Acidic Sea
The Acidic Sea
All those nice villas along the coast are empty safe for stray cats
and those too poor to live inlands, because the sea stinks like
bouillabaisse gone off. Marine life and sea plants have died out
too much acidity caused by industrial man, and now it is too late
to clean up the mess. Fish in tanks are guarded well and so dear
that only the very rich can afford to eat, say, bacalao; we have to
eat fishcakes that consists of ninety eight percent mashed potatoes,
the rest is cod skin. Cod liver oil is the cure all medicine, it’s very
expensive and only the well off can afford to buy it, and they,
the rich live years longer than the poor. This has raised concern
and social unrest, politicians on the left, insist the poor too has
the right to be given a teaspoon full every morning; mind there is
synthetic cod liver oil on the market, but it tastes awful. Seagulls
and terns have adopted well have earth hued feathers, sit in carob
trees, sharp eyed keep and eye for scarps of food and scare tiny
tots with their inane pirate shrieks. From safe distant, when wind
is calm, and on romantic, moonlit nights, the sea looks as beautiful
as described by marine biologists in fairytale books.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
I Go For Simplicity My Friend
i go for simplicity my friend
because i am poor
i do not go for sophistication
because i am poor
i do not complicate matters
because i am poor
i do not want you to misunderstand
because i am poor
i do not want you to think some more
because i am poor
i do not want to convince you
because i am poor
i do not want you to be with our side
because we are poor
i want all things in their simplified forms
because we cannot afford
any other form of convolutions
we cannot afford another revolution
it will be expensive
and we have no more years to give
to pay for the sponsors
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Xyz
Once was, never the better by worse -
Adopted by the attitude which is used by the rich -
Stones are stones, yet they carry gold -
Why do we exchange to letter the poor, poor -
Struggle becomes normal, rags dressed to be formal -
Food is the sacred passage whereby some have to survive -
That which is thrown away by you as useless -
Builds another mans house -
A home, protection for his family -
What will be the outcome, to standby to fly -
And the rest of the humans die -
Of hunger, starvation is an equations -
One does not equal the other -
Rich does not equal poor -
XYZ
Yet, without the poor you will be dead
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Bailout My Soul
My soul, is now empty
I know not, what to think
of this demise from, the rich and greedy
Shame on you all, forgettin' the poor and needy
The human spirit will still, soar on through
Although the poor are forgotten
oh my, thats' me and you
It's not that your poor
with your money machines
printing what ceo's need
more of the green
For we are in a worldy mess
never were poor mentioned
as Dylan once spoke
this so called rich American society
is but a joke
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Our Souls Are Safe
Ghouls of heaven are beauty and modesty,
Greater deities come from this ugliness.
Their help is in hand, their aiding us is beneficial
When our life is like a cellar, and not a roof.
One house is forced to our self, and one home is essential
For they have no more than one and one is all.
Poor people are not rich in their paragraphs,
In their sizes and style, life is empty and non-proud.
Much is condemned by the rich,
Where is the speech of the poor?
The poor are ghouls, and we haven’t any goals
Or riches, but now we have.
Our heaven is not hell, and our souls are safe.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Death Levels All
ah, you are a rich man
smart and famous
you have a beautiful house
an expensive car
a nice family
how envious can we be
we have nothing
we are dumb, and anonymous
we can't afford shoes
our father died during the war
mother died from shock
the rest of the siblings
cannot be found
but today i level up with you
you are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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No Access To Fast Food, Branded Clothes And
The creation of nations,
that have passion,
for money and power,
is the absolute poverty.
Not having the access,
to shelter, food and clothing,
to have a healthy living.
Fifteen percent Americans,
fall under poverty line,
and they earn,
less than,
ONLY 22K American dollar,
per year.
In other parts of the world,
people live,
in appropriate poverty,
and they live on,
2 dollars a day,
six hundred dollars a year,
five people can eat,
have shelter and simple clothing,
still they are healthy.
slim and fit.
Europeans are clever,
to make the people to believe,
that they are poor,
earning only 800 Euro a month,
Which is above,
the average annual income,
of many developing nations,
where people have,
no access to any wealth and health.
All of us stay in the same earth,
but the value of properties,
and the rental acquired,
through the properties,
differ substantially.
Politicians of the poor nations,
have abysmal knowledge on economics.
To be a rich nation,
we should have values,
but these clowns are short sighted,
to look at the value,
of their own properties!
Do not say that they are poor,
because the term poor itself,
will be ashamed,
for using its credibility,
for wrong purpose.
Please do not call them poor,
when the nations are able to provide them,
the food, shelter and health care.
Find a suitable word,
and leave the poor alone,
who have no access,
to any of these comforts on their own,
and their nations,
are unable to provide them,
the access to the comfort.
Reason for writing this poem.
The feelings of the poor are the same through out the world, irrespective of the countries that they are staying, but the proper definition for poverty should be clarified before classifying the people as poor, which means the poor of one country may be considered as the rich in another country. Then what is the real meaning for poverty?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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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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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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Poor Fish And Raison Pie
Poor Fish and raison pie came my way one day.
Sometimes my poor fish don`t go away
so quickly as eye try to make them
slide into my belly to fill my hungry want.
I found an ice cream melted raison pie.
I could NOT eat it all.
Sometimes I have so many blessings,
I wonder iff there is any left in Heaven.
Poor Shrim: Pe and fish and old potatoes.
Some Jalepnoes and then some more peppers.
Popcorn for later, to make me feel much better.
There is always room for more.
I could NOT eat it all.
I left some raison pie unfinished.
There will always be some more poor fish
and raison pie.
poem by Charles Hice
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Tiny Tots (A Celesian)
Tiny tots,
Who barely walk,
Are off to school
Each day;
Their age is meant
To eat and play,
And sleep whenev’r,
They may.
Tiny tots,
With heavy hearts,
Carry huge books
Their way;
With mothers off
To early work
To help husbands’
Poor pay.
Tiny tots,
Just want more love,
But don’t get it
Some way;
Few get pamper’d
By bad adults,
Who tamper them
Today.
Tiny tots,
Raised in this way
Turn delinquent,
I say;
Their future’s bleak:
Know this adults;
They need more care
All day.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-4-2007
'Celesian' is a new innovative, simple, structured, rhyming poem
With syllables in the order
3,4,4,2a /4,4,4,2a in each stanza
poem by John Celes
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Tears of the poor
Tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich.
Shedding of blood
Rich man's headache,
Poor men's justice.
Water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish,
Fire is the only solution
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is lover's desire
Poor men's unbearable pain.
Din is the only right choice
To put forth your demand.
Dew is the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and the king,
Morning is the 1st step
Of that poor men's sufferings.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Ewe
One little ewe lamb was walking along the street,
But two types people do live on this earth;
And i made up my mind to walk closer and look,
For the rich and the poor were there too.
Oh! I saw the little ewe lamb;
And like the poor man's sorrow and the rich man's laughter,
But let us lead this little ewe lamb to find its way home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The poor rich
Who is poor rich? Who is rich poor?
A lone duck among swans is poor rich.
A lone swan among ducks is rich poor.
Each circle has either of one in it.
30.05.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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War in America
In this sad country there will be a bitter war,
Not from foreign peoples who would attack us,
But between our very rich and hopeless poor.
There’ll be death and destruction as the war rages,
While wealthy choke the waning middle class.
As history repeats the tragic Dark Middle Ages.
When the middle class has only bitterness and hate,
Opportunities for peace will then be too late.
When they realize that the rich will never yield,
They’ll take their hopes and causes to the battle field.
The rich will have the best arms that money can buy.
The power of the poor will be in their angry numbers
And their desire to effect changes in their lots or die.
Man can go to the moon, create an internet, cure cancer.
But put rich politicians with no conscience in a room;
They’ll languish and war in America will be the answer.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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An Old Man Can Be A Poor Man/ An Old Man Can Be A Rich Man
AN OLD MAN CAN BE A POOR MAN/AN OLD MAN CAN BE A RICH MAN
An old man can be a poor man-
He can complain of his pains and problems-
He can think only of all the powers
He no longer has.
An old man can be a poor man
And remember how he loved once
And know he will never love again
And feel infinitely sad at life gone.
An old man can be a rich man-
He can bless the pleasures life still gives,
He can know how to smile,
And know how to laugh-
He can know how to give to those he cares for,
If not of the money he does not have
Nor the physical strength no longer his,
But of the love and the wisdom and the kindness,
He is still blessed with.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Tears of the poor man (alternative version)
The tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich,
Yet the shedding of blood
Is the rich man's headache...
And what of the poor man's justice?
In truth, water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish!
Fire is the only solution!
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is each lover's desire,
Yet the poor man's unbearable pain.
Making a din is the only right choice
To put forth your final demand.
Dew is but the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and their kings,
While morning is but the first step
Of each poor man's sufferings..
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Tears Of The Poor Man
The tears of the poor are
The drinks of the rich,
Yet the shedding of blood
Is the rich man's headache...
And what of the poor man's justice?
In truth, water is too cool
To bring forth your anguish!
Fire is the only solution!
Drink fire to end your injustice.
Silence is each lover's desire,
Yet the poor man's unbearable pain.
Making a din is the only right choice
To put forth your final demand.
Dew is but the conspiracy
Hatched between the rich and their kings,
While morning is but the first step
Of each poor man's sufferings...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Beginning, Middle And An End
Every story has
a beginning, middle and an end,
but don't ask me where I am
because I won't know until I die.
Some live poor, begging food everyday,
others live rich, as rich as Rockefeller.
Others live as gangsters just like Al Capone.
While others live as lawmen, Sherlock is the name
I live my life with stories
that flow from my pen
and everyone I write has
a beginning, middle and an end.
21 February 2012
poem by David Harris
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The Rich, The Poor
Even in the rich man's house
Poor man's food is being eaten
You had better eat rich man's food
In the poor man's house
Than eat poor man's food
In the rich man's house
Our world is mixed
Truly inseperable.
poem by Kolawole Ajao
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