En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Who's Next?

with every swing of the hammer
that drove the nails,
into His feet, into His hands,
He felt...

the hunger of starving children,
the pain of those sick,
the lost agony of the homeless,
the shame of the beaten...

the repentence of the fallen,
the last hope of the downtrodden.
the dignity of the poor,
the torment of those in chains...

take Him off of that cross!
it's our turn to be human.
time to be who we are,
or to be nothing at all...

who's next?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Spoon... (In Our Hands)

the spoon in our hands
digs the graves of starving children.
our choice to turn away,
buries those afflicted by war.
when we take first,
without a thought to giving...
we bury the body of god,
among the poor and the homeless.

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Agony

Ever wonder how He felt?
Praying in the garden
His students asleep
Could not watch for an hour
He knew He had to die
Even if it's just for me
He would be scourged
He would sweat blood
Even if it's just for me
Agony!

There He was, fixed
Nails in hands and feet
For a moment
Abandoned by God
Agony!

They pierced Him
Blood and water gushed
Mom at His feet
Brothers vanquished
Head bowed
Breathed His last
How He felt?
Think you have it hard?
Think about Him
Agony!

He was wrapped
Buried and left
Thought it was the end?
Not so fast!
Three days later
He got up
Just like that
Now He reigns victorious

Today knees bow
Eyes close
Agony?

poem by Buxton Shippy
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Wanderer

It was a taxidermal view
thousands of fawns on the lake.
Can you handle the die-off
of the whole truth?
I have nowhere to go. Genes are
turning on, turning off. Bare hands
holding the bruises.

Hungry, but cannot eat
looking at the tattoos on the back of
starving children.
I am sick these days in the midst of glory
and shame. Faithlessness is a prize
wrapped by shadows. The snakes
are climbing on the walls.

Human things, like chimps
kissing and hugging to calm down.
in memoriam of a lost tribe.
The body of a chaste god
lies buried under the debris of unholy secrets.
Homeless I wander, beneath the high sky.

poem by Satish Verma
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How Could You Know?

if you've never known hunger,
how could you know?
if you've never been homeless,
how could you know?
if you've never been sick,
and couldnt get medical care,
how could you know?

if you've never hid in the night
while the bombs fell around you,
how could you know?
if you've never killed, or
wanted to but didnt,
how could you know?
if you've never been abused,
beaten, or taken advantage of,
how could you know?
if you've never been imprisoned
for something you didnt do,
or for something you did,
how could you know?

if you've never been left alone,
without hope, without a prayer,
how could you know?

but if your brother or sister,
from anywhere around the world,
has done and felt and experienced
these things...
how could you not know?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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In The Name Of Humanity

we who have heard the roar of silence,
who have walked in chains,
who have been imprisoned.
who have been to the place
where hunger lives...
who have slept in cars,
and underneath bridges.
who have worn our failures
for the world to see...
who have tasted the fruit,
who have worked the fields.
who have died each day
for a small portion of living.
who have reached for the sky,
and fallen from the limb.
who have been the tears,
the sweat, and the anger.
who have slept alone,
who have crawled in passion's window...
who have carried the cross,
and yet drove the nails.
who have argued with god,
and took the blame.
who refused to bear arms,
who fought for survival.
who raised our children,
and buried our parents...
and all too often, our sons and daughters.
who refused to believe the lie,
who demanded our dignity.
who have asked forgiveness,
and given the same.
who have listened to the trees,
the rivers and mountains.
who grieved with the fishes,
and wept for the whales.
we who have lived,
bearing bruises and scars,
lay our beings on the altar
of justice and equality.
and becoming our beliefs,
we stand as we are....
with arms outstretched,
in the name of humanity!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Homeless

Homeless;
- Down by the muddy Mississippi
Skinny as a rail,
Sleeping under the old Eads bridge
Feeling low, dirty, and frail -
Homeless;
- With less than two coins
In both pockets,
Empty eyes
Look through sunken sockets -
Homeless;
- So many people walk right on by
I wonder how many care,
They all keep moving
Even though they stare -
Homeless;
- Lost a job
Lost a home,
Lost a family
Lost all hope -
Homeless;
- Where will I go from here
What should I do,
I'm so thankful when the weather's fair
And the skies are blue -
Homeless;
- Don't know the day nor season
And, yea, it sure gets cold at night,
I've got an old sleeping bag
I'll be alright -
Homeless;
- There's so many of us out here
Without a home,
Even so
I feel so very alone -
Homeless;
- It's a tough situation
Not pretty, just true,
And at any time
It could happen to you -
Homeless;
- Hey buddy...
Could you spare a dime,
And say a prayer for us
... sometime -
- I'm just homeless, not less human...

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Could/Would You Change Places With Jesus

I looked upon the picture of CHRIST
And I felt so ashamed.
He died for us! Was it all in vain?
Every whiplash opening up his flesh
Would you be able to take it?
Could you pass this test?

What about the crown of thorns
Piercing deep into his head
Would you have changed places with him?
Would you be there instead?

Would you have been able to carry your
Own cross up the mountain top?
And then get beat every time that you stopped.
Would you have been able to stay conscious
As the nails pierced your hands and feet?
Or would you have just fainted
Because your constitution is much too weak.

Can you imagine your mother crying out your name
People throwing rocks and mocking you
While your mothers heart in pain.
Is your faith so strong, that you
Would do what he had done?
Or would you turn your back and just begin to run.
Would you have been able to utter:
‘ forgive them LORD, for they know not what they do.
Or would you have cursed them
Until your life on earth was through.
Would any of us have had that strength
To take all that pain? - I think not!
And that’s a crying shame.

But he doesn’t expect us to suffer as he had done.
For he came to save this world.
“THIS WAS GODS SON”!

poem by Louis Rams
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16 Penny Nails!

strong harsh words,
16 penny nails driven
by a big hammer....

truth tears at the flesh
of the lie and the liar!
things arent pretty anymore.

hurt is real!
homeless is real!
jobless is real!

hunger is real!
the streets are real!
prison is real!

prejudice, oppression,
hatred, violence....
people used, and thrown away!

persecution... over religion,
over sexual choice,
over political viewpoints....

wars fought over oil fields,
riot squads beating peaceful protestors...
women losing the rights

to their own bodies....
lonliness, suicide, drug addiction....
a harsh picture, faces put on bodies....

and yet beneath it all
there still lies a beauty...
all human beings, all human beings,

made in the image of God!
how can we not respect each other?
and how can we overlook....

the value of life?
with trembling hands wiping away
the blood, sweat, and urine of life...

trembling hands that when joined
become the hands of prayer!
16 penny nails, with heart!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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You May Never Die But That's A Lie Oct 30th,2012

Your big forthcoming problem will really be your death,
I know; I know, you haven't thought much about that yet,
And the preacher said you will go to heaven; if you are good,
But don't show your disaffection with politicians as you should.

Therefore maybe you don't need death with dignity any time soon,
Because you're a good guy - not some homeless criminal goon,
Not like poor Sue Rodriguez who was indeed very very sick,
There's no need to think about this - it might be some gimmick.

Do you think you might eventually get sick before you die?
Could it be a nice pleasant sickness before you say goodbye?
In Oregon they can have death with dignity before they go,
But not in Canada they say and this; you better get to know.

poem by James Bredin
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Message From Eid 3id

What is Eid 3id
Its about Forgeting your greed!
Get up off your feet

What is Eid 3id
give up your feast
Share your sweets with those crying begging in the streets
Go, wipe the tears of those children in need

What is Eid.3id
Take a walk visit the sick, poor and the old
Pray for the sick, feed the poor, keep the old warm
away from the cold

Im EID 3id, i'll be with you soon
The children, the sick, poor and the old
Every day they spend without a smile, is a lost day
If you have money, give to the poor
If you don't have money, go visit the sick give them hope
If you don't have money, with one touch you can take away the loneliness from the old and show them that you care
Let them Wear a smile as you know one size fits all
If you do this, Everyone will smile in the same language

Im Eid 3id
how beautiful to see a mother's face light up with a smile because her child is having something to eat, it shouldn't be like this we all diserve to smile in the same language

This Eid.3id
i will share with them what i have, and if they don't have a smile, I'll give them one of mine

Only then i can feel complete

On the day of EID 3id

poem by Salma. Torrez
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Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless

There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.

There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.

There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.

There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.

Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I'm sick

I’m sick of always waiting for the breaks I never get,
I’m sick of being left behind and sleeping in my sweat,
I’m sick of making money when the ends are never met,
I’m sick of being sick of life I’m trapped inside a net,
I’m sick of having to be strong when I’m a nervous wreck,
I’m sick of working dead-end jobs that lack any respect,
I’m sick of waiting in a line where I am never next,
I’m sick of knowing that I’ll never truly be the best,
I’m sick of acting normal when I know that I’m a mess,
I’m sick of other people saying that I’m really blessed,
I’m sick of having all this pain I feel inside my chest,
I’m sick of being stressed, I’m feeling so depressed,

I’m reaching for a goal that very few are to obtain,
And no more strength is left in me because of all the pain,
I know that I have said that there is God inside the rain,
But where is God in moments when my bodies feeling drained,
And where is God in moments when a prayer won’t explain,
The fact that I was born a baby lacking half a brain,
The fact my hands and feet are tied together by these chains,
I can’t break free I need some help but all I get is blame,
I’m blamed for the mistakes I’ve made and it is such a shame,
I know that I’m a winner yet I’m losing to life’s game,
I’m losing my religion and all I do is entertain,
The other mindless people I swear this life is so mundane,

I’m always asking why,
I always say I try,
I’m looking to the sky,
Accept the pain and fly.

poem by Nathan Streango
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A Rusty Nail

I ran a nail into my hand,
The wound was hard to heal;
So bitter was the pain to stand
I thought how it would feel,
To have spikes thrust through hands and feet,
Impaled by hammer beat.

Then hoisted on a cross of oak
Against the sullen sky,
With all about the jeering follk
Who joyed to see me die;
Die hardly in insensate heat,
With bleeding hands and feet.

Yet was it not that day of Fate,
Of cruelty insane,
Climaxing centuries of hate
That woke our souls to pain!
And are we not the living seed
Of those who did the deed!

Of course, with thankful heart I know
We are not fiends as then;
And in a thousand years or so
We may be gentle men.
But it has cost a poisoned hand,
And pain beyond a cry,
To make me strangely understand
A Cross against the sky.

poem by Robert William Service
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They are starving for happiness

They are starving for happiness
Their belly is full of mess
Joy is their food
Without it their dead

Starving all way of hunger
Cry in every saw they looked
Fingers are in cold, shivering
They are starving for happiness

Mind looked in every crying eye
Drops let fall. As they saw
No mistakes done, no wonder
They are starving for happiness

Open hair, all scenes amazing
No soft blow of air, nothing
They can’t survive more
They are starving for happiness

Heart full of sorrows, no glow
Hands red, can’t move long
Lot of hunger, full of blood
They are starving for happiness

poem by Monica kulal
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The Next Step

will my next step
help feed the hungry?
heal the sick?
give solace to the lonely?
find housing for the homeless?
help save the rain forests?
help save mountains and rivers
for my children's children?
stop the killing of whales?
the killing of women and children?
help eradicate prejudice?
stand for freedom and dignity?
bring hope to the hopeless?

well... will it?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Children Of The Poor

Children of the poor
ever since your birth
what is it you have known?
What is it you are worth?

You have felt hunger.
You have felt pain.
You are undernourished.
You've become the bane
of societal indifference
that's become the norm.
The wealthy shut their eyes, not seeing
the approaching storm,

The storm that's been brewing
like Katrina lashing out,
consuming all the misery
it has brought about.

Children of the poor
what difference does it make
that the children of the rich,
eating steak and cake
give no thought to all of you?
Their life is bountiful.
They take a sideward glance
and step back on their hill.

But hills can come a-crumbling
on this big old earth,
leveling out the playing field,
leveling out the worth

Children of the wealthy,
it is time you think
that the times that are coming
can change in a blink,
when all will be equal
as they look around.
The poor will inherit
and their worth will be found.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Mary from Nazareth

Mary innocent girl from Nazareth
when you went on your knees
standing in front of the God of the universe,
before your marriage already pregnant against the law

did you know that the Godly child that you were carrying
would only depend on His heavenly Father,
that He would be downtrodden by men and despised
without ever complaining about his fate?

With your fear during childbearing with pain circled out wider
did you know that He would bring salvation to the world with pain,
that blows would cleave into his body, with a crown of thorns upon His head,
before nails would pierce his hands and feet mercilessly?

That night right there in the stable
when your gaze fell over the bare circumstances
did you know blessed woman,
that the God of the universe

came to this world only as a mere man,
stripped from his omnipotence without end
to fulfil His mission here as a mortal
without cursing those that were murdering Him?

When you nursed and cared for Him day after day
teaching Him to count on His fingers
did you realise the depth of His love and knowledge
when He told the priests in the temple about God?

Mary from Nazareth, when fear were cutting through your motherly heart
when you saw your darling child suffering,
hanging for the entire world on the cross
did you know that his omnipotent Father was still near?

When His last power dissipated on the cross
were you then estranged from your son
or did you know that He would rise again
to take up His place as the conquering God?

Mary woman from Nazareth did you remember His words,
or did the mourning mangle you too deeply
when your son carried the shame of the world
to know that you could trust His promises?

l’Envoi
When thunder cleaved through the air and fell in darkness
while He died next to a murderer and thief, of sin an image
did you know why a God had to die
that your own child had to prove that God loves selflessly?

or would this realization only later become clear from the words of His followers,
did you know that He would bring salvation to the world with pain,
that blows would cleave into his body, with a crown of thorns upon His head,
before nails would pierce his hands and feet mercilessly?

[After Elisabeth Eybers/Reference: Maria (Mary) by Elisabeth Eybers.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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So What The Fuss

If I'm caught at a dance party without my dancin shoes
And everybody dances on my bare feet
Shame on me
If I'm mindin my business just doin the right thing
And you try to front me off in the street
Shame on you
If a family's waiting for that special blessing to
come their way
But they ain't tryin to get on their knees and pray
Shame on them
And if we live in a time where every nation's fightin
'round the world
Yet we can't all agree that peace is the way
Shame on us
Shame on me, Shame on you, Shame on them, Shame on us
(repeat)
So what the fuss
If I gotta get up early in the morning for a job
interview
And I forget to set the stupid alarm
Shame on me
If my children are playin outside like little children
do
And you come 'round there tryin to bring them some
harm
Shame on you
Should I be drivin thru a klantown, find a restaurant
to get me some food
And someone says "hey boy, we don't serve your kind"
Shame on them
And if we live in a democracy and you don't use your
power to vote
Knowin some would like to turn back the hands of time
Shame on us
Shame on me, Shame on you, Shame on them, Shame on us
(repeat)
So what the fuss
If I'm hooked on a habit knowin damn well it could
cost me my life
Yet I keep doin what I should do without
Shame on me
If you're locked in a marriage and your other half
just gives you abuse
Yet you've convinced yourself that there's no way out
Shame on you
If we're jammin the music and somebody's got the
audacity
To say that they can jam it better than us
Shame on them
And should there be just a handful that believe that
we are totally free
And there's no need to fight for equality
Shame on us
Shame on me, Shame on you, Shame on them, Shame on us
(repeat)
So what the fuss

song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Heart Bleeds (98)

I fancy I can hear the sufferers moaning
The starving woman and the dying man
The malnourished children with the hunger blown pot bellies
My heart bleeds for the people of Sudan.

But these people they need far more than sympathy
They need food and care and medicine right away
They have eaten the seeds that they had to be planted
And hundreds die of hunger every day.

For life's small blessings I ought to be thankful
For I am one who doesn't have cause for moan
Compared to many I feel very privileged
The pangs of hunger I have never known.

One of my neighbours never stops complaining
He grumbles by life he is hard done by
But he looks overweight from over eating
And of malnutrition he will never die.

And another I know he tried to take his own life
Because his girlfriend left him he is in despair
I feel more pity for those dying of hunger
For a broken heart is not beyond repair.

In a Land ravaged by disease drought and hunger
To live to thirty years seen as a lengthy span
And my sympathy is with the starving millions
The hungry and the homeless of Sudan.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Paper Bag

I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had
But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
-i thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag
-hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know Im a mess he dont wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
-hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope
Baby said he couldnt stay, wouldnt put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I said, honey, I dont feel so good, dont feel justified
Come on put a little love here in my void, - he said
its all in your head, and I said, sos everything -
But he didnt get it - I thought he was a man
But he was just a little boy
-hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know Im a mess he dont wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
-hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
-hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know Im a mess he dont wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
-hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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