The Southern Pulpit
The Southern pulpit, in our eyes,
Descends to make a compromise
With evil things in heaven's name;
The kind that brings a blush of shame.
The evils to the Negro shown,
His rights that Southern men disown,
We view with sorrow and distress,
Its lack of effort to suppress.
Prevailing thought it cannot cross,
If so, it feels financial loss;
The gold to it is dearer far,
Than all the rights of Negroes are.
It preached that slavery was right,
Upon the Scripture based its fight,
Why should we now expect a change
So radical? Such would be strange.
This pulpit fails to higher climb
Than sentiment at any time.
Such grades of preaching cannot live,
The truth alone can freedom give.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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The Southern Press
When a Negro comes in question you may watch the Southern press,
See how bias its opinions, how his ills are given stress,
Prominence is given headlines, when accused he is of crime,
Emphasizes all the evils of the Negro ev'ry time.
If a white man comes in question you may watch the press again,
How its dignity it loses in a compromise with sin,
Down in some secluded corner you the story may behold,
Where the public may not find it, sadly there the tale is told.
It condemns the sins of Negroes which in white men 'twill excuse,
If a Negro's crime is grievous here's the heading it will use:
'He's a candidate for lynching,' in a type that's bold and plain,
If a heinous crime's committed by a white man, 'he's insane.'
When the Negroes prove their manhood and their homes protection give,
They're pronounced as desperadoes and too desperate to live,
Nothing like its ever published of a white man, though his case
May be ten times more revolting and far deeper the disgrace.
At some public place if Negroes are mistreated by the whites,
When policemen won't arrest them or defend a Negro's rights,
Though the proof is overwhelming and the public ear it gains.
How conspicuous the silence that the Southern press maintains.
When a good is done by Negroes of the same you will not hear,
With their ills the press is busy and the good cannot appear,
Wrong, if found upon a Negro, will be charged up to the race,
But if white, with him 'tis ended, brings his people no disgrace.
See! the Southern press is bowing to a god that's made of gold!
And the populace is crying in a way that's passing bold,
'It must run to suit our fancy or the gold we'll take away!'
So the press can rise no higher than the common people say.
Humbleness will be exalted, exaltation be abased,
To the press it sounds a warning blest humility to taste.
Exaltation in a measure waves its banner over all,
But such pride will bring destruction, haughty spirits bring a fall.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Immorality
Have you heard, my friend, the slander that the Negro has to face?
Immorality, the grossest, has been charged up to his race.
Listen, listen to my story, as I now proceed to tell
Of conditions in the Southland, where the mass of Negroes dwell.
Ev'ry city, town or county, ev'ry state on Southern soil,
Has mulattoes in its borders, found among the sons of toil.
Can you tell from whence they landed; or to whither shall they go?
Is the Negro race responsible alone, I'd like to know?
When a man among the Negroes is the least suspected there
Of an intimate relation with a daughter that is fair,
Then an angry mob arises and he answers for the same
In a death, the worst in cruelty the company can name.
Though the noonday sun is shining at the time the lynching's done,
Still the officers of justice can't detect a single one,
Who partook in Negro killing, for the deed no one is blamed,
And inside the nation's senate comes a voice, 'We're not ashamed.'
Is the same true when a white man leads a Negro girl astray?
When he takes away her virtue, is the same true? tell me, pray,
Do the press and pulpit clamor or condemn the mighty wrong?
Is there sentiment against it? is the burden of my song.
When the case is thus presented, they are silent as the grave,
And the law at once is powerless a Negro's name to save,
So you see the same continues and the truth is like a flood,
That in veins of Southern Negroes flow the best of Southern blood.
Can you tell of these mulattoes, did they fall here from the sky?
How is this that they're among us? can you tell the reason why?
Who's to blame for their existence? is the Negro race alone?
If there are such freaks in nature it is time to make them known.
'Tis a custom born of slavery when master's law and might,
Was enforced upon the bondsman without question of the right,
And the parson preached on Sunday how the servant should obey
All the mandates of the master, let them be whate'er they may.
O, how sad the tales of bondage when persuasive measures failed,
How they tortured Negro women till their hellish plans prevailed!
Women faithful to their virtue were as martyrs sent to rest,
Others yielded to the tempter, weary, helpless and distressed.
So the spirit lives at present for the master hand to rule,
Cook or washer, nurse or housemaid passes through this training school,
Lo! the greatest of temptations, men and devils there invent,
And present them to the servants, on their ruin so intent.
There's no friend to whom the dusky maiden can appeal for aid,
To the mistress of the home to speak of such she is afraid,
In the law there's no protection that a Negro girl can claim,
None to rescue, none to pity, so she enters into shame.
Now reflect for just a moment, in the light of what you see,
Which is worse, to yield the tempter or the evil one to be?
Can you still believe that Negroes are immoral more than whites?
O, how different the picture if the Negro had his rights!
There's a God who rules in justice, one who feels his children's pain,
So we know that sin and darkness cannot always hope to reign,
All the ills to Negro women will the Father bring to light,
For the Judge, the only Judge of all creation will do right.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Prejudice
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
'Tis blind to all that's lofty, yea, to truth it is opposed,
Degrading things will ope his eyes, while good will keep them closed.
How cruel, too, is prejudice! how wicked is the tongue!
The evils reign supremely there, the bad is ever sung;
With some the Negro needs a soul, with others he's a brute,
In silence those remaining live and naught of this dispute.
The schools it legislates against, in keeping Negroes down,
Whatever tends to elevate it meets it with a frown.
It gives to them the Jim Crow car and vessels on the sea;
It makes the stockade to exist and take their liberty.
It makes the press to vacillate up the Negro's name,
The pulpit makes a compromise with evil, for the same,
It makes the Pharaohs of today and seals them with its ban,
It strives to close the door of hope upon the Negro man.
It causes mobs to formulate, to come and go at will,
At morning, evening, noon or night, a Negro man to kill,
It brings injustice to the courts when Negro men are tried,
It wrings the ballot from their hands—a thousand wrongs beside.
It is the country's greatest curse, the nation's open sore,
It slowly saps the precious life, is poison to the core,
Such ravages gave certain death to nations in the past,
The same will lay this country low, its fondest hopes will blast.
It minimizes all that's good and magnifies the ill,
The devil's mission upon earth, it clamors to fulfill;
'Twas prejudice that caused the death of Christ upon the tree,
He knows the pangs that Negroes feel and gives them sympathy.
When men refuse to see the light a darkness is assured,
Such blindness comes upon the scene as never can be cured!
Contagious is the dread disease, for Negroes learn to view
The white man with suspicious eyes, but here's a thing that's new.
The Negro Problem of the land, and all the same entails,
Will be no more whene'er we find a sentiment prevails,
To bury prejudice so deep it never can arise
Till all the races of the earth shall meet above the skies.
Twas God who made the Negro black, the reasons are His own
One blood the nations all the same, the facts are too well known,
He also made the Golden Rule, to use the neighbor well,
Shall prejudice among us dwell forever? who can tell?
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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On The Flag Of The Southern Cross
On the flagpost in the freshening winds the flag of the Southern Cross
That brave workers once fought under does flap and wave and toss
In Ballarat in Australia where history was made
For their rights brave men died fighting at the Eureka Stockade
The Southern Cross above where they fought in the southern winds did blow
There history was created one hundred and fifty four years ago
The happening at Ballarat became known of Worldwide
Some of the miners who fought the Government troops were badly injured and some even died
For workers rights in Ballarat the price in human blood was paid
For the rights of a fair go it did not seem a fair trade
Each time I see the flag of the Southern Cross Ballarat comes to mind
The miners there who fought for workers rights were of the bravest kind
That great flag has a history for historians to recall
It surely stands for workers rights and a fair go for all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Get Up, Stand Up
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: dont give up the fight!
Preacherman, dont tell me,
Heaven is under the earth.
I know you dont know
What life is really worth.
Its not all that glitters is gold;
alf the story has never been told:
So now you see the light, eh!
Stand up for your rights. come on!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: dont give up the fight!
Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up: dont give up the fight!
Most people think,
Great God will come from the skies,
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high.
But if you know what life is worth,
You will look for yours on earth:
And now you see the light,
You stand up for your rights. jah!
Get up, stand up! (jah, jah!)
Stand up for your rights! (oh-hoo!)
Get up, stand up! (get up, stand up!)
Dont give up the fight! (life is your right!)
Get up, stand up! (so we cant give up the fight!)
Stand up for your rights! (lord, lord!)
Get up, stand up! (keep on struggling on!)
Dont give up the fight! (yeah!)
We sick an tired of-a your ism-skism game -
Dyin n goin to heaven in-a jesus name, lord.
We know when we understand:
Almighty God is a living man.
You can fool some people sometimes,
But you cant fool all the people all the time.
So now we see the light (what you gonna do? ),
We gonna stand up for our rights! (yeah, yeah, yeah!)
So you better:
Get up, stand up! (in the morning! git it up!)
Stand up for your rights! (stand up for our rights!)
Get up, stand up!
Dont give up the fight! (dont give it up, dont give it up!)
Get up, stand up! (get up, stand up!)
Stand up for your rights! (get up, stand up!)
Get up, stand up! ( ... )
Dont give up the fight! (get up, stand up!)
Get up, stand up! ( ... )
Stand up for your rights!
Get up, stand up!
Dont give up the fight! /fadeout/
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Injustice of the Courts
Whites alone upon the jury in a number of the states,
Thus they crush a helpless Negro with their prejudicial hates;
Legal ills they thrust upon him, and the tale is passing sad—
Equal rights with white men? Never! Color-phobia makes them mad.
'Tis the training of the children, every Negro to suppress,
They their spleen may vent upon him and he happy, none the less,
They will boast aloud in anger if by Negroes they are crossed,
'If we shoot or kill a Negro, not a cent will be the cost.'
Juries represent the people and their sentiments make known,
When a Negro comes in question there's discrimination shown.
They are bold to make assertion that they will not do the same
For a Negro as a white man, and no feeling comes of shame.
Jurymen have made confession after trial had been made
Of a Negro, and 'He's guilty!' was the verdict there displayed.
Stern remorse so touched the conscience, they the story did relate,
How the verdict they had rendered was to stay the dying fate.
'It was hard to say him guilty, for the man, we thought, was clear.
But a mob was making clamors that were terrible to hear.'
'Punishment or death!' it shouted, and around began to press;
And of two impending evils, we have chosen him the less.
Thus we legalized the lynchers, we their words to court have brought,
And the innocent convicted! how revolting is the thought!
When a mob has forced a jury to a stand against the right,
All the waters of the ocean cannot make the conscience white.
Once a Negro girl was saucy, and the wife the husband told,
Who in haste arraigned the servant and began to swear and scold.
Then he whipped her without mercy—straightway she to law applied.
Passing strange—they found him guilty, and the judge was sorely tried.
This he said, in making sentence, 'No disfavor comes to you,
You have only done as others, or as I myself would do,
If your servants vex the mistress, thrash them out again, I say,
Go to jail ten minutes only, and a fine of five cents pay!'
If a judge is conscientious, then the people vote him out,
His partiality to white men they must know, beyond a doubt.
No equality for Negroes in the law the world must know,
If he fails to make distinctions, from the bench they'll have him go.
Page 45
This injustice is a cancer, in the nation's breast it lives,
Quietly and unmolested, awful is the death it gives.
It results from color-phobia, which the God of right defies,
Slaves of prejudice, take warning! pause before the nation dies.
All the land is running riot, laws are trampled in the face,
Negroes must be law-abiding; whites alone the laws debase.
Wrong upon itself is coiling, hissing serpent of the times,
Whites in self-defense are crying, 'Shield us from our people's crimes.'
Barbarism fills the country, all for safety take alarm,
From the lowest to the highest, no one now is free from harm;
Anarchy is rife among us, all resulting from the same,
Gross injustice of the court-room brings the nation into shame.
Page 46
Lawlessness is at a premium, woeful penalty it brings,
Relic of the middle ages is the present state of things.
To the winds we now are sowing, and the whirl-wind comes at length,
Evils cast upon the waters come again with added strength.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Negro Ballot
Can America be reckoned as the country of the free?
In the light of recent actions 'tis a truth that's hard to see.
It has taken from the Negro his protection, yea, his vote,
How oppressive is the finger that such cruel mandates wrote!
'Equal rights are not for Negroes; they shall never have a vote,
To supremacy of white man shall be raised the highest note.
Keep the black man from the ballot and we'll treat him as we please,
With no means for his protection, we will rule with perfect ease.'
Those are words of Southern white men, backed, it seems, by all the land,
From the blacks they'll take the ballot, with their rights on every hand;
O, the maladministration in enforcement of the ills,
Thus they re-enslave the Negro till their cup of evil fills.
When appeal is made to Congress for protection of a race,
They will promptly dodge the issue, saying,'This is not the place;
In the courts alone there's power to decide it for a fact,'
'We evade it,' says the court-room, 'Congress has the power to act.'
So when Negroes cry for justice in this commonwealth of ours,
There is none to give an answer, none to regulate the powers,
Congress claims no jurisdiction, and the courts declare the same,
None in all this Christian nation who will face the load of shame.
More than all the host of Egypt or the Canaanites of old,
Were the Jews when God was captain of the army, we are told.
Stronger than the ancient mountain of the waters of the sea,
Nature hastened to the rescue, making all opposers flee.
Though Elisha, when at Dothan, was encompassed round about,
By the forces of Benhadad, as he put the Jews to rout,
His protection came from heaven in the chariots of fire,
Yea, the angels and the horses told the earth of heaven's ire.
When for God and fight we battle, numbers cannot make a mark,
For while countless millions perished, eight were saved in Noah's ark.
'Twas the faithful few, my readers, who were found on holy ground,
That were saved, while all remaining in the raging flood were drowned.
Tell me not of shame or failure in a just and righteous cause,
For the right at length will triumph in the face of wicked laws,
Heaven still extends protection to the weakened and oppressed,
Who will cry to God for succor and relief when sore distressed.
Yea, the angel still encampeth round about when Christians fear,
To deliver them from evil and their souls to fill with cheer.
With the faith of ancient Hebrews should the Negro of today,
Ask the Maker for the ballot, and with courage wend his way.
If a fervent prayer is offered by a race ten million strong,
Telling of discrimination, persecution, hate, and wrong,
God will hasten to the rescue and the ballot will restore,
And reclaim for Negro manhood, equal justice evermore.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im A Southern Man
Tony joe white
Send me a pan of corn bread with some turnip greens on the side
And if you really want to mess with my head give me anything southern fried
Give me some faded blue jeans and a pair of old cowboy boots
And Im gonna tell you where I come from tell you somethin about my roots
Im a southern man, Im a southern man,
Im a southern man, (spoken) Im a southern man
Send me a woman to love me with a lot of meat on her bones
Theres something about a big lady I just cant leave em alone
Id like to take her down to the river go skinny dippin in the night
Aint nothin like being with my lady and makin love in the pale moon light
Cause Im a southern man, a hah ah Im a southern man, Im a southern
Man, southern man, Im a southern man
Give me that soulful music it sure makes me feel so nice
So I can do the alligator and get it on every saturday night
Give me that southern comfort, give me annie greensprings wine
Take me on down to the bayou and Ill sure have a real good time
Im a southern man repeated many times to end
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sign Of The Southern Cross
If there isnt light when no one sees
Then how can I know what you might believe?
A story told that cant be real
Somehow must reflect the truth we feel, yeah
Fade away, fade away
Vanish into small
Fade away, fade away
Break the crystal ball - oh!
Its the sign
Feels like the time!
On a small world, west of wonder
Somwhere, nowhere all
Theres a rainbow that will shimmer
When the summer falls
If an echo darts in dancer
When it hears a certain song
Then the beast is free to wander
But never is seen around
And its the sign of the southern cross
Its the sign of the southern cross
All right
Sail away
To the sign
Ohh
From the book, the word is spoken
Whispers from forgotten psalms
Gather all around the young ones
They will make us strong
Reach above your dreams of pleasure
Given life to those who died
Look beyond your own horizons
Sail the ship of signs
And its the sign of the southern cross
Its the sign of the southern cross
Fade away, fade away
Break the crystal ball
Fade away, fade away
I cant accept it anymore
On a real world, west of wonder
Somwhere, nowhere all
Theres a rainbow, see it shimmer
When the summer falls
From the book, the word is spoken
Whispers from forgotten psalms
Gather all around the young ones
They will make us strong!
Its the sign of the southern cross
Its the sign of the southern cross
Dont live for pleasure
Make life your treasure
Fade away!
Eight miles high, about to fall
And no one there to catch you
Look for the sign, the time
The sign of the southern cross, yeah
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Southern Comfort
Right next door to the airport,
an hour from baton rouge.
There's a City on the Delta
where they love to sing the blues.
A lady there I'm certain
she can make a man of you. Yeah.
There's a pretty little crucifix
that hangs above her bed.
The bottle she holds sacred
cause it helps her to forget
But Jesus saves and liquor knows
that don't pay the rent.
She knows what you're lookin' for
And she can give to you.
And the mirror is an enemy.
It never tells the truth.
It used to be a good friend
that she never thought she'd lose.
Till it captured all over her innocence
and stole away her youth. Yeah.
All right.
She knows what you're lookin' for
and she can give it to you.
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort.
Oh, you'll be back for more
and with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free.
A little southern comfort's all you need.
Oh its all you need.
And a thousand people have walked your stairs
to knock upon your door
each one brand new cross to bare
each one harder than the one before
and I, bet you wished for something else
I bet you wished for a whole lot more
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort,
Ooh you'll be back for more, and
with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free
a little southern comfort's all you need.
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Southern Comfort
Right next door to the airport,
an hour from baton rouge.
There's a City on the Delta
where they love to sing the blues.
A lady there I'm certain
she can make a man of you. Yeah.
There's a pretty little crucifix
that hangs above her bed.
The bottle she holds sacred
cause it helps her to forget
But Jesus saves and liquor knows
that don't pay the rent.
She knows what you're lookin' for
And she can give to you.
And the mirror is an enemy.
It never tells the truth.
It used to be a good friend
that she never thought she'd lose.
Till it captured all over her innocence
and stole away her youth. Yeah.
All right.
She knows what you're lookin' for
and she can give it to you.
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort.
Oh, you'll be back for more
and with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free.
A little southern comfort's all you need.
Oh its all you need.
And a thousand people have walked your stairs
to knock upon your door
each one brand new cross to bare
each one harder than the one before
and I, bet you wished for something else
I bet you wished for a whole lot more
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort,
Ooh you'll be back for more, and
with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free
a little southern comfort's all you need.
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jim Crow Cars
If within the cruel Southland you have chanced to take a ride,
You the Jim Crow cars have noticed, how they crush a Negro's pride,
How he pays a first class passage and a second class receives,
Gets the worst accommodations ev'ry friend of truth believes.
'Tis the rule that all conductors, in the service of the train,
Practice gross discriminations on the Negro—such is plain—
If a drunkard is a white man, at his mercy Negroes are,
Legalized humiliation is the Negro Jim Crow car.
'Tis a license given white men, they may go just where they please,
In the white man's car or Negro's will they move with perfect ease,
If complaint is made by Negroes the conductor will go out
Till the whites are through carousing, then he shows himself about.
They will often raise a riot, butcher up the Negroes there,
Unmolested will they quarrel, use their pistols,rant and swear,
They will smoke among the ladies though offensive the cigar;
'Tis the place to drink their whiskey, in the Negro Jim Crow car.
If a Negro shows resistance to his treatment by a tough,
At some station he's arrested for the same, though not enough,
He is thrashed or lynched or tortured as will please the demon's rage,
Mobbed, of course, by 'unknown parties,' thus is closed the darkened page.
If a lunatic is carried, white or black, it is the same,
Or a criminal is taken to the prison-house in shame,
In the Negro car he's ushered with the sheriff at his side,
Out of deference for white men in their car he scorns to ride.
We despise a Negro's manhood, says the Southland, and expect,
All supremacy for white men—black men's rights we'll not protect,
This the Negro bears with patience for the nation bows to might,
Wrong has borne aloft its colors disregarding what is right.
This is called a Christian nation, but we fail to understand,
How the teachings of the Bible can with such a system band;
Purest love that knows no evil can alone the story tell,
How to banish such abuses, how to treat a neighbor well.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Ballade Of The Southern Cross
Fair islands of the silver fleece,
Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold,
Whose havens are the haunts of Peace,
Whose boys are in our quarrel bold;
OUR bolt is shot, our tale is told,
Our ship of state in storms may toss,
But ye are young if we are old,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
Ay, WE must dwindle and decrease,
Such fates the ruthless years unfold;
And yet we shall not wholly cease,
We shall not perish unconsoled;
Nay, still shall Freedom keep her hold
Within the sea's inviolate fosse,
And boast her sons of English mould,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
All empires tumble--Rome and Greece -
Their swords are rust, their altars cold!
For us, the Children of the Seas,
Who ruled where'er the waves have rolled,
For us, in Fortune's books enscrolled,
I read no runes of hopeless loss;
Nor--while YE last--our knell is tolled,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
ENVOY.
Britannia, when thy hearth's a-cold,
When o'er thy grave has grown the moss,
Still Rule Australia shall be trolled
In Islands of the Southern Cross!
poem by Andrew Lang
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How Low Can Traditions Sink?
Is he a hypocrite?
Another self righteous sleaze,
To be known to victimize boys...
With compelling sermons,
Preached from a pulpit.
Or...
Is he just another demon,
Philosophing life with hymns and scriptures.
And using standards long now ditched,
Into cesspools where the wicked become enriched.
And with a knowledge of this...
Give glorious performances as expected.
But when they leave people pleased,
They crawl back into their holes...
Where others like them remove their pretentions.
By disrobing from a slickness...
To do things discreet, down-low and unmentioned.
Is he a hypocrite?
Another self righteous sleaze,
To be known to victimize boys...
With compelling sermons,
Preached from a pulpit?
What do you think?
How low can traditions sink?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Negro Schools
Please be silent now, my country, while I fill the speaker's place;
While I point out some abuses that we constantly embrace,
Listen with your best attention to the words that I shall say,
How the Negro schools are managed, in this Commonwealth today.
All the officers are white men and together they conspire,
To undo the schools for Negroes, of such deeds they never tire;
Oft we find among the trustees men who cannot read a word,
But when speaking of the Negro, they are certain to be heard.
Education for the Negro they discourage, and they say,
'It will bring dissatisfaction to such people ev'ry day,
Make them crave for something higher, such as white men should enjoy,
Which will spoil the other Negroes that we have in our employ.'
Shorter terms are recommended many times as low as two
Are the months to Negroes given, in a year—now this is true,
Longer terms the whites are given in the same communities—
They conform to such a standard of the right with perfect ease.
Poorer pay to Negro teachers, driving good ones from the field,
Schools are let to lowest bidders to the same they're forced to yield,
Higher pay and better teachers for the white schools is the cry.
While encouragement is given Negro schools to starve and die.
Rural libraries established for the whites on ev'ry side,
But when application's made for Negro schools it is denied,
Thus they deal with education for the mass of Negro youth,
Posing still as great exponents and conservers of the truth.
From the sword of fierce Goliath we may all a lesson learn,
How while planning death to others on your head it may return,
In regard to schools for Negroes, cease their welfare to neglect,
For the same will come upon you in a way you least expect.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Me A Cause To Fight For
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it as long as the cause is worthy and just
As long as the cause it does not entail violence or secrecy that does lead to mistrust
As long as the cause is of benefit to others like the forgotten children of the lesser god
Poor refugees who flee from war and famine the Stateless and the homeless and downtrod.
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it though not in any violent way I'll fight
On Human Rights one never should stay silent to live free of persecution should be everybody's right
Even in some so called Democratic Countries political prisoners are being tortured and subjected to the worst of mental as well as physical abuse
All crimes against humanity are abhorrent and for them there cannot be an excuse.
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it as it should be every Human Being's right to live free
Of religious and racial discrimination and of hunger, Homelessness and poverty
We often hear in post war propaganda they have their freedom now that the war is won
But those who say such things never realize that freedom never does come through the barrel of a gun.
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it though I'll fight the fight with words and words alone
I am not without sin I am just a sinner so I won't be the first to cast the stone
In this so called age of enlightenment people's Human Rights upon are still trampled and bad things happen behind the prison wall
So give me a cause to fight for and I'll fight for it I will speak out for a fair go for all.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dont You Think It's Time?
children have rights,
women have rights.
lovers have rights.
people of all religions,
and even atheists have rights.
people of all colors,
speaking every language have rights.
trees and rivers have rights.
cats and dogs have rights.
cattle have rights,
homeless people have rights.
prisoners have rights.
democrats and republicans have rights,
even socialists have rights.
the jobless have rights,
old people have rights...
and the hungry have
the right to be fed!
damnit! dont you think it's time?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truth is the silliest thing under the sun. Try to get a living by the Truth and go to the Soup Societies. Heavens! Let any clergyman try to preach the Truth from its very stronghold, the pulpit, and they would ride him out of his church on his own pulpit bannister.
quote by Herman Melville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Northern Wind
There is a wind, my billy, and its awful strong
Come for you, and anyone whos helped you along.
But I want to live, live, live and let the stars shine bright
Yes, I want to live, live, live and let it on alright
And when that bird sings from over that silver wall
I dont want to fight it, billy, cause I want to go
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
And with this gun goes everything I want to say
Not for you, but for anyone who takes it away
Let it fill his life, life, life until theres nothing left
Let it kill his wife, wife, wife until he goes to bed
And when that bird sings from over that silver wall
I dont want to fight it, billy, cause I want to go
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
Theres a northern wind, billy, blowin up a southern change
And a northern wind really makin me feel kinda strange
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Equal Rights,2011
equal rights to live,
equal rights to love.
equal rights to believe,
to speak out, to stand up
and be counted.
equal rights to work,
equal rights to study.
equal rights to build.
equal rights to profess faith,
equal rights to pray.
equal rights to give...
equal rights to live,
equal rights to love!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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