Little Slice of America
To be american, What does that really mean? I sit here in a Mcdonalds with the smell of sewage burning my nostrils making me nauseated as the stentch mixes with the smell of greasy burgers. I watch as a homeless man begs everyone who walks in, for change. I give him what I can spare. I watch as my fellow americans stuff their faces with processed fast food, all with tired faces. And on the T.V. there is talk about a revolutionary war rising in Syria. We sit here in the little busy Mcdonalds eating fat and sugar shaped in the form of what is passed as food while watching a war, people dead on the streets of a less fortunate country. We are exactly what other countries think of us even though we swear we are not. and I admit I am part of it... We are americans.
poem by Jeremy Rascon
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Philadelphia Revised
The sad images of Philadelphia popped out of my eyes today
And I could see the streets of Philadelphia where the homeless sleeps
And freeze to death
While Politicians, doctors, Dentists, lawyers, teachers, and nurses get rich
Day by day
But the homeless freeze to death in the streets of Philadelphia and even die
But I have to ask all of you fellow americans where is your heart?
And doesn't charity starts at home first?
Don't you have anything at home that you could give away to the Homeless so they could have something either to wear or to eat?
Why can't we feed the homeless?
I can't understand you fellow Americans?
Please put yourself in their shoes for a day and try to picture what do they Have to go throw everyday
Is it right for the homeless to sleep in the streets and freeze and eventualy Die in the streets of Philadelphia?
Would you fellow Americans go few days without eating?
I don't think so
Why should the homeless that lives in the streets of Philadelphia starve?
Fellow Americans it is time to think about others and not just yourself Because others live In America just like you
Fellow Americans do you have a heart?
Fellow Americans did you ever learned to share what you have with Others?
Fellow Americans America is a sad world because we waste 98% of our Food at home, restaurants, and supermarkets
And all that wasted food ends up in the dump
It is so ashame and so sad at the same time
But the truth is that we are running out of food
And there is not enough food to feed anyone in America
But the cost of food keeps going up
Because we have to pay the American farmers who plants the food and Transport the food to the supermarkets
poem by Aldo Kraas
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No Way No Way Blues
I am not rich
And I can't afford to feed all the homeless in Toronto
But there is food banks that they can go and get some food to eat
So that they do'n t starve
But the homeless instead of going to the food bank they stay in the streets
Of home and begs for money at the streets of home
But I don't give money because I know that they are not going to use it for Food but they will use it to buy alcohol and destroy their liver in no Time
What ashame
And for that I say no way no way
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Awakening Americans
We watch movies of murder and we censor the breast
Give thanks for the murders of Chris Columbus
We kill our own and we vote for the men
The lesser of evils and us starring the role of victim
I wonder how we change if we can in this land
I wonder how many mountains we'd move if we bent together
Us priveleged Americans
We pass our revisions onto the next generation
We kneel to the Gods of corporation
We eat when we're full and we hoard all the rest
With our hands on remotes we say "Yes, We're the best"
I wonder what we change in this land, cause we can
Even with western centricity this rampant
Us ugly Americans
Tired are not my hands
But see strangers and enemies as part of me, is real.
For me this awakening Canadian
We teach our offspring for themselves, every man
We shrug shoulders and create yet another -ism
We dissuade our young from using their imagination
We avert our eyes from this our very own manifestation
I wonder what will change in this land, cause we can
I wonder how many mouths we'd fill if we band together
Us awakening Americans
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like Smells
i like smells...
woodsmoke, and food,
black coffee in the morning.
the smell of rain,
of mud, of wetness.
the smell of the walls
of the cave, of the stone,
of the moss...
the smell of sex, of arousal,
of a woman's neck.
the smell of pine needles,
of an old house,
of fresh turned earth...
the smell of old books,
of old dogs, of shadows
without form...
i've even become accustomed
to the smell of death!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Black And White! (Spirits And Flesh)
black and white,
not different kinds of souls,
merely skin tints!
Americans, and Middle
Eastern people,
worship...
not different gods,
but different understandings
of the same god!
and common people,
all around the world,
have worked too long,
for too little,
are tired of being numbers,
numbers without faces!
tired on being enslaved,
being treated as possessions....
for they have faces!
faces with hearts,
hearts with spirits,
spirits made of flesh!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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It seems that American patriotism measures itself against an outcast group. The right Americans are the right Americans because they're not like the wrong Americans, who are not really Americans.
quote by Eric Hobsbawm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fast Food Hell
Everyday I am forced to sell,
Fast food in this fast food hell,
Greasy burgers with ingredients unknown,
I’m behind the grimy counter, all alone.
Little kids with whiny voices,
Line up for the kid meal choices,
Soccer moms with mini vans,
Men with ‘blackberries, “Look no hands! ”
Everyone from everywhere,
They all come to jeer and stare,
At I, the unfortunate employee,
Trapped in burger hell, and never free.
poem by Amity Willows
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050811H ants among us
i stand up and give them food
some took it but much of them
they wanted me out of their way
i have to crash some that bit me
acid bites are painful and itchy
red ants are very fierce, territorial
gatherers of leaves, shoots, sugar
food train is so busy infinitesimal
everybody has job, no smoke break
am their enemy even i give them food
maybe i'm different, it was fear i know
so as other people over that plateau
poem by Manonton Dalan
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My Brother Julian.
my brother julian is weird,
but hes not one to be feared,
burgers and fries is all he eats,
loves video games
but he always cheats,
sleeps all night sleeps all day,
he goes to church but i never heard him pray,
but his nose is special it could smell food a mile away,
he gets crazy and physco thats why i call him violent j,
he loves food like they aint no tommorow,
he eats so fast i sometimes wonder if he swallowed,
hes always first in line to order,
hes favorite food is the ultimate cheeseburger,
hes cool but mostly rude,
but show him your food and violent j will druel.
1/05/2008
Copyright ©2009 Jose Murguia
poem by Jose Murguia
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Hard To Swallow
We eat to live
We eat to grow
We eat to endulge ourselves,
In the greatness of food
We eat to provide comfort
We eat to be accepted
We eat as it is part,
Of our lives
Food comes in all different forms,
Shapes and sizes
It can be a bean as small as a nail
Or a christmas turkey the size of a horse
Food is a necessity
Food is a way of life
Food is enjoyed
Food is loved
But for some,
Food is despised
Eating brings pain
Eating brings weight
Eating brings illness
Eating brings hate
Eating means endless pain
A pain that wont stop,
Until the food inside,
Is forced out
Eating means weight gain and hurt
So,
It's best not to eat at all
The aching pain of hunger drifts away,
With several ibuprofein.
The battle with food is a constant struggle
To overcome the eating disorder
To take one bite,
And Swallow!
poem by Chris jones
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I am Not Homeless
I am not homeless
there is a number on my door
a room mate cat quilt desk sofa
spray bottles under the sink.
I am not homeless
on the train initiated
showing a monthly ticket to the guard
I am not homeless
at my desk in the office
expected to talk beg
bring in the business
give them the business
business as usual or get the hell out
I am not homeless
in a world of obligation
scrambling to pay rent
electricity gas oil phone commutation
food food food
I am not homeless —
unless I am expected
to feel at home.
poem by J. Barrett Wolf
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Get people back into the kitchen and combat the trend toward processed food and fast food.
quote by Andrew Weil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching The World Go Past
I sit on the front step
Just watching the world go past
People walking
People talking
I see people running from themselves
People walking their best friends
Children playing with others hearts
Teenage girls crying over the past
I just and watch the sun set
Signalling that a new day will begin soon
I watch the rising of the moon
And the dots getting ever so brighter
Watch people fall in love
People smile as if nothings wrong
I watch all the people who have nothing to do
Watching people who have nothing to loose
I sit and watch the different lives form
Watching the new scene starting
The new lives beginning with a smile
The lives coming to and end
I sit on the front step
Just watching the world go past
People walking
People talking
poem by Lesley Bass
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Faces
Key:-a - anita r - ray
A: look around you
What do those faces tell you?
R: faces, joy and pain
A: faces
All around different faces I see
Some are happy, some in misery
They express joy and pain
No two faces are the same.
R: people, people all over town
Some of them are poor and others wear a crown
Ive seen alot of many faces
Joy and pain in different places
Open your mind, set yourself free
Figure it out, what could it be?
Sympathise, understand
Give love and peace to the other fellow man
A: faces
R: faces, joy and pain
A: look around you
Do you see those faces
What do those faces tell you
A: everywhere I go, different faces I see
A: faces
All around different faces I see
Some are happy, some in misery
They express joy and pain
No two faces are the same.
R: playing with your life, playing with your soul
You all scream out Im the one in control
Killing of the colours, silly stupid games
You know who you are without no names
Dont mess the world cause that the sequal
Open your mind cause we talking about the people
In the world, all kind of places
Different races, different faces
A: different faces
Everywhere
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gertrude Stein is interviewed on American poetry
and there was the knocking on the door
that we were expecting
and it was the man
that we were expecting
with the questions we were expecting
to which answers were expected
by those who expect answers
as if life were like that
which for writers it is not
yes, tea was drunk
and after tea the tape recorder set up
so that what I said
I would continue to say
somewhere else
even when I changed my mind
here and nowhere else
and he said Ms Stein
what do you think of American poetry
and we said well it's American
and it's poetry
that's as it should be
and really that's all there is to say
and the man looked disappointed
so we asked him did he read poetry
and he said poetry no I dont read poetry
but my editor does
so I said it's really about Americans
living their lives
that's what American poetry is really about
because Americans move around
and so their words move around and
words in English have lost their intensity
but American words are always on the move
and they are more intense
yes, Americans living among Americans
and talking to their neighbours
if it's not about that
it's not really American poetry at all is it
if it's not about that
then why bother writing poetry
and the man was asking about a rose
being a rose being a rose and we said
for a hundred years the rose
has not been red in poetry
but now for the first time in a hundred years
the rose is red again
and the man looked at his watch
and said thank you Ms Stein
and was switching off his tape recorder
and a month later that
was what we said
in a magazine much read
by Americans who mostly
are not poets no very few but we said it
we know that this is so
because we read it there
and we think that really
that was all there was to say
because that was all we think
is really important
about American Poetry
that the words move like Americans move
and that is exciting for a writer
and that is the important thing about
American Poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Gerbil Poem
Gerbils so soft with fur
Hold them untill they purr
Put them in a cage a wheel and watch them go
They dig their borrows in the morning light
And hut fo food in the dead of night
they jump around like a kangarro
to get away from being something elses food
a hole a tunnel a burrow and more
will give them a place in which food they can store
give them a wheel and watch them go round
you will laugh and smile instead of a frown
show them the love and a friendship will start
hold them and cradle them close to your heart
poem by Lyndcey Jordheim
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Hope for a new tomorrow
I saw it in the faces
of homeless people
standing around drums,
with glowing coals
trying to get hot
at red-hot flames.
I saw it on the faces
of people living in villages
in a war zone,
that went forth with their lives
as if the war didn’t exist.
Still I wonder when
the new morning is coming
and every day,
I watch the horizon
and look at the blue sky above me
to see if You
do not appear on the clouds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Native Indian Feast
feathers on their heads wet
canvass canopy start to drip
drums chant to heaven's part
trinkets hand made in tepees
find their way in small cases
where few bucks gets you piece
clouds not kind to lowlanders
it keeps on pouring for hours
dancers huddle beneath with me
their faces aren't that happy
food wagon cooking food, sweet
burgers, hot dogs good to eat
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Right Here, Right Now!
when we buy clothes made in sweatshop conditions
in Asian countries, or elsewhere, because they're
cheaper, we are in fact supporting human rights abuse.
when we buy oil from Arab countries that oppress and
abuse their own people, and regulate women to 'second-
class slavery', we are a part of that oppression.
when we throw away or waste food while children
around the world are starving, we become the cause
of that hunger.
when we drive big suv's and trucks that get less than 15
miles to the gallon, we are the driving force behind the oil
spills!
when we sell away our own people's job's for a bigger profit
overseas, we become the victims of our own greed.
you say we cant fix everything, how can we be responsible?
our country gives more aid than anyone....
we give aid to the countries we profit from.
if we took the money we spent bombing other countries
into submission, and then rebuilding them... and spent it
instead on food and medicine and training for the impoverished...
would we not get a better return? would the rest of the world
hate us as much as it does now?
we are individually responsible for every choice we make, and it's
result! what we eat, what we wear, what we drive, who we vote
for, and whether we vote! ... what we watch on tv, what we read,
whether we take the time to help our neighbors when they need it
(cause believe me your turn will come, it does for all of us) ...
whether we do what we say, whether we give without asking
for anything back...
whether we stand up for education and equality and moral fairness...
and it all begins with being aware, being aware of our responsibility.
we all make mistakes, i've made more than my share... but i'm willing
to get up and try again and again... and to get involved.
it begins right here, right now!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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