Moolah
Some earn it, some steal it,
some lust for it like muff.
Others work hard for hours
earning barely enough.
The lucky, with Trust funds,
have got it to spare.
Others anxiously hope
Grandma’s will named them heir.
Some guys on the Street
Take risks with brass balls.
Then live like royal dukes
in baronial halls.
In the evenings some Ladies
Will stroll on the street
Accepting donations
for sausage relief.
The government types
Have got it the best
They skim off the top
And distribute the rest.
These green little rectangles
With the Presidents’ faces-
They help us keep score
And keep us all in our places.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Street Of Hope
Today I found hope in the street of hope
Because I was looking for hope for such a long time
But I never found until today
And I still have the feeling that I was looking in the wrong places for hope
But maybe I was comfused before
Or afraid to make a move to the street of hope
To find hope
But I learnsomething that you have to go that extra mile to get where you Want to go
But sacrifices have to be made
Now that I found hope in the street of hope I can be more relaxed
I know what I was hopping for
I was hopping to move to the street of hope
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead End Street
Theres a crack up in the ceiling,
And the kitchen sink is leaking.
Out of work and got no money,
A sunday joint of bread and honey.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No money coming in,
The rent collectors knocking, trying to get in.
We are strictly second class,
We dont understand,
(dead end!)
Why we should be on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are living on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
On a cold and frosty morning,
Wipe my eyes and stop me yawning.
And my feet are nearly frozen,
Boil the tea and put some toast on.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No chance to emigrate,
Im deep in debt and now its much too late.
We both want to work so hard,
We cant get the chance,
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Head to my feet (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Street
On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
On the street
O, O, On the street
[Everybody dance]
[Watch for the difference]
On the street
{Breaking on broadway]
O, O, On the street
[Shaking on sunset strip]
On the street
[Like nobody booming supporting that]
Da, da, da, da, da ...
On the street
On the street
Dancing
On the street
On the street
Dancing
Dancing
On the street
On the street
[Twisting on the turnpipe]
Dancing
On the street
On the street
On the street ...
Da, da, da, da, ...
Dance on the street ...
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beggarliness
The cats march on to the backyard
Of my house and leave their kitten,
taking it for a safe haven.
When I come upon a dog
lying beside the walls of the school,
with its pups rolling over it,
I buy biscuits from a shop
and feed them with grace.
When the rats pluck up courage
to hold jamborees in the porch,
I don’t beat them or drive them out
fearing to be infected with rat-fever.
But I put coleslaw for them to eat.
When little lamps jump into my office room,
and let down their balls of dung,
I smile, lift them up and give them
to the girls of lower classes.
When I see beggars lame or blind,
I touch the coins in my pocket
but hesitate to give them;
as most of them tell tales of lies.
They get freebies from the Government
yet their list swells in trains and public places.
Some who run private homes to orphans
send the inmates to beg in streets
But they beg from cinestars and the rich
with a printed receipt book in hand.
The old ones plead starvation
and go on cheating pliable public.
Some ladies and the differently -abled
roam to beg with letters in trains and buses.
Some criminals appeal for alms with appalling faces.
Terrorists too beg from the rich and cinestars
and demand donations without giving receipts.
Fake sages and seers receive funds from abroad
to frustrate the addicts from drugs
and the men and women garbless to meditate in halls.
When the beggars blockmail me
and curse me to have a dog’s life,
how can I purse my lips and refuse alms?
----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I came to live in Sophia Street
I came to live in Sophia Street,
In a little house in Sophia Street
With an inch of floor
Between door and door
And a yard you'd measure in children's feet.
When I'd been ten days in Sophia Street
I remembered its name was Wisdom Street;
For I'd learned much more
Than in all the score
Of years I clamoured for books to eat.
poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting For The Man
D. mccafferty/p. agnew/d. sweet/m. charlton
Cruisin on down to my street corner
Where me and my friends hang out
Im pickin up billy along the way
Man he knows what its all about
Jed knows some chicks that can be had
Hes got his old mans car
You know that cant be bad
Phil just got numbered in a fight
But we all jumped in now ol phils alright
Hangin out together on the street
Lookin so hot we cant be beat
Keepin so cool when we get hassled
Takin our time to move along
And if youre lookin to start some trouble
Man you dont know what youre takin on
Me and billy all the guys
Fat marie with the friendly eyes
She aint so pretty but, ooh my my my
Street corner people waitin for the man
Just me and billy and all the guys
Fat marie with the friendly eyes
She aint so pretty but, ooh my my my
Street corner people, were waitin for the man
Shootin our job to the local ladies
Showin them such a good time
Drinkin our wine and gettin crazy
And movin on down the line
Just me and billy, all the guys
Fat marie with the friendly eyes
She aint so pretty but, ooh my my my
Were just street corner people waitin for the man
Me and billy, all the guys
Fat marie with the friendly eyes
She aint so pretty but, ooh my my my
Street corner people waitin for the man
Were just street corner people
Were waitin for the man
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work
Work is what we have to do
to put food on the table
we work for years and years
that is until we are unable.
We are asked at school
what we want to be?
I remember telling the teacher
that I want to play football for Coventry.
There's all types of work to do
like in an office or a building site
if your lucky you can do sport
be a Boxer and get paid to fight.
But most of us don't do that
and often we do jobs that we hate
like working in a horrible factory
starting early and finishing late.
But some workers love their jobs
and rarely ever miss a day
they enjoy being there so much
they'd probably work for no pay.
Work is a big part of life
so best do something you like
earn vast amounts of money
buy a flash car instead of a bike.
So be happy wherever you work
no matter what job that may be
but most of us want to retire early
that's why we keep on doing the lottery!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nature's Fury
Disturbing images,
Ravaged faces.
Pain and grief,
Loss and disbelief.
Hopeless and helpless,
No sense to the madness.
Millions swept
By furious waves.
Ministers flew
To take an aerial view.
And assess
The damage.
And appeal to the nation
To make liberal donations.
To raise funds for relief
Of the bereaved
Which never reach
Those in need.
Greed of man doesn’t lose any opportunity,
To make fortune out of a calamity.
Funds are sabotaged,
These hapless people still have courage,
Out of the rubble they rise bravely
From scratch rebuild their lives stoically.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Aussie Baseball Bat
You steal from me
a hundred years
of hard fought rights
and you've got the balls
to think
on election day
I'm gunna turn the other cheek
and not throw you bums
out in the street.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out In The Street
Put on your best dress baby
And darlin, fix your hair up right
Cause theres a party, honey
Way down beneath the neon lights
All day youve been working that hard line
Now tonight youre gonna have a good time
I work five days a week girl
Loading crates down on the dock
I take my hard earned money
And meet my girl down on the block
And monday when the foreman calls time
Ive already got friday on my mind
When that whistle blows
Girl, Im down the street
Im home, Im out of my work clothes
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When Im out in the street
When Im out in the street
When Im out in the street, girl
Well, I never feel alone
When Im out in the street, girl
In the crowd I feel at home
The black and whites they cruise by
And they watch us from the corner of their eye
But there aint no doubt girl, down here
We aint gonna take what theyre handing out
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
Baby, out in the street I dont feel sad or blue
Baby, out in the street Ill be waiting for you
When the whistle blows
Girl, Im down the street
Im home, Im out of my work clothes
When Im out in the street
I walk the way I wanna walk
When Im out in the street
I talk the way I wanna talk
When Im out in the street
Pretty girls, theyre all passing by
When Im out in the street
From the corner, we give them the eye
Baby, out in the street I just feel all right
Meet me out in the street, little girl, tonight
Meet me out in the street
Meet me out in the street
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Same Street
Written by don gibson.
I still live on the same street,that we lived on.
The same old street,where memories were made on.
I shouldnt stay,why dont I go? .
Each day hurts a little more.
It wont be the same street anymore, since youve gone.
It wont be the same street anymore.
Each day I walk alone,where we once walked before.
See all familiar places, where we talked before.
But I cant run,from memories.
Theyre mine and they belong to me.
It wont be the same street anymore.since youve gone.
It wont be the same street anymore.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Education – The Beat of the Street
It’s the beat of the street that we need in this nation
If you want to tell the kids; go get an education
You’ll have to show ’em it’s a sort of salvation
From the me-now lifestyle that just craves titillation
On sleazy easy street; it’s a sad situation
For they moan that work and college don’t bring much motivation
And it’s not just a matter of mass communication
To appeal to bored teenagers of this generation
It’s the beat of the street you’ll need in preparation
To get across your message in this no-hope nation
Shouting it louder won’t cause the creation
Of a change of mind for a new determination:
You just risk creating apathetic alienation,
So tell ’em it’s a source of self-preservation,
That a word’s like a blade to solve a situation
If you use it skilfully with deft discrimination
That cuts down an enemy without aggravation
And settles the score without recrimination
And perhaps you won’t be met with cold condemnation
And the youth will engage with fresh participation
If the beat of the street can be their education.
Yes, the beat of the street can be their education;
The beat of the street must be their education.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Rabbi Kook's Street
On Rabbi Kook's Street
I walk without this good man--
A streiml he wore for prayer
A silk top hat he wore to govern,
fly in the wind of the dead
above me, float on the water
of my dreams.
I come to the Street of Prophets--there are none.
And the Street of Ethiopians--there are a few. I'm
looking for a place for you to live after me
padding your solitary nest for you,
setting up the place of my pain with the sweat of my brow
examining the road on which you'll return
and the window of your room, the gaping wound,
between closed and opened, between light and dark.
There are smells of baking from inside the shanty,
there's a shop where they distribute Bibles free,
free, free. More than one prophet
has left this tangle of lanes
while everything topples above him and he becomes someone else.
On Rabbi Kook's street I walk
--your bed on my back like a cross--
though it's hard to believe
a woman's bed will become the symbol of a new religion.
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Boogie
Walkin? down on main street
Well, its not the same street like before
Those drinks that Ive been drinkin? were stirred not shaken, ooh its sore
My legs have gone all weak
Its so hard for me to speak anymore
I must get home to bed
And rest my aching head, thats for sure
Drivin? in the country
The grass is green as it was before
Rolled up on that river
Just aint as clean thats for sure
You know my legs have gone all weak
Its so hard for me to speak anymore
I must get home to bed
And rest my aching head, thats for sure
Goin? down to main street to buy some wine
Make some love with that woman of mine
Drink some wine
Love some time
Ah- walkin? down on main street
Well its not the same street like before
Those drinks that Ive been drinkin? were stirred not shaken, ooh its sore
You know my legs have gone all weak
Its so hard for me to speak anymore
Well I must get home to bed
Rest my aching head and thats for sure
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lust for Love
This is a message to all the guys
Who need to get a clue and realize
Theirs a four letter word that starts with the letter “L”
That all guys know really well
And it’s called lust
Going after slutty girls This goes out to all the guys
even though her looks will soon rust
And lust is not love
You all know what I’m speaking of
And you know what the saddest part?
Guys think with their d**k not their heart
Choose the girl that will love you forever and be faithful
Guys don’t get mad I’m just trying to be helpful
Don’t go for the over the top flirt
That’s in high heels and a mini skirt
Go for the one that’s always there for you
Her love will always be true
I feel like my head is going to combust
Please take my word and trust
Finally to sum this all up cuz explaining this I’m tired of
Boys love for lust, Girls lust for love
poem by Cynthia Fino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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GREEN, A Litany
green in the midst of drab desolation
green ‘til the tide in the street overflows
green that preserves green's green reputation
green behind curtains, like cellist & bow
green on occasions no green is permissible
green by inversion a negative flame
green in final disgrace & dismissal
green where the gravedigger shoulders his spade
green like the walls of Verlaine's Belgium prison
green woods, wolf & poet meeting on equal foot
green like embroidery on old smoking-jackets
covered with needlepoint dragons & soot
green like a murderer gone to the guillotine
green like the lawns of this land breaking through
our windows in herbicide frenzy to taunt us
green like the tarnish on brass tiger shoes
green the result of choice or of chance
green when the famished, the hopeful despair
green that we have no hope of outguessing
green for which always we must be prepared
poem by Jay Mandeville
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Sunrise Sign Missing
Now I used to live on the Avenue
named Sunrise-
The avenue's sign has gone missing
which is a surprise.
Only the people who already
know of this street—
can find their way to it
without a map of it on a sheet.
Is this sign a trophy on a wall somewhere?
Is this a sign that the street itself is invisible
to the sun's glare?
Sunrise is still the street I used to live—
it is the last name to my poet's alias.
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rectangles
Many a day she played with my rectangles.
Wishing to pick them up,
And lay them upon her breasts.
She said they supplied her with energy.
To me they were perfect angles...
I made into rectangles.
Many a day she played with my rectangles.
And asked if I would make her a few.
They weren't made out of plastic,
Or of anything that would last.
They were just rectangles I drew on paper...
Whenever I was bored,
And wishing for her ass to grasp!
I told her that!
And she would laugh and laugh.
They were just rectangles.
And before she touched them...
They were headed for the trash!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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At Potter’s field
The Government runs free health care-
for veterans of our foreign wars.
Their philosophy of care is sly-
Delay, deny and hope they die.
There are veterans by the score-
Wounded in our bootless wars-
Now Shelter bound or on the street
With potter’s field their next retreat.
If Government can thus ride rough
On those who fell defending us.-
What's their plan for you and I?
Delay, deny and hope we die.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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