To me you are
To me you are the woman
that walks up and down
at the traffic light
and smiles almost shy,
when I look up
and still give a view
of her breasts
To me you are
the hunger and pain,
that I hear in the voices
of children in back streets
where they loose all courage.
To me you are
the crippled gum sniffing children,
that swing walk
with eyes without hope.
To me you are the vagrant,
that struggles along shuffling
and worries about the next
sleeping place and food
and smile without teeth
when he gets a few coins.
To me you are the beggar
who stands unobserved
at a busy traffic light,
while cars are streaming past
where nobody knows or comprehends
his despair.
To me you are the drug dealers
who hangs out in clubs
and look whom they can still catch,
with their contaminating
deadly poison.
To me you are the street thug,
that brakes car windows with bricks
and steal the valuables of people
and sell it at only a Rand or two.
To me you are the criminal
that steals cars in the streets
and are happy
with the despair,
that he is dealing out unscrupulous.
In reality you are the big city
that gives and takes,
where people live like termites
past each other
and rowed in,
as if others do not exist
To rather stay far away from it all
and to get rest and peace there
at times wants to take predominance,
but I love you
like a husband does his wife.
In you is where
some people still build dreams
and wish and live
and have an own place.
In you I see children
giving bread to birds
and people,
giving money to car guards.
In you are places
where people are making a living
and really help each other
and still I believe,
that in places in you
there are more good than evil.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Compared To Many
No doubt you have your worries and times on you are tough
But you have a home to live in and you are not sleeping rough
Compared to many you are well off thousands die of hunger every day
And things for you could be far worse though you don't see it that way
Millions of poor people doing it tough in the bigger World out there
They know all about real poverty and they know about despair
They are the impoverished children of former children of the street
Who search the alley rubbish bins for thrown out food to eat
The victims of drug dealers already into crime
From poverty to narcotic use on their way to serving jail time
You've had a good upbringing though life hard on you of late
And like 'tis said all good things do come to those who wait
But compared to many you are well off those lost in their own despair
The children of the mean streets of the bigger World out there.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pretoria
I look at a city,
a city once modern, new
and progressive, the cultural centre
of a nation
but now poverty
and mismanagement
is taking its toll.
Where ten years back
people could live in its apartments
now is a ghetto,
with prostitutes on the street,
primitive men urinating against buildings
and teenagers walking with ghetto-blasters
playing music at full volume.
Where at traffic lights
windows are smashed with bricks
and valuables are stolen,
parked cars are taken,
where cars are hijacked
with the barrel of a gun
and cars are even stripped
at the police grounds.
A capital city in a country
that has thrown its borders
wide open to the rest of Africa
and every criminal
has headed there
and gangsters live in paradise
but in the suburbs
people still are making a living
in fortresses guarded by dogs
and security devices,
with panic buttons
for the nearest rent a cop
and people still pray
and go to work and play
as if crime is the norm
and the inadequacy
of the new government
doesn’t really matter.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Of Worcester
Worcester, the city of noise,
Walking along these city streets,
Seeing people busy,
pacing,
Cracked city walks,
Aged city houses,
Beautiful city air, '
Never seems to be a minute to spare,
As cars stream along,
Cops and fire trucks pass down my street.
Loud children playing in the streets.
As I walk down the street of mine,
I hear parents yelling at their children.
Dogs barking as you walk by,
Houses that are old and crusty,
Men and women fighting.
This right here is the city I was born in.
The City Of Worcester!
poem by Cassandra Prew
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There are people
There are people
that claims the street as their own
and stand
at parking places on the sidewalk
and do no work
but to look after cars.
If you park there
and ignore them
and do not
want to use their services
you immediately
become a racist in their eyes
and they will make a scene,
threaten to damage your car,
or make sure that it’s stolen
or so they tell you
since they believe
that you owe them something.
Some spray soapy water
without invitation
on the front window
of your car
when you stop
at a traffic light
and wipe it off
demanding a price.
I wonder why the education
is still lacking
since they have already
got their liberation
and just as odd
these people are ignored
by their compatriots in government
as if they do not exist,
while the country
falls slowly
but surely to pieces.
There are people
that claims the possessions
of others as their own
and at night
prowl around in the streets
shooting, stabbing
and robbing
and estranging people
from their cars.
l’Envoi
Still I wonder where
the problem lies
and would really like
both of my cars back
and I do not know
about white people
that sneak around
in black neighbourhoods at night,
hijack cars,
brake windows
and demand possessions
with loaded guns.
All that they do,
is try to make a living
or hurry away in their leaving.
{Reference: “First liberation, then education.” Political slogan of the ruling party.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sans People
Will you let me have a glimpse of people?
People on the streets? People sauntering by, people smiling.
People intending to take a right turn,
Suddenly changed the mind and took to the left.
People across the meadows,
Past the shops, cinemas, theatres, Opera houses,
People racing down, people in the cars, bus, tram, train.
How I wish to have a glimpse of them, the procession of people!
Will you let me have a glimpse of them-
Men, women and children in the houses?
Am I to live only with the fluky glimpse of a strip of cloud
Or the streak of sun, penetrating through the chinks of my window?
People, they said are barred out,
I've to live the rest of my life sans people.
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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Lieing Through Their Teeth
Giving up a smile or two,
Does not end a feud...
One begins.
Nor is a joker without a seriousness,
Worth a fist to lift.
Giving up a smile or two,
May work best for children...
Teasing each other after school.
But to think it's okay to lie just to do,
Seems so foolish to hear those who do it.
Some people can't seem to live a life,
Without a lieing through their teeth.
Some people.
Some people.
Some people do what they do,
To disturb another's peace.
Some people.
Some people.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
Giving up a smile or two,
Does not end a feud...
One begins.
Nor is a joker without a seriousness,
Worth a fist to lift.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
Some people can't seem to live a life,
Without a lieing through their teeth.
Some people.
Some people.
Some people do what they do,
To disturb another's peace.
Some people.
Some people.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
Some people do what they do,
To disturb another's peace.
Some people.
Some people.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
Giving up a smile or two,
May work best for children...
Teasing each other after school.
But to think it's okay to lie just to do,
Seems so foolish to hear those who do it.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
Some people can't seem to live a life,
Without a lieing through their teeth.
Some people.
Some people.
Some people do what they do,
To disturb another's peace.
Some people.
Some people.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
Some people can't seem to live a life,
Without a lieing through their teeth.
Some people.
Some people.
And the same people doing it,
Love the doing it of this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hated Shadows
Happy people
with happy faces
Do happy things
in happy places
Little to worry
little to care
Never are sorry
never are there
Through the Viel they live
they cannot see
people around them
people like me
People Invisible
people Divisible
We are not important to happy people
we do not exist
broken shadows of broken people
Happines Glows
Shadows can not exist
With their happy lives
their happy husbands and happy wives
their happy bars
their happy cars
they shine brite
like stars
The shadows
look onto the light with envy
knowing they cannot co-exist
feel hopeless
lost
sedentary
singular
Hated.
poem by Jon Trahan
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War Vets Dream
When he came from Nam he had a plan
That not many people would understand.
To help children see that not all in life
Was destruction and poverty.
With death and bombings all around
All he could hear was the children s sounds.
With tears in their eyes and not understanding why
Why so many bodies on the ground
And not a one making a sound.
All he could see was these faces of despair
Children did not understand and could not care.
These visions of the war would
always stay in his mind
From that day forward till the end of time.
He vowed that he would do all that he can
To help all children and his fellow man.
When you see the ravages of war
And a country torn apart
And its people scattered
Then staying alive is all that matters.
He knew that he could not stop this genocide
But he knew for the future children he had to try.
He wanted to create a place called “children s world”
A safe haven for every boy and girl.
A place where children could be children
And war they would not see.
Where they could be with friends and their families.
A place with a roof over their heads
Hot food and a bed.
He knows with time this dream will come true
“It just depends on people like you.”
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Streets
The gaudy glow of neon lights
dispels the darkness of the nights
on city streets.
They pop and fizzle noisily
creating a cacophony
on city streets.
The sober folks walk warily
and drunks stagger uncaringly
on city streets.
The ladies of the night parade
for there is money to be made
on city streets.
Drug dealers ready to retreat
if they should hear a coppers feet
on city streets.
The night shift workers wend their way
towards their work to start their day
on city streets.
The noisy revellers thin out
as one by one the signs go out
on city streets.
The gradually noises abate
and ghostly shadow congregate
on city streets.
For some few hours peace will reign
before the noise will start again
on city streets.
The early morning traffic sounds
start with the milkmen on their rounds
on city streets.
This builds up to an angry roar
as cars and lorries inward pour
on city streets
then when at last rush hour has passed
noise levels will subside at last
on city streets
I thank the lord that I am free
to leave this noise far behind me
on city streets.
I walked my beat the whole night
through exactly as I’m paid to do
on city streets.
I choose to live outside the town
where constant noise won’t get me down
on city streets.
My village is a quiet place
A haven where I need not face
the noisy streets.
8-Jun-07
poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bus ride at night
At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.
There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.
We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.
At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.
There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.
The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.
In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.
At Church square I see stars in the sky,
but uncle Paul looks friendly
while the lights
of a few cars passes by
and I see how his men
are protecting him
and there’s nobody else in the street
and I wonder what to do
if the last bus has already left.
I wait at night at a bus stop
and an old black man
comes and stand near me
and we are both glad,
to catch a ride
on the last bus.
The bus is lighted brightly
And it’s comfortable and hot inside
and I see the zoo passing by
just before the bus stops for me
and red lights
disappears in the distance
and the evening wind tugs at my jacket,
but my house is near.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Church Street, Pretoria
Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.
On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.
People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Asome Poem About PEOPLE
Some people
Care about you, some people
Don’t care,
Make fun of you and walk away,
Some people,
Run past, some people
Hand you presents,
Give you a pat on the back,
Some people
You love, some people
You don’t know
Some people, some people,
You do,
Some people
You notice, some people
Eat cauliflower, some people
Are teenagers,
Some people walk to restaurants,
Sit down at the counter,
Eat there food, through it at
People,
Some people never notice you,
Some people always look, some people
Want to take you away, some people
Will never exist
Some people are other people; some people are you, some people
Die ever second,
Some people are you
poem by Annie Nosich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let the children read
People are waiting for the King
To safe broken heart and safe life
People who are busy to erase their sin
But some people still searching
How to manage this difficult life
The rest are trying to help poor people
I am an ordinary people
Who has an ordinary heart
I don't have power to save this world
But i want to learn to care
Because i realize i live not for this world
I live for the next step with my King
If it is possible
I want to help many children around me
Who feel hunger of education
but do not have money
I wish i can get scholarship one day
But, when i see those little children
Better, if i can help them
Teach them
Make them read
So they will know science and the truth
I hope... i can help myself first
So, i can help them and my family
Because children deserve to have education
Children should have many dreams
Children should feel safe
No more tears to this world for them
The city has a deadly wound
The city has a deadly wound
and on the street without a place to go,
sits an old man and his old wife
and their small white dog.
I see a blonde girl watching cars,
to buy a piece of bread
and her face tells that she has problems
and I wonder how she washes
the dirt of the road from herself?
a Red haired guy sleeps in boxes on the sidewalk
and at a traffic light there’s children that sniffs glue.
At another traffic light
there’s a couple with a baby,
that stands in the hot sun
and is dependant on motorists for their fate.
Just before a traffic circle there’s a man
with short pants,
where day after day
he sells koeksisters.
a Man with dark glasses and a hat
strokes his guitar
chord after chord and sings sad songs
and I see that his hat is empty
where he is in a small alley
while minibus taxis hoot the whole time.
Taxes are getting higher
and everybody has to bare the brunt of it,
but the poor are on the street with their pain
and wait for the misery to pass
like flowers trying to blossom in a desert
and they are surprised and scarred by life
and wait in vain for a place in the sun.
[Koeksisters=> a Baked delicacy with syrup in it.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Dwellers
With their faces all lined and weather beaten,
It could be days since these folk have last eaten.
These city dwellers; these rough sleeping rovers,
Have resorted to searching rubbish bins for leftovers.
Through the city streets, they aimlessly roam;
Sometimes asking people for the bus fare home.
Refused money, some will swear in your face;
The streets can seem such a threatening place.
Some of them don’t exactly turn on the charm,
When they ask for money, and grab your arm.
Some smile, courteously, bidding you a good day,
Despite things not having quite gone their way.
Some attempt to stop people passing them by,
But most people still do, however hard they try.
Asking for spare change, they repeat their plea;
Some, passers-by, purposely, choose not to see.
They may sleep in a shop doorway, or under a bridge,
Where the temperature is often as cold as a fridge.
The days and nights seem to go on for almost ever,
Especially during the cold and wet, wintry weather.
These people are all different; they are not all the same.
Some are uneducated; some have letters after their name.
Some of them are outgoing, while others are very shy;
Some of them are trustworthy, while others are very sly.
We know very little about these people’s past lives;
They may have left behind children, husbands or wives.
This group of individuals are so unique and so diverse,
But, for them, their living conditions could not be worse.
All they need is someone to give them a second chance;
Someone who gives them more than just a second glance.
Nobody lives their life on the streets, purely by choice.
It is time that they were listened to, and given a voice.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Ones For The Children
This is a very serious message so all of you please listen.
There are some people living in this world
They have no food to eat
They have no place to go
But we all are gods children
Weve got to learn to love one another
Just remember, they could be us
Remember, we all are brothers
Im not trying to darken up your day
But help others in need
And show them theres a better way
This ones for the children
The children of the world
This ones for the children
May God keep them in his throne
Many people are happy
And many people are sad
Some people have many things
That others can only wish they had
So for the sake of the children
Show them loves the only way to go
cause they are tomorrow and people, theyve got to know
Im not trying to darken up your day
But help others in need
And show them theres a better way
This ones for the children
The children of the world
This ones for the children
May God keep them in his throne
This ones for the children
The children of the world
This ones for the children
May God keep them in his throne
song performed by by New Kids On The Block
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeless Childrens Covenant
So much bad news- about children being abused.
What kind of thoughts can go thru a molesters mind
Don’t they know they’ll be caught with time.
Do you know how many children have run away
Because in their house they could not stay.
At the time they think that the streets are their escape
But they don’t know that predators sit and wait.
They offer you food, a roof, and a bed to sleep
Once they get you - you’re in trouble deep.
They will tell you that you have no value, no worth
You’ve never been loved since your birth.
They’ll tell you that the only thing that you can do
Is give a sexual favor or two.
You have no money- no food
Just the clothes on your back
Against you the cards have been stacked.
No education and no place to live
What can you offer- what do you have to give.
They’ll say anything to get control
They want to own you body and soul.
Go to your local churches, or the YMCA
If they can’t help you, they’ll recommend a way.
There are places that you can go
Where they can help you- more than you know.
One of these is called “COVENANT HOUSE”
Helping boys and girls of all ages
Knowing each child has gone thru different stages.
A roof, a bed, food to eat
You can finally get off the streets.
They can help you turn your life around
And no more being put to the ground.
Giving you self respect, and it gets better yet.
A place where there is love abound
This is the place that many have found.
Many had to get out of an abusive family situation
But the streets is not your salvation.
There are kids younger than you
What do you think they’ve gone through.
Use the strength and knowledge
that you have gained
To help others of the same.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Yonge Street
See the people walkin up and down
See the people movin all around
On the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Longest street in the world they say
Summertime soon slips away
I hope Ill see you one fine day on yonge street
Everywhere you go in a city by the lake
Back there in the flow you may give a hand a shake
Everyone you pass seems to wanna say hello
Even late at night on the freshly fallen snow
See the children jumpin all around
See the parents looking up and down
Upon the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Its a mean street if you choose
Its a lean street when you lose
An in-between street when you cruise on yonge street
Everywhere you go in a city by the lake
Youll be sure and find its a case of give and take
Everyone you pass seems to want to say hello
Even late at night when the streets are all aglow
Its the longest street in the world
With the most feet in the world
Another street where boy meets girl on yonge street
See the people walkin up and down
See the people movin all around
Those are the streets of my hometown on yonge street
Everywhere you walk people almost say hello
Even late at night when the streets are all aglow
On yonge street
On yonge street
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lives In The Balance
Ive been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear
You might ask what it takes to remember
When you know that youve seen it before
Where a government lies to a people
And a country is drifting to war
And theres a shadow on the faces
Of the men who send the guns
To the wars that are fought in places
Where their business interest runs
On the radio talk shows and the t.v.
You hear one thing again and again
How the u.s.a. stands for freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend
But who are the ones that we call our friends--
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who finally cant take any more
And they pick up a gun or a brick or a stone
There are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire
Theres a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we cant even say the names
They sell us the president the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But theyre never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some People
Some people seem to have it all
Some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused
Some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people pray before they kill
Some people kill just for the thrill
Some people follow one mans vision, some others die on television
Some people build their homes on sand, some people live in garbage cans
Some people think that live is dear, some people hope the end is near
Some people fight for right to life, some people hate to stay alive
Some people dream of life on mars, some people end their life in cars
Some people throw their lives away, some others go on holidays
Some people live and love in vain, some people dont and go insane
Some people always need to win, some other people love to sin
Some people breaking all their vows, some people slashing sacred cows
Some people like to worship stars, some people think the worlds a farce
Some people try to make ends meet, some others end up kissing feet
Some people find their holy grail, some other people go to hell
Some people never catch their breath, some people drink themselves to death
Some people seem to have it all, some people always have to crawl
Some people pay to be abused, some people end up destitute
Some people search their souls for truth
Some people try to be of use
Some people
!
Gold/ocean/1994
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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