....
i have tried, especially in my later years,
to surround myself with people who know
more than i do, whose understanding is
deeper...
people of diverse backgrounds, who hold
strong opinions... strongwilled people, who
are not afraid to speak and to stand...
and i've worked hard on learning the art
of listening... you'd be amazed what there
is to hear!
especially old people, who've worked and
struggled for years, passionate people with
dreams, hopes, and needs.
what i write is a mixture of my journey and
theirs.... but arent all journeys interwoven?
it seems i'm in constant contact with god,
in various forms, simple acts, usually when
least expected.
i guess what i'm trying to say is thank you...
something i think we all forget to do.
let us live these waning moments with passion,
with storm, with gratitude, and with faith!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Killing Of Malcolm X
Forty years have come and gone
Since that cruel and fateful day
A victim of hearts gone wrong
For freedom, with his life he’d pay
Hardened hearts grow soft this day and age
In some ways life is better, in others life is worse
While in history books, he's earned a special page
Whilst evil men in DC still make use of X’s hearse
Justice still eludes too many in this land so great
Seeds of corruption growing with no end
The backs of “Colored folk” carry most the weight
Worked beyond endurance, a message they now send
Clean-out the Oval Office of corruption before it's too late
For in the hands of 'We the people”, lay a nations fate
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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That's what causing problems in our world
That's what causing problems in our world
people without the moral on the board
I wish there was a university with moral degree
everybody has to have it from the boss to employee
All they teach our children is profit and more profit
do it even you have to legally or ilegally cheat
Use your knowledge to make money
you deserve to be rich, hell with everybody
So what if we have so many professionals graduate from best university
If they are insensitive to the poverty and enviromental problems in our society
We human like to blame problems on everybody around us
Even though we are part of the problems, so stop making so much fuss
A university degree without moral back up graduates a monster
who goes to the society and rub the people like a gangster
Sam Arjommandi
poem by Sam Arjomandi
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She was in the profession
She stopped her work at her lawn when she saw me
and leaned over the fence and we talked for over two hours
with my elbow on her posts and my feet resting
against the palings.
She had worked forty years in the same profession
and had seen generations through the doors. She
had enjoyed her work and people still call her to
tell her about themselves; they express their gratitude
and how much of a difference she had made.
She walked down the fence, waved her arms
and returned to the corner where I stood.
But what was work for?
she asked.
Forty years doing what was good for others
but nothing that was good for myself.
What was work for? she sighed.
What were forty years for? It destroyed me.
(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))
poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Small People!
it is then...
the small people,
common men and women,
who by their hands built this dream,
who plowed the fields,
paved the roadways...
who picked your fruit,
who built your small businesses.
who worked your factories and mills.
who built your homes and churches.
who drove your trucks, who fixed your cars,
who made your clothes and your furniture.
who worked for too little
to make you too rich....
who hauled your trash,
who wiped your asses.
who worked as cashiers, clerks, and salesmen.
who covered for you when you were sick,
yet worked when they were sick.
who laid your bricks, who cut your logs,
who stocked your grocery stores.
who dug your graves and fought your damn wars,
the small people, that you throw away!
no jobs, no work, no benefits, no insurance...
no medical care, no cars...
no lights, no rent, no food, no shelter...
no name, no reason to be!
the small people...
too old, too tired, too angry, too used up.
self taught, no degree, experience doesnt count.
the small people....
pushed into a corner,
stacked in the alleyways.
broken wheels turning on broken glass.
the small people....
staring back from your mirror,
from the darkness outside your window.
the small people...
who are not going
to take it anymore!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Little Sadie
Went down last night to take a look around
Met little Sadie and I blew her down, went right home, went to bed
Forty-four colt smokes under my head
And I began to think what a deed I'd done
Grabbed my hat and away I run, made a good run, but a little too slow
They overtook me in Jericho
I'm standin' on the corner ringin' the bell
Along came the sheriff from Thomasville
Says "Young man, your name's Brown,
Remember the night you blew Sadie down?"
Oh, yes sir, my name is Lee,
I murdered little Sadie in the first degree
First degree and the second degree
Got any papers won't you read 'em to me.
They took me downtown all dressed in black
Put me on the train and sent me back
Sent me back to the county jail, I had nobody to go for my bail
The judge and the jury they took the stand
The judge hold the paper in his right hand
Forty-one days, forty-one nights,
Forty-one years to wear the ball and stripes
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What pedophiles and people who have sexual desires on children lose sight of to a terrible, terrible degree - a devastating degree - is that their victims are real people who will suffer forever whatever abuses are perpetrated on them.
quote by Jock Sturges
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forty Years
(on the 10th anniversary of the end of world war ii)
Here in berlin - people line up to get in
To wait for the end - living in glorious sin
Theyve looked around - and now there is no looking back
To when rivers ran red - now its the sky that grows black
Shadows are cast as two giants roam over the earth
We light a match - but what is that little flame worth
Once allies danced and sang
But it was forty years ago
Here in d.c. - they talk about euro-disease
And how the french are always so damn hard to please
Otions are passed in brussels but no one agrees
And no one walks tall - but no-one gets down on their knees
Once allies laughed and drank
But it was forty years ago
Where I come from
They dont like americans much
They think theyre so loud, so tasteless, and so out of touch
Stiff upper lips are curled into permanent sneers
Self-satisfied
Awaiting the next forty years
Once allies cried and cheered
But it was forty years ago
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The same people live...the same people die
The same people live, the same people die,
the same people laugh, the same people cry,
as they push on through, life's open door,
the old and the young, the rich and the poor.
The same people love, the same people hate,
the skeptics of heaven, the mockers of fate,
some use the gun, some just don't choose,
the proud and the vain, they win and they lose.
Death takes them all, the end's all the same,
no one can help us, cause no one's to blame,
When the door shuts and the bright lights go dim,
We all follow the same path and we all go to Him.
The same people live, the same people die,
Some still find wealth, while others get by,
the weak and the strong, the slow and the fast,
alone on life's journey, they all stumble past.
It's been this way, since the beginning of time,
To live...it's a joy, to die...it's a crime,
and still, we question and still, we ask why?
The same people live...the same people die.
poem by David Lessard
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At first, it was hard to sit down and read the things that people were saying. A lot of people would've worked their way up to this position and would've gotten a thick skin over a few years' time. For me, though, all this happened in a few months.
quote by Carrie Underwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I suppose it hacks me off sometimes when people go on about all the other stuff, because I have really worked hard at my game, and I've been incredibly dedicated in getting myself fit, and getting my game right.
quote by Jamie Redknapp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is Love for Me (part 2)
Here I stand, finding myself alone again
I’m a fool, to think I couldn’t lose
Now the count is eight
I need to get up or meet my fate
It’s a battle between love and hate
Love is never on time
And hate is never late
People tell me just wait
Love could be your fate
In order to experience joy, you need pain
I’m about to lose it
Because it’s hard to maintain
Stay focused on what’s right
But I feel like I’m going insane
poem by Kovan White
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Little Sadie
Went out last night to take a little round.
I met my little sadie and I brought her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed
With a forty-four smokeless under my head.
I began to think what a deed Id done,
I grabbed my hat and I began to run.
I made a God run but I ran too slow;
They overtook me down in jericho
Standing on a corner ringin my bell,
Up stepped the sheriff from thomasville.
He said young man is you name brown?
Remember the night you blowed little sadie down.
Oh, yes sir, my name is lee.
I murdered little sadie in the first degree.
First degree and second degree,
If youve got any papers will you serve them to me?
Well they took me down town and they dressed me in black.
They put me on a train and they brought me back.
I had no one for to go my bail;
They crammed me back into the county jail.
The judge and the jury they took their stand.
The judge had the papers in his right hand.
Forty-one days, forty-one nights;
Forty-one years to wear the ball and the stripes.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Search Of Little Sadie
Went out last night to take a little round.
I met my little sadie and I brought her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed
With a forty-four smokeless under my head.
I began to think what a deed Id done.
I grabbed my hat and I began to run.
I made a God run but I ran too slow;
They overtook me down in jericho
Standing on a corner a ringin my bell,
Up stepped the sheriff from thomasville.
He said young man is you name brown?
Remember you blowed sadie down.
Oh yes sir, my name is lee.
I murdered little sadie in the first degree.
First degree and second degree.
If youve got any papers will you serve them to me?
Well they took me down town and they dressed me in black,
They put me on a train and they sent me back.
I had no one to go my bail;
They crammed me back into the county jail.
Oh, yes they did.
The judge and the jury they took their stand.
The judge had the papers in his right hand.
Forty-one days, forty-one nights;
Forty-one years to wear the ball and the stripes;
Oh, no!
Went out last night to take a little round.
I met little sadie and I blowed her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed,
A forty-four smokeless under my head.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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