Who Will...
who will make your socks, your shoes?
those left barefoot in poverty!
and who will make your beds?
those who sleep on dirt floors!
who will grow your food?
those whose children are hungry!
who will bring you your oil?
those whose blood stains the sands.
who will write your poetry?
those held in your tiny cells!
who will build your houses?
those who sleep in their cars!
who will build your roads?
those who wander with no direction!
who will you send to war?
those who grew up on the abject streets!
who will march for your freedom?
and whose head will they demand?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Children In America!
one out of three
children in America,
living in poverty?
what happened
to the land of promise?
children hungry,
children homeless,
children that wont
get a good education!
children, broken families,
children without future.
children without love....
turn to hate!
build your cities,
build your banks,
build your kingdoms
drunk on oil and blood!
your children, dying....
who digs their graves?
who closes their eyes?
who prays for their souls?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I And Thou!
i wont wear your clothes,
wont wear your shoes.
i wont live in your house,
i wont sweep your floors.
i wont share your food,
i wont wipe your ass.
i wont sleep in your bed,
i wont build your fire.
i will wear your clothes,
will wear your shoes.
i will live in your house,
i will sweep your floors.
i will share your food,
i will wipe your ass.
i will sleep in your bed,
i will build your fire.
i and thou,
defiant and reliant.
one in many, many in one,
confined, set free,
defined, beyond definition!
illusion, concepts,
or uncarved block!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Are They Children Of A Lesser GOD?
the children of this country should be happy as can be
for they do not have to live in such poverty.
most at least have clothes on their backs
a bed in which to sleep, and food
even if it's only once a day.
and they're taught how to pray.
we are much better off than other countries
around the world.
but try to tell that to the hungry boy or girl.
we are a nation from all walks of life
and have fought so that freedom can ring
and to our national anthem sing.
our children dream of things that they could be
because in this land, dreams can come true.
so let us now see what we can do
to help our brothers' me and you'.
the other child dreams of a warm bed
and a roof over their head.
a bath to wash off the dirt of the day away
a family member with whom they could stay.
clean clothes, clean socks, something which
they have not got.
food set on a table, and someone to help
them if their not able.
to be able to go to school, and learn the golden rule.
to be able to play in the streets
instead of digging in cans for something to eat.
to be able to see a doctor when they're not well
instead of being 'sent to hell'.
to be able to see love in an adults face
and not have to hide in fear and disgrace.
because they were abused by someone who did
not care, whether they lived or died.
and always told the same old lies.
are they children of a lessr GOD?
no! ! for GOD gave us all those rights
and we as adults have to stand up and fight.
stop the abuse in third world nations
let them see GODS creations.
stop the wars, stop the abuse
put the drugs we've got, to good use.
help the elderly, the young, the lame
for we are all the same.
we must practise what we preach it is
the only way that we could reach
all the children who were given to us from above
if they're shown kindness and love.
we won't be here to help them grow
so let's help them today
that much i know.
they are our future, can't you see
for tomorrow we'll be history.
poem by Louis Rams
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We Cry for Food and They Give Us Bullets
Food! Food! Food!
It is all that we need
It is all that we need
to calm down our spirits!
It is food that fills
that fills the empty pangs
of our stomachs,
pangs that make us yawn
but cannot sleep
that make us gulp
but cannot vomit,
that make our saliva
taste sour and acidic!
We cry for food
like the helpless little children
with the art to attract attention
by our street demonstrations.
Yes, we cry for food like little children
to calm down our spirits,
that the cry cannot at all be neglected
for it is food,
it is food that soothes our spirits.
But you give us bullets
on the streets where we stage
our cry for food
You give us bullets
instead of food.
But even bullets cannot silence
our cry for food
for as long as we`re hungry
we shall be like little children
that will ever cry for food.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Injustice Here
Some place far from here
A baby is crying
A child is hungry
A mother is dying
Some place far from here
A family is in need
Adults cannot read
Children capture
Never again to be seen
Some place far from here
There’s no drinking water
Someone’s lost their daughter
Some place from here
People are homeless and alone
Without light and are cold
They sleep on dirt roads
With only their skin and their bones
Some place from here
There are so many things
So much injustice happening
Lots of poverty
Lots of death
But we forget
That right in our country
We have all these things too
We worry about a place far, far from here
And don’t take care of our priorities here
What about the poverty that covers our streets
Or children that are dying with no food to eat
The people in our country are suffering too
So although helping somewhere else
Is what we should do
There are obligations here first to pursue
We’re a great country
We have always been
But to continue this legacy
This is where we begin
poem by Jessica Collazo
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Many Must Grow Poorer
Millions will go to bed hungry tonight that does seem sad to say
And many of them will not wake again for to see another day
The sad fact that many die of malnutrition is sad cause for lament
Whilst billions in war by Governments are spent
Even in the World's wealthiest Nations people live in abject poverty
And the unequal distribution of wealth does seem all wrong to me
The wealthy getting wealthier whilst the homeless of poverty street
Are searching in the rubbish for thrown out food to eat
To have enough of food and shelter should be a basic human right
But millions must try to sleep hungry without shelter tonight
And many cannot feed their families on their meagre take home pay
In an egalatarian World things would never be this way
And many must grow poorer for every new millionaire
And for the hungry millions doesn't life seem so unfair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Isn't Poetry Great?
Poetry is great
poetry is fun
you can write
about anything
under the Sun.
It can be cathartic
and can save your day
you can write how you feel
if your unsure what to say.
Poetry can be serious
and can make you weep
but some poetry is boring
and can send you off to sleep.
But as long as you have a go
and you enjoy what you do
that's all that really matters
when you write a verse or two.
So long live poetry I say
may it always be here
but I've got to end this one
as my muse has run out, oh dear!
poem by Kevin Halls
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April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A2 Story
Lot of hunger and empty bowl without food is poverty,
Not having one more dress to take bath is poverty,
Sheltered, willing but failing to accommodate a guest is also poverty,
Mother's sick but cannot afford treatment is also poverty,
If treated, prescribed but cannot buy medicine is poverty;
A mother's thought,2 mouthful of rice with 3 children is poverty.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
The fort of confidence is dismantled by poverty and frustration;
They can build castles in air though lack inspiration,
They simply look for food threw in dustbin in month of May!
They die while living, live in dying daily with their life of dismay;
Poverty is not crime but it is a curse and worse...
I'm brand ambassador of poverty and I endorse!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Don't show poverty as excuse...
God gave you brain and make use and bemuse,
No matter if you are born in poverty's slum-dom
While some are handicap blind, dumb, deaf and a cough;
You work and Strive dawn to dusk with inspiration, if
You make education oxygen of your life and your kingdom.
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
Hence, don't look up to someone or don't cry and cry;
Go far, father and farthest, Age is no bar so try and try!
Take all ladders, Surpass Eiffel Tower and reach the sky!
Remember one Booker T Washington and Abraham Lincoln
Became presidents of America, and poverty is won!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
From in India to Cambodia and Georgia to Indonesia,
From Kazakhstan to Afghanistan, China and all Asia;
From Namibia to Zambia and Algeria to Nigeria,
From Uganda to Rwanda, Morocco and all South Africa;
Bolivia to Columbia, Guyana to Argentina and all South America;
Third world is resounding with Mania! Mania! Food Mania!
April, March! Soldiers search for Hunger march at poverty's home.
........................................ ................................................. ........................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >>>READ PART ONE >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
BIG NOTICE BOARD: Sorry, if you LIKE to grasp central theme of poem Just take a break! Now READ PART1 to make your reading wholesome.
April, March! Soldiers Search for HUNGER MARCH - A1 Story
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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My people in Khartoum
The war took my people to Khartuom
The war destroyed my people
The war destroyed their culture
The war destroyed their identity
The war lost their values and ethics
My people in Khartoum
They walk barefoot
They beg on the streets
They sleep on street
They sleep in open air
They sleep under unfinished skyscrapers
They’re chased anytime under skyscrapers
They sleep in tents of cardboards
They sleep in tents of sisal and nylon sacks
They eat leftovers from Northern dining tables
The children scavenged in dust pin
My tears drop, dropp ….dropp hundred
Times for their suffering
My mouth jeers, jeers ….jeers hundred
Times for their suffering
May my people sail on my tears home South
The war is over
Go home and build your beautiful grass houses
That don’t leak like cardboard and sack tents
Go and cultivate the land of your fathers
Leave Khartoum, leave Khartoum
Where there’re first, second and third classes
Of people
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Build Me A Woman
Give me a witness, darling.
I need a witness, babe.
Wow, hey!
I got the poontang blues, yeah.
I got the poontang blues. yeah.
Top of my head down
To the bottom of my cowboy shoes.
All right!
Build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
You got to build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
Dont make her worthless,
Dont make her, wow, small.
Right, oh, come on!
You got!
Build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
Build me a woman,
Make her ten feet tall.
Dont make her worthless,
Dont make her small.
Build me someone I can ball
All night long.
song performed by by Doors
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cities Of White Men
Those men build many houses:
They dig the earth, and they build;
They cut down the trees, and they build;
They work always - building.
From the elevation of the mountainside
I behold the clouds:
The clouds build many beautiful houses in the sky:
They build, and they tear down;
They build, and they dissolve. . . .
The cities of white men,
They are not beautiful like the cloud cities;
They are not vast, like the cloud cities. . . .
A wind-swept teepee
Is all the house I own. . .
poem by Anonymous Americas
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In Taking Death Lightly As Possible...
it can simply be reduced
taking out from your tired feet
your old shoes
and socks
and then walking barefoot
towards your bed for you to take that sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im Sorry
Sorry im writing this about you.
Sorry i love you
im sorry i want to make you a part of my life.
im sorry i want you next to me
im sorry i approached you.
I admire you, i love you, i need you.
Im sorry i want to make you my wife
im sorry i want to build a future with you i want to live with you, im sorry i want you to be mother of my children, i want to build a home with you im so sorry you the one i want to marry you.
I want to wake up next to you im so sorry i cant give up on you,
im sorry i cant sleep without talking to you im sorry but i consider you the one for me im so sorry
im sorry for you give me joy, i find peace im so sorry i love you so much
im sorry im THE LEGEND and you will be LEGENDARY wife
poem by Ernest Makuakua
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The Sobs Of The Starving Children
We know about them from the radio and television and the hungry getting hungrier by the day
But we do not hear the sobs of the starving children from where we live they seem so far away
On the six o clock news at times we do see footage of hungry
children in a Land where poverty and disease is rife
And we feel a twinge of sadness that we cannot help them since we have got our own struggles in life.
Still the sobs of the hungry children are growing louder and
not all of them live in a far Country
And not all of them in the slums of the big city there's such a thing as hidden poverty
The single mother raises her brood on welfare and she has to struggle for to make ends meet
And they survive on bread and tea and milk and cornflakes since she cannot afford to buy them meat.
Banks and corporations make billions in yearly profits and we read and hear of their financial gain
But they don't help to feed the starving children and the growing scourge of poverty remain
A mile from where the billionaire lives there's poverty and hunger yet of their plight he does not wish to know
Still for him to grow wealthier others must grow poorer and
life goes on as it did years ago.
To find want you don't have that far to travel for poverty is everywhere and near
And though the starving children keep on sobbing louder their cries for food we do not seem to hear
And sad to say that those who talk and dream of an egalitarian society will never live to see their dreams come true
And in a World where there is want and hunger the majority of the World's wealth still with the wealthy few.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Vermilion
She seems dressed in all the rings
Of past fatalaties
So fragile yet so devious
She continues to see it
Climatic hands that press
Her temples and my chest
Enter the night that she came home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
She is everything and more
The solemn hypnotic
My Dahlia, bathed in posession
She is so into me
I get neverous, perversed when I see her it's worse
But the stress is astounding
It's now or never she's coming home
Forever
Oh (She's the only one that makes me sad)
Hard to say what caught my attention
Fixed and crazy, Aphid Attraction
Carve my name in my face, to recognize
Such a pheromone cult to terrorize
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
(Yeah!)
I'm a slave, and I am a master
No restraints and, unchecked collectors
I exist throught my name, to self-oblige
She is something in me, that I despise
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
I won't let this build up inside of me
She Isn't real!
I Can't make her real!
She Isn't real!
I Can't make her real!
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
(She isn't real, I can't make her real)
song performed by by Slipknot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Giveth His Beloved Sleep
The long day passes with its load of sorrow:
In slumber deep
I lay me down to rest until tomorrow --
Thank God for sleep.
Thank God for all respite from weary toiling,
From cares that creep
Across our lives like evil shadows, spoiling
God's kindly sleep.
We plough and sow, and, as the hours grow later,
We strive to reap,
And build our barns, and hope to build them greater
Before we sleep.
We toil and strain and strive with one another
In hopes to heap
Some greater share of profit than our brother
Before we sleep.
What will it profit that with tears or laughter
Our watch we keep?
Beyond it all there lies the Great Hereafter!
Thank God for sleep!
For, at the last, beseeching Christ to save us
We turn with deep
Heartfelt thanksgiving unto God, who gave us
The Gift of Sleep.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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He Giveth His Beloved Sleep
The long day passes with its load of sorrow:
In slumber deep
I lay me down to rest until tomorrow,
Thank God for sleep.
Thank God for all respite from weary toiling,
From cares that creep
Across our lives like evil shadows, spoiling
God's kindly sleep.
We plough and sow, and, as the hours grow later,
We strive to reap,
And build our barns, and hope to build them greater
Before we sleep.
We toil and strain and strive with one another
In hopes to heap
Some greater share of profit than our brother
Before we sleep.
What will it profit that with tears or laughter
Our watch we keep?
Beyond it all there lies the Great Hereafter!
Thank God for sleep!
For, at the last, beseeching Christ to save us
We turn with deep
Heartfelt thanksgiving unto God, who gave us
The Gift of Sleep.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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I'll build you a house!
You lady so bewitching, is your charm,
You lady, disarmed is me, your arrow, my heart is struck
As weaver birds do their houses, on tree tops
As ants make, colonies, for their queens,
As my ancestors, spear in blood they had dipped,
That, their grand sons, would build houses, for their loved ones
So, I'll build you a house, my queen,
Where my ancestors had pointed, with their walking sticks
A place with tall grass where marks were made with sticks
We'll watch the sunsets, and bless the rising moon.
I'll build you a house, my queen!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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In A Fair World
I cannot empathize with the poor since I'm not in poverty
And I can only imagine how miserable life must be
For those who go to sleep hungry they live with death each day
In a fair World this would not be it would be fair to say.
In a fair World this would not be but all in life's not fair
And thousands are in poverty for every millionaire
In third World Countries every year millions of hunger die
The crops don't grow in rain starved lands, the parched earth far too dry.
In a fair World there would be enough food to go around
And not one hungry person in the whole World to be found
But there is only hunger where poverty reside
And the gap between the haves and have nots has never been so wide.
In a fair World there would not be want and need and very little crime
But the social gap keeps widening despite the march of time
And I who have never lived in the slums or in a third World Land
What it feels like to be really poor could never understand.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Barefoot Floors
Sleep, baby sleep,
I know your day has been oh so long
Sleep, baby sleep,
I know your day has been oh so long
The night falls at your feet
Now the day feels so complete
Compared to darkness
Sleep, baby sleep.
Talk, baby talk
Sweet talk is all its made of
Talk, baby talk
Sweet talk is all its made of
Promises of the morning ways,
New beginnings for another
Day to spend together
Talk, baby talk.
Love, baby love
Has got me walkin on these
Barefoot floors
Love, baby love
Has got me walkin on these
Barefoot floors
Find the light
Surrounding you
Sleep the night til mornings dew
I will be here for you
Love, baby love.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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