Scent of democracy! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
A homeless woman squatted on the pavement
Empty bottle of mineral water by her side.
It was a hot summer noon …the stench
Of poverty makes me ashamed as I ride,
The swanky metro. Brooding… get off at my station,
Impatiently, walk as the street urchins extend hands to beg,
For money, for food; wonder should I buy rations
With dismay, saw one was hopping, had only one leg.
Anger welled up against the mafia that maims these kids,
And trains them in art of begging, recognise the victims.
The so called slum dogs, with resignation and grit
Grow into petty thieves or whores, at the mercy of pimps.
The dance of Democracy reaches a crescendo.
Candidates come with promises and folded hands.
Smouldering eyes, one asked with bravado,
How come in the name of growth we see a helipad?
Young nation, been six decades, since independent,
Learnt, after Kosi floods, kids sold for pennies by parents.
Common man’s plight worse than that of pigs and insects.
Live on hope and prayers, a great leader will finally resurrect…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Related quotes
Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless
There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.
There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.
There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.
There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.
Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Bihar Floods 2008
Fed by the melting snows from Himalayas,
And seven tributaries through the year,
The river Kosi still remains untamed!
A giant ‘water-snake’ that moves side-wards,
Flooding the fields and washing off all huts –
A river that is annually ‘in spate’!
The ‘Kosi’ is the ‘sorrow of Bihar’!
A million people have lost huts and homes;
Many are stranded without shelter, food.
The plight of people is so pathetic;
The helicopters can rescue but few;
The food-packets don’t reach the hungry souls!
They blame a broken barrage near Nepal;
But embankments can’t stop the annual floods;
The river changed its course so many times!
O Indian, wake up to the neighbor’s call!
Share your mite to help the marooned people;
Your love of brethren should engulf your hearts!
O God, have mercy on the flood-hit state!
Recede the waters of Kosi in spate;
Rescue the victims and improve their fate!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 08-31-2008
poem by John Celes
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Our Destiny Is In Our Own Hands
Our destiny is in our own hands some have been known to say
But circumstance in all of that must have some part to play
If you are born on no hope street and homeless in your youth
To you our destiny is in our own hands does not have a ring of truth.
Our destiny is in our own hands to some may well apply
It may apply to you and he and her as well as I
But not of course to everyone each day thousands of hunger die
Our destiny is in our own hands to the millions is a lie.
The innocents who die in war and acts of terrorism did not create their destiny
They would not wish it on themselves for to die so tragically
Their destiny was in others hands which often is the case
They just happened at the wrong time for to be in the wrong place.
That our destiny is in our own hands apply to some maybe
But ninety nine per cent of street kids will die in poverty
Due to their circumstances of birth they are condemned to fail
And some of them die of drug overdoses and some of them die in jail.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Do They Come Clean?
at the end of the day,
when we wash our hands,
do they come clean?
homeless people, young girls
sold on the block,
hungry children, AIDS victims,
gotta watch your stocks.
black and white, brown and red,
gunfire and poverty;
kids afraid to go to school,
aint no profit in honesty.
SUV's, invaded countries,
oil doesnt buy liberty.
the takers take, the hurting weep,
at the cost of dignity.
politicians lie, preachers sell
narrow minded philosophies.
prisons full, bodies in the street,
the faces of reality.
smoke fills the air, oil fills the seas,
trade the future for the fix.
unemployed standing in line,
faceless numbers, brick upon brick.
close your door, shut your windows,
turn up the sound....
of anger, despair, and loss....
cries for help as they drown...
tell me....
at the end of the day,
when we wash our hands,
do they come clean?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Let's Go. Out.
Let's go out to the Melbourne show,
Said the kids to their mum, please let's go;
Then Mum says, and when shall we go there,
The kids just say as long as we go, we don't care.
They get ready, and go early that day,
Not caring how long, that they'll stay;
Soon they arrive, and go through the gate,
Maybey they'll leave when it's really late.
They see the rides, amusements too,
All sorts of drink, and junk food to chew;
They decide, to visit the side shows then,
Also the young scream, see the pigs in their pen.
Next; Mum decides her turn has come,
For the country women's cakes, would be fun;
All sorts or cakes, and art in glass around,
But please go quietly, Mum says not too much sound.
Now it's dad, he wants to go on a ride,
On the scenic train, with his kids at his side;
At the end of the rides, the kids feel sick,
Let's go get the showbags, and go home quick.
In the show bag pavilion, so many to buy,
Which ones shall we get, the little ones sigh;
Shall it be lollies or biscuits, and a toy show bag too,
Look, there's a great one,10 in one, is that true?
Just before they leave, to go home,
Mum says one is missing their on their own;
But soon they turn round, and there they are,
I only was wanting to go ride on that car.
Now time to go, we've all had so much fun,
Walking round the show, in the warm sun;
But now it's time to go home to bed,
Cause I've run out of money, the fun has come to an end.
poem by Margaret Haig
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The Courtroom Is Empty
the courtroom is empty,
the gavel untouched.
no hands on the book,
no jury of twelve.
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
small children killed, tossed in the trash,
women abused, old people hungry, alone.
young girls sold into slavery
young boys sold into war
homeless ghosts walk the halls,
without hope in man or God.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air
(and the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
an American tragedy,
or just human tragedy.
justice bought and sold,
afforded by just the few.
the wheels of Wall Street turn,
politicians barter with lives.
drinking the blood of the babies
that will never be born!
the takers keep taking,
and the honest man falls
to die nameless in the ditch,
covered by ashes and dust.
and there's no sound, no feeling,
not even a breath of air.
(the hands of the clock
have stopped!)
the courtroom is empty
poem by Eric Cockrell
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May God Help The Poor Children
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
He try to shield them from police the police no mercy show
And the glue sniffing children of the streets at their hands suffer so.
I watched a documentary on Guatemala the saddest I've seen for years
The crimes against the children moved hardened heart to tears
The police of Guatemala beat the street kids to death
How can men do such evil things and not live to regret? .
The street kids of Guatemala they know Bruce Harris well
He try to keep them from the streets from life of crime and hell
He try to shield them from police from cruel inhuman men
His is an uphill battle a battle hard to win.
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
And may God help the poor children such suffering they go through
And God bless all those who help them and God bless Bruce Harris too.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Need More Love And Understanding Of Others
We need more love and understanding of others in the World we live in today
Materialism and greed for money is the cause of spiritual decay
The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps widening and too many live in poverty
How can you feel love if you are hungry and homeless love doesn't bloom amongst penury
There are millions of angry people in the bigger World out there
And who can blame them for feeling unloved and of hope living in despair
They become poorer whilst a minority grow wealthier life on them is not very fair
Without food the body does not survive one cannot live entirely on air
The wealthy keep on getting wealthier money makes more money as some do say
The greed of some gives rise to poverty for others it does seem for to be this way
Some waste food the bounty of Nature whilst many don't have food to eat
The great gifts of love and understanding of others are strangers to poverty street
And the wealthy as ever growing wealthier in their case it is much wants more
In a World where millions are growing poorer the people we tend to ignore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Next Great War
the next great war
this country will face
will be a war within
it's own boundaries...
the stench of poverty and
injustice has become too foul...
the old, the homeless, the
forgotten ones have been pushed
too far, left with too little...
and the sound of righteous anger
rips through the air...
now the largest minority
is the common man and woman...
the faceless ones bought and sold,
and left to die on black and white tv's...
and the time has come
when there's no more taking
to be done.... unless, it's the
taking back, of our lives,
our country, and our freedom!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lines Of My Hands
are we really meant for each other?
let the lines of our hands grow mouths
let them speak about a reunion of hearts
do i see you once again holding hands
with your shadow? or was it me wrapping
my hands with water? or blinding my eyes
with what fairies use in their flights?
the stars of the zodiac, what are they
really talking about? about us? two lips
fusing a rose? promises grasping for
protocols? the jalousies are like tongues
begging for words, and the floors are
empty arms thirsting for an embrace.
the lines of my hands are ants drawing
a destiny. I look at all these, and where
they must all lead me. One furrows for
death, the other delineates for life.
I cup the water of life, and drink.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Slum Dance
I go out of my way today
Just so I can dance the slum dance
With the poor people that live in the slum
Because they love to dance the slum dance
With other people
And they get very excited when they have other people
To dance the slum dance with
There is a fine weather in the sky
Where the slum is
Also in the slum there is no clean water to drink
But they have no choice rather than to drink the dirty water full of flies And mosquitoes
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Poor Children
They are the future of humanity
But many of them living in poverty
And without shelter homeless on the street
Searching through rubbish bins for scraps of food to eat.
Poor children are victims of circumstance
In life they never really get a chance
Or have opportunities as privileged children do
The road from the poor suburb to prison leads them to.
From broken homes they are condemned to fail
Their abusive and drug addicted parents serving time in jail
Their parents too homeless in their teen years
On no hope street no laugther only tears.
The Government does not care about those who live in poverty
No political advantage in philanthropy do they see
Their tally men for them have taken note
That few in the poor suburb ever bother for to vote.
Poor children without homes and sleeping rough
And life for them already hard enough
At the wrong end of the social divide
Any chance of a good future to them is denied.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Jackies House
(chapin hartford)
Id put a liittle love note in a bottle throw it off the bay street
Bridge
Watch it glide along the willows
Id run along the bank with the other kids
If that bottle didnt hang up on the stones
It would ride that river with a will of its own
Itd go underground and come up in the crecek behind
Jackies house, jackies house
Id hang around until jackie came out
My hands would shake my heart would ache
I didnt know what is was but I first felt love
Behind jackies house
You could hear a pin drop in that parlor it was horsechair chairs and old
Lace
Jackie sat beside me like a statue
The other kids were out playing kidsgames
Those funny feelings strage and unknown
They would rise like the river with a will of their own
With the risk I took when I first stole a look into
Jackies eyes, jackies eyes
I saw forever like an endless sky
My hands would shake my heart would ache
I didnt know what is was but I first saw love
Behind jackies eyes
After all this time jackies hearts still mine
And the love keeps on flowing behind jackies house, oh ...
Now our little ones they laugh and run down by the creek in the summer
Sun
Jackies and me and the years agree
We know what it is, its love and it lives here
In jackies house oh and in jackies eyes
Oh in jackies heart and mine
song performed by by Trisha Yearwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Children Of Poverty Street
At least spare a thought for the children the children of Poverty Street
They are homeless as young teenagers and against the odds they must compete
Their parents serving time for robbery and narcotic offences and most of their role models in jail
Their circumstance of birth is a huge mark against them the poor young people destined to fail.
They steal for to buy food, drugs and alcohol on Poverty Street life is tough
Too young much too young to be homeless without shelter and sleeping rough
They are pushed to the social fringes the young people society disown
Ignored by the Government Bureaucracies and to the Police only known.
Who could envy them their existence those born into cruel circumstance
The Gods are completely against them of success they do not stand a chance
For them life is such a great battle they must battle their ghosts of despair
They don't even dream of the good life to them life is very unfair.
You who waffle on of life's choices with you talk is always so cheap
Bet you were not homeless at thirteen and on a park bench had to sleep
You would not talk of life's choices if you had to steal for to eat
If you felt alone and abandoned like the children of Poverty Street.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Say About Life
You say about life that life for all is fair
You must have been talking to a billionaire
You want to know about life go to Poverty Street
And those who are doing it hard there you will meet.
The homeless and down and outs doing it tough
Without food or shelter obliged to sleep rough
That life for all is fair is so easy to say
For one like you with a good job and great take home pay.
On your philosophies on life I for one don't agree
So why bother waste your time on talking to me
Since I believe life's only fair for a minority
And not for the poor billions in poverty.
Your opinions are your's and that suits me fine
But your views on life are quite different to mine
With a great job, new home and healthy kids and a beautiful young wife
You are not one to be saying of a fair for all life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Divisions
Millions for the Mafia! !
And of the chronicles of the wars around us;
But three men and a woman were found alone in the room last night,
And all the bacteria around produced more gas!
Willing,
Completely,
Command,
Divisions,
Abiding!
With a timber cutting machines to expose the forest,
But the young woman was very beautiful,
And the Mafia sold her for money!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Hey Young World Part 2
check one two
check one two
hey young world
check one two
check one two
young world young world
this track here may cause concern
for all ring leaders
why don't you listen and learn
love peace happiness once was strong
but due to society
even that's turned wrong
why?
don't be a dumb dummy
and disrespect mommy
why?
she put you on earth
and loved you since birth
and you
hey young world
the world is yours
hey young world
the world is yours
young world young world
young world young world
reward is a brainwashed kid gone wild
young little girls already have a child
bad company and now you've been framed
parents are hurting so hurted and ashamed
why?
hell lil kids don't follow these dopes
why?
don't be a fool like those who ditch school
it's yours
hey young world
the world is yours
hey young world
the world is yours
young world young world
get ahead
and accomplish things
you'll see the wonder and the joy life brings
don't admire thieves they don't admire you
their times are limited
and hardrocks too
listen be strong
and scream
woopie doo
go for yours
cause dreams come true
you'll make your mommy so proud of you too
and this is a message that the ruler rick threw
why?
(slick rick)
elders see our wise ones grow
interest in what their kid learned 'bout
seen how the offspring turned out
knowing you can now safeguard self
put upon an exciting path
you see immense pride they'll have
hey young world
the world is yours
hey young world
the world is yours
young world young world
don't discipline rule soundly
kids that we have lose boundaries
grow into what's called curse race lack independence
worst case imprisonment death near for
not what we brought kids here for
norals and values of sorts should be the first thing installed
believe it or not
god still shines on you
he guides you
and he watched you as you grew
stay out of trouble
when it comes insight
cause a man never loses a fight in god's sight
song performed by by Macy Gray from The ID
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slum Kids
Were just slum kids, and we know it,
And we never stood a chance.
We were dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
So how dare you criticize,
When you dont know what its like
To be dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
Why do rich kids get all the breaks,
While the poor slum kids have to work, sweat, struggle and slave?
Why, lord, theres so much injustice in this world?
Slum kids never stand a chance.
Look at all the slum kids all around you,
Oh, they never stood a chance.
We were dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
Why do rich kids get all the breaks,
While the poor slum kids have to work, sweat, struggle and slave?
Why, lord, theres so much injustice in this world?
Slum kids never stand a chance.
Look at all the slum kids all around you,
Oh, they never stood a chance.
We were dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
So how dare you criticize,
When you dont know what its like
To be dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slum Kids (take 1)
Were just slum kids, and we know it,
And we never stood a chance.
We were dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
So how dare you criticize,
When you dont know what its like
To be dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
Why do rich kids get all the breaks,
While the poor slum kids have to work, sweat, struggle and slave?
Why, lord, theres so much injustice in this world?
Slum kids never stand a chance.
Look at all the slum kids all around you,
Oh, they never stood a chance.
We were dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
Why do rich kids get all the breaks,
While the poor slum kids have to work, sweat, struggle and slave?
Why, lord, theres so much injustice in this world?
Slum kids never stand a chance.
Look at all the slum kids all around you,
Oh, they never stood a chance.
We were dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
So how dare you criticize,
When you dont know what its like
To be dragged up from the gutter,
From the wrong side of the tracks.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His eyes kept searching
He was a beggar
Sitting in the busy street
On the side of the fountain
Looking at the passersby
With hope and expectation
Waiting for somebody
To have pity on him
Shower some money
People glanced at him
Kept moving ahead
Without giving a penny to him
In the heart he cursed them
But did not fail to smile
When somebody
Came near to him
His begging container
Remained empty
Had to listen to sarcastic remarks
From morning till evening
He had no money
Nothing to eat
Sipping water from a bottle
With a hungry stomach
Kept praying to god
To send one soul
Who shall make his day?
Not go in vain
There was no pain
No despair on his face
It was many of those days
When he had to sleep hungry
Without letting his hope die
His eyes kept searching
For somebody
Who would give
Something in cash or kind
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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