On The Wheel Of Time
I am riding on the wheel of time,
Certainly my joy is not sublime,
When I look here and there,
I find peace nowhere,
Someone is suffering from starvation,
Someone is a victim of desperation,
War has ruined beautiful cities,
Somewhere Nature sent calamities,
Poor wretched with a life of gloom,
Waiting for the moment of their doom,
Poor children are reduced to skeleton,
Their misery is noticed by none,
While rich are playing with wealth,
They remain in the pink of health,
Their children take three meals with them,
Together they sing their glory anthem,
I curse the moment I rode on the time,
It was nothing but a senseless crime.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Poor Skeleton Steps Out
Poor skeleton steps out,
Dressed up in bad blood,
Bad brains, bad thoughts, and others deeds.
Poor skeleton no doubt,
One of these days,
You can cast aside your human, be free.
When the cities run with blood,
And you drink our health in mud,
All flesh be gone.
Save your dry and joyous shout,
For the day poor skeleton steps out.
Poor skeleton steps out,
Sprung from his life sentence,
Deep inside some muscle mask.
Poor skeleton devout,
Propping up truck drivers,
Filmstars, thieves or queens, your brave task.
When technology is rust,
And you write your book in dust,
All flesh be gone.
Cant buy tickets from a tout,
For the day poor skeleton steps out.
Poor skeleton steps out,
Liberated from sex organs,
And brown, black, white skin.
Poor skeleton you lout,
Dont you think that we might,
Like to have been asked to join in?
For good skeletons are we,
And were dying to be free,
All flesh be gone.
I will scream or sulk and pout,
Until my poor skeleton steps out.
Better watch out, here comes bony boy.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children Of The Poor
Children of the poor
ever since your birth
what is it you have known?
What is it you are worth?
You have felt hunger.
You have felt pain.
You are undernourished.
You've become the bane
of societal indifference
that's become the norm.
The wealthy shut their eyes, not seeing
the approaching storm,
The storm that's been brewing
like Katrina lashing out,
consuming all the misery
it has brought about.
Children of the poor
what difference does it make
that the children of the rich,
eating steak and cake
give no thought to all of you?
Their life is bountiful.
They take a sideward glance
and step back on their hill.
But hills can come a-crumbling
on this big old earth,
leveling out the playing field,
leveling out the worth
Children of the wealthy,
it is time you think
that the times that are coming
can change in a blink,
when all will be equal
as they look around.
The poor will inherit
and their worth will be found.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Remembering The Children
Let the children sing,
Let the children dance,
Let the children play,
In a safe and joyful way.
And teach them how to pray.
Let the children walk,
Let the children talk,
To friends, relatives, parents.
Show them all nature's wealth
Let them relate to its health.
Let the children work
At chores selected to fulfill
Full use of energies and will
To compete, to give and enact
The meaning of commitment.
Let the children read
Everything within their reach,
All the things that teach,
And when there's peace within
There'll be peace without.
poem by Hildred Marjorie Schloss
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Poverty
I saw an old cottage of clay,
And only of mud was the floor;
It was all falling into decay,
And the snow drifted in at the door.
Yet there a poor family dwelt,
In a hovel so dismal and rude;
And though gnawing hunger they felt,
They had not a morsel of food.
The children were crying for bread,
And to their poor mother they’d run;
‘Oh, give us some breakfast,’ they said,
Alas! their poor mother had none.
She viewed them with looks of despair,
She said (and I’m sure it was true),
‘’Tis not for myself that I care,
But, my poor little children, for you.’
O then, let the wealthy and gay
But see such a hovel as this,
That in a poor cottage of clay
They may know what true misery is.
And what I may have to bestow
I never will squander away,
While many poor people I know
Around me are wretched as they.
poem by Jane Taylor
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The Poor Children Of Iraq
They've never harmed anybody so why are they under attack
Born in the wrong Land at the wrong time the poor children of Iraq
For the crimes of other people why must they be made to pay
They are the innocent victims and why do it have to be this way?
Poor children are made to suffer pawns of a deadly war game
Left to live with horrific injuries this is to all of our shame
They have been robbed of a future war is so very unfair
Damage done to the minds of children in war zones time will not even repair,
Innocent Iraqi war children they deserve better than this
Why deprive them of a future rob them of any chance of happiness
Mothers weep for their dead and injured children war is a terrible thing
Though ballads of famous war victories the balladeers well may sing
But who will sing of the innocent war victims of every bombing and terrorist attack
Like the poor children living in war zones the innocent kids of Iraq.
poem by Francis Duggan
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21 - Victorian Poverty
A period of extreme poverty of the lower working classes
As they worked to the death the rich sat politely on their arses
London’s poor tried to scrape a living doing jobs the devil created
As the rich sat at their windows laughing at the pitiful souls they hated
The poor would have sooner died than enter the poor houses control
As it was not fit to harbor a single living human soul
Small boys were used to clean narrow sooted chimneys
While in the coal mines children worked on their hands and knees
Although this golden age pioneered many useful inventions
Children privileged to go to school were whipped instead of detentions
And as the poor worked for a life at every waking hour
The rich covered their stench with perfume and wild flowers
The poor had nothing and hardly anything to eat
While the rich enjoyed tea and honey and sherbet lemon sweets
In Victorian London the poor just lived and died
The rich never really noticed the rich never really cried
A period of extreme poverty of the lower working classes
As they worked to the death the rich sat politely on their asses
poem by Nicola Burkett
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The Miracle of a Moment
A week?
A day?
An hour?
Time enough
For excellence
A moment?
Too little!
Too swift!
Too short!
Too brief!
Not so
Not right
Not true
A moment?
It’s enough!
Pregnant with possibilities
A moment
Overflowing with opportunities
A Moment
Saturated with significance
A moment
Rich with reality
A moment
Bursting with beauty
A moment
Loaded with life
A moment
Encoded with eternity
A moment
Maximize every moment
poem by Howard Simon
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Winterwood
(mclean)
No one can take your place with me
And time has proven that Im right
Theres no place Id rather be
Than at your place for the night
No time can pass your sight unseen
No moment steals away unfound
Lifetime lived in such a dream
Floats like a feather to the ground
And for the first time Ive been seeing
The things Ive never noticed without you
And for the first time Im discovering
The things I used to treasure about you
Birds like leaves on winterwood
Sing hopeful songs on dismal days
Theyve learned to live life as they should
They are at peace with natures ways
You are as natural as the night
And all that springs from you is good
And the children born beneath your light
Are like the birds on winterwood
And for the first time Ive been seeing
The things Ive never noticed without you
And for the first time Im discovering
The things I used to treasure about you
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rich and Poor
In me a sense has felt like each,
One causes others to wonder of strange beliefs,
In a feeding are the poor,
Poor are the opposite of the Rich.
In this side of the valley,
The Rich are better at living,
In opposition to the laughter
Of the Poor.
Poor is not Rich,
And Rich carries no Wealth
Of Heavenly Times.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Rich & Poor; or Saint & Sinner
The poor man's sins are glaring;
In the face of ghostly warning
He is caught in the fact
Of an overt act---
Buying greens on a Sunday morning.
The rich man's sins are hidden
In the pomp of wealth and station;
And escape the sight
Of the children of light,
Who are wise in their generation.
The rich man has a kitchen,
And cooks to dress his dinner;
The poor who would roast
To the baker's must post,
And thus becomes a sinner.
The rich man has a cellar,
And a ready butler by him;
The poor man must steer
For his pint of beer
Where the saint can't choose but to spy him.
The rich man's painted windows
Hide the concerts of the quality;
The poor can but share
A crack'd fiddle in the air,
Which offends all sound morality.
The rich man is invisible
In the crowd of his gay society;
But the poor man's delight
Is a sore in the sight,
And a stench in the nose of piety.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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White Collar Crimes
social pathology;
poor are not prone
more to criminal
behavior honest
poor are bedrock
of moral society;
career options
notorious fleeting
crime benefits
white collar crimes
fancy lawyers
buy rich client
freedom Bell Curve
merry propaganda
Frankensteinism
blocks sewer pipes
H&M IQ thesis
non-white poor
discrimination
rhetoric evolved
to any race poor
laid off victim poor
stolen their houses
is not yet enough
greedy robber baron
rich must also steal
a hard poor workers
honour pride dignity
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Very Thing That Makes You Rich
My father told me, lying on his bed of death,
"boy," he says, "woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your self
'cause she's got something to make a man lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very thing that makes her rich will make you poor
The very thing that makes her rich will make you poor"
That's right!
Well, i put you behind the wheel of a deuce and a quarter, yes i did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter, yes i did, i sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Don't you never ever make such a bad mistake
You know i'd rather climb into bed with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing that makes you rich makes me poor,
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich makes me poor
The very thing that makes you rich make me poor
Very thing that makes you rich makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no...
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Might is right
It is always the fact that might is right
They will go on till the end to fight
They may do it with the speed of light
They have the wisdom and long sight
Small insects kill smaller one
Big also kill little one and go on
It is complete cycle of exploitation
Everybody looses in turn and in rotation
So if rich rule the scene then nothing wrong
Not all can be in race and come along
It is sheer coincidence that mighty rule
Otherwise not all the people are fool
Person with abundance can sustain losses
He may have no regret even if looses
This gives them little advantage
Rest all feel confined to cage
Once you are under domination you are bound to suffer
You may have no rights other than to differ
So poor remain poor and rich gets richer
Poor remain suppressed for times to come
Rich are dominating and always welcome
Corruption has engulfed poor and rich alike
Everybody is influenced and affected with hike
No one wants to remain as poor like
Rich too wants not to become poor and dislike
This is tendency that we feel pity for poor
We have seen them knocking the door
But it is the system that will remain forever
Even if God descends on earth it will be there
If you have same system with no discrimination
No one may work and develop alienation
They will feel free with passing of responsibility
Here comes then the end of clear and distinct ability
If you have system with loop holes anybody will escape
No one can restrict the temptation or put the cap
Only the poor fail to emerge for the want of resources
The powerful emerge and re-emerge with full force
The oppression part is little disturbing
No one can force or go on curbing
No one can be forced to undergo torture
Even God has made it very sure
The rich may have disliking for poor
Poor to may have tendency to show exit door
It has been clash of time for centuries and very old
No one can buy it or arguments can be sold
Lord may wish so for all His children
He may even grant the same blessing even
Yet that difference may remain and even if not
The needless wars might not have been fought
The human beings may create it to rule
They make use of all available tools
Rich may tackle poor and poor may tackle down trodden
As the system remains same with all the odds even
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Jesse James
When Jesse James was a lad
He killed many a man
And he roamed over the Scarsdale range
Robbin' from the rich
And givin' to the poor
He was dark and cold and full of rage
Oh yes he was, sing with me
Poor Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
And three children
They were oh so brave
But that dirty little coward
He went and shot Mr. Howard
Laid poor Jesse in his grave yeah
It was on a Saturday night
When Jesse was at home
Talking to old railroad Jed
Along come Robert Ford
Like a theif in the night
And he shot poor Jesse in the back
Poor Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
Three children
They were oh so brave
But that dirty little coward
He went and shot Mr. Howard
Laid poor Jesse in his grave yeah
He lays
Six feet under the ground
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Human Rights
If you were a child of a beggar
You would understand better what is human right.
It is normal to exist rich and poor people
Cause they are not equal from point of view of quality
But huge gap between the rich and the poor
Is the seed of hostility.
Please try to understand how a person feels
When he is hurt.
Why have you born? Why will you die?
Have you thought it over?
How much time is left for you?
Have you figured it out?
For us scarcity of time is more
Than that of wealth on earth!
Only kindness can bring peace on earth.
poem by Asif Andalib
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What children know (understand)
Children know laughter
They know tears
Children know peace
They know chaos
Children know acceptance
They know rejection
Children know joy
They know pain
Children know abundance
They know lack
Children know health
They know illness
Children know fulfillment
They know emptiness
Children know hope
They know dismay
Children know love
They know hatred
What they don’t know is WHY!
poem by Namie Elisha
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We Are The Children
We are the children of the sun
and the stars.
We are the children of the hippies,
who were strung out on peace and love,
and heroin when they conceived us.
We are the children of alcoholics,
conceived in blackouts.
We are the children of the punk rockers,
screwed into this world on beer and anger.
We are the children of the poor,
raised on welfare and food stamps,
and government housing.
We are the children of the middle class,
borrowing from the government to get a college degree,
to get a job with a pension from corporate amerika,
who has already fired our fathers and mothers,
before they could retire.
We are the children of the rich,
who, like our fathers and mothers before us,
care only about obtaining more wealth.
We are the children of the doctors, dentists,
and lawyers, who care more about their Porsches
and Mercedes than they do their patients.
We are the children of the American dream,
roaming the streets with a blanket,
and a garbage bag full of aluminum cans.
We are the children, who now have the children,
and we hope they won't learn racism from us,
like we learned it from our moms and dads.
We are the children who can change the inevitable,
alter our destiny, change the future from futile to
fruitful.
Amen.
poem by Mikel K Poet
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We Are The Children Of The World
(p. castro/m.a. kelly)
Waiting on the wings
On the wings of time
Wonder whats to come
And what we will find
Dancing on a dream
In the magic of our mind
Reaching for the sun
As long as it shines
Living day to day
While were on our way
Well find were already there
We are the children
We are the children
We are the children of the world
Underneath the blue
In a solitary light
Guiding by a star
A star in the night
The enemy we see
Is the enemy inside
Knowing we can win
Without knowing why
Wed be lost in hope
While we search for more
We find were already there
We are the children
We are the children
We are the children of the world
We are the children
We are the children
We are the children of the world
How many times do we look to the sky
Knowing weve nothing to lose
We are the children who wanted to fly
Now we can fly to the moon
We are the children
We are the children
We are the children of the world
We are the children
We are the children
We are the children of the world
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Six Foot Man
Well I was born six feet tall,
With no loving at all,
Had to rummage through my life of misery.
I had to go from place to place,
Never recognise my face,
I'm the moody man you never ever see.
Well, one day I placed a bet,
With the money I had left,
Did not know what the future held for me.
Through all the suffering and the pain,
If there's one thing that I've gained,
That's the patience that I now receive.
Poor boy,
Rich boy,
Well, what you gonna do boy?
Now that you have taken all the joy, oh, oh, oh.
And by the very next week,
I had headed a lucky streak,
I had won the lottery, four million pounds.
Opinion seemed to change so fast,
People hear that you've got cash,
? every single woman in this town.
Now I've got my limousine,
And the yacht upon the sea,
And the thousand friends I've never met before.
Through all the suffering and the pain,
Butthere's one thing that I've gained,
That's the knowledge that had when I was poor.
I was a poor boy,
Now I'm a rich boy,
Well, what you gonna do boy?
Now that you have taken all the joy, oh, oh, oh.
song performed by by Zutons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Known Outside
Not known to outside what is called hunger
It is not natural phenomena or coming out of anger
It is felt when fire is inflaming inside
When frustration is growing wide
You get no sleep when hungry
You look towards sky and feel sorry
Your hands are empty to feed
You are unable to meet the need
Hunger can burn whole of empire
They have only outrage and burning fire
No one can kill their spirit
As no hope is seen or lit
Many may be starving to death
So many may be enjoying with wealth
They need only two pieces of meals
We can’t have for them a nice deal
Let there be no hunger as proclaimed
No nature alone to be blamed
We have done injustice to nature
We have blackened our future
There is no answer to humanity
But yes it is poor thinking and bad quality
We can feed their mouth and see smile
That is what we can do for a while
We can for a while alienate
But we can’t afford to eliminate
Humanity as such can’t relate such things
It needs great care and more of something
Mere food grains may do little
They need to think positive and settle
How nature and forests are basic features!
This may become permanent and we may not have any cure
Sun may be blazing in noon
You may realize the devastation very soon
Nothing can shelter us from future gloom
No temporary steps can be considered in room
Soon it may turn into reality
We may loose out control and ability
Many more starvation deaths and deforestation
Not good place to live in then without sanitation
Let us groom with whole world
People are sympathetic and not turning cold
They want every human soul to live with peace
At least two time meals at ease
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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