What I Once Believe When I Was Young
idealism was the first thing i believe in
that the good triumphs
that the bad at the end is vanguished and buried
the corrupt is hanged and the people shall clap their hands
while the flag flies
in the free air, while the women dance in our liberties
while the men take pride
in the wars that they have fought and won,
that justice prevails
that the criminal is always caught and put to jail because
crime does not pay,
that the rich may soon become poor because in accordance with the
cycle of fortunes
no one is poor forever
that the only possibility of those who are up is always to go down
then one day i notice some white locks of hair in my head
my lips crack, my cheeks have wrinkles and my forehead has
a number of furroughs
my skin dry, my nose falling on my chin,
the changes, oh, the changes,
in myself have become the
inevitable,
and then, all of the sudden, the idealism is gone,
like how government is toppled by another government
like how a charismatice leader is shot and another
seemingly charismatic leader takes the reigns,
only to find
one robber displacing another robber
and this keeps on happening for years, until one day
i find myself standing in one corridor staring to the space beyond me
to the far mountain to some grey skies
it looks it will rain all day in my life
i look at myself in the mirror
to find this ugliness in myself and in everything else
it is dark, it is what we call a nice evening and then we do nothing
but turn off the light and sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For Government To Be Fair!
for any government to be fair,
every citizen has to be
just as important as every other.
every citizen has to have equal rights,
whether black or white,
rich or poor, gay or straight.
whether they believe in the same god,
in another, or in none.
whether they speak english,
or another language.
whether they are educated,
or not!
every citizen has to have an equal chance,
for employment, for education,
for housing, for love and happiness.
and every citizen has to respect,
both himself, and others...
this government should be
a government by the people...
any leader should be from among the people.
government, small in tether,
large in affirmation!
we're not anywhere close to this in America!
we have been sold out by our own greed,
and have chosen in our apathy to follow the lie.
now it's come to a head!
what we do next determines if democracy works.
what we do next defines our level of humanity.
call it democracy, call it socialism,
it doesnt matter what you call it.
what it has to be is redemption...
what it has to bring, is freedom!
finally!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I save for them
A robber appointed as the Government.
A robber inherited as the religion.
A robber elected as the minister.
A robber allowed as a trader.
You save money for them.
31.08.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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We Are Told
We are told that we have got freedom yet not freedom to do as we like
There are places we are not allowed to walk in or where we cannot ride a push bike
Which means that our freedom is so called since we cannot even walk where we please
Ours is such a limited freedom we are not as free as a breeze.
Without a passport we cannot travel to another Country and that is for a limited time
And if we overstay our visa that is a deportable crime
By the Immigration Department of Government by a Government not blessed with a soul
There is a name for such a practice 'tis known as population control.
Young men in wars fought and died for freedom but was it for freedom they died?
When their Government leader told them they were fighting for freedom to the young and naive troops he lied
They fought for the glory of their leader and risked their lives on a foreign shore
They were used as pawns in a deadly power game just that sad to say nothing more.
We are told that we have got freedom though we have to be careful with the words we say
And if our speech on it has got restrictions then what is freedom anyway?
Young men fought and even died for freedom at least that's what we are made to believe
By so called patriotic politicians people who are known to deceive.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Ghost Eagle Still Flies Ghost Skies
beauty solemnly slips from grief dark shadows
her eyes were soulful as dark as her hair shines
dance with life smile at his funeral an angel divine
his spirit flew in bright white blue mountain thermals
morning burn golden light upon life sacred mountain
eagle flies no more these spectral blue white skies
hunters came creeping shot free eagle as he soars flies
feelings ghost haunting hunt skies where eagle flies no more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Blind Justice...
When people say justice is blind...
are they using the figure of speef just because it sounds devine...
I think justice is actually blind...
because someone is being comitted of crime...
and the government won't give a homeless man a dime...
apples is in doggy jail for biting child...
why are the consequnces so dire...
my father, paying student lone for half his life...
because he had to provide for his kids and his wife...
my friends in school not doing so well...
because they dont have fathers...
probaly because they're in jail...
that just proves how so many black people live this way...
maybe theres other, latinos and such...
but not much of our government...
gives a f***...
as we can see, the world isnt kind...
but what we can see is that justice...
is blind...
while they kick us in our as****
sure would be nice if justice...
had glasses...
poem by Onyx Blake
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Ghetto Blaster
(stewart, cregan, savigar)
This song aint meant to be pretty
It aint meant to make you dance
Theres so many unsolved problems
Too many empty, angry hands
A little child in ethiopia
Will die before this song is through
Poor eyes have only seen sadness
Oh God show us what to do
Im not preaching, Im just singing
Trying to get a message through
Im not crazy, I think maybe
The answers with me and you
Here they come
Take us to your leader
Take us to your leader
Think about it
A billion dollars on the arms race
Billions floating round in space
Opecs counting out its money
Hunger stares us in the face
The battlefield is little children
Caught in a cross fire of hate
How can we call ourselves christians
How can we turn the other way
Im not preaching, Im just singing
Trying to get a message through
Im not crazy, I think maybe
The answers with me and you
Here they come
Take us to your leader
Listen to what theyre sayin
Take us to your leader
Think about it
Nostradamus gave us warning
You will never walk away
One neutron bomb in the morning
May just ruin your whole day
Im not preaching, Im just singing
Trying to get a message through
Im not crazy, I think maybe
The answers with me and you
Here they come
Take us to your leader
Listen to what theyre sayin
Take us to your leader
Take us to your leader
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tax
Tax is for the welfare of the masses
That’s why more tax should levied
Upon the rich than the poor
In such a manner
So that a desired balance is maintained.
There should be no filthy rich
In a poor country
So the government should impose tax
On this people couple of times more
Than the ordinary rich.
Education tax, poverty elimination tax
And tax to rehabilitate the beggars
Can be imposed on the very rich.
The government must go for moderate tax
For the poor people
And they should not slaughter the hen
That lays egg of gold.
The Muslims should give tax properly
Since it is obligatory for them
So in a Muslim country
The government should highlight this
In order to increase revenue.
poem by Asif Andalib
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I believe in an America with a government of men devoted solely to the public interests — men of ability and dedication, free from conflict or corruption or other commitment — a responsible government that is efficient and economical, with a balanced budget over the years of the cycle, reducing its debt in prosperous times — a government willing to entrust the people with the facts that they have — not a businessman's government, with business in the saddle … not a labor government, not a farmer's government, not a government of one section of the country or another, but a government of, for and by the people.
quote by John F. Kennedy
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Poverty
To get a card of
Below poverty line
I have to spot a person
Who has a link with Maoists.
Some says the head of the
Government of the state
Is the leader of maoists
Catchhold him seriously.
Who is poor and
How far in poverty
I am not here to
Measured or explain or
Eradicate poverty.
Without poverty the
Functioning of the
Government is difficult
As you know.
To get a card of
Below poverty line
Is to rebuild
The government and
You must agree
The rich how dear.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Where The River Flows
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Corruption Reigns Supreme
Politicians and union chiefs,
Are really so alike,
High salaries and pension schemes,
They never go on strike.
They're rewarded when they make a mess,
The same applies when they fail,
Whereas we'd be sacked immediately,
Then thrown into jail.
Their policies are much the same,
In Immorality they are entwined,
They want the plebs under their thumb,
In corruption they are enshrined.
They're paid for by the working class,
They always get their way,
Yet when it comes to all their perks,
We do not have a say.
When we hit recession,
For us redundancy will lurk,
While they retain their earnings,
They forever remain in work.
Take the miners leader,
He was pretty deft,
He's the leader of a union,
Where there are no miners left.
Trade unions and the government,
Have an affiliation,
You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours,
It's a truly sick creation.
You often find that union chiefs,
End up as politicians,
The job is very much the same,
Dictating our conditions.
If they were truly competent people,
With problems we would not be beset,
But throughout the world these wasters,
Have saddled us with massive debt.
They must be forced to recognise,
That we've all had enough,
If they had to live as we do,
They would find it really tough.
The workers of the modern world,
Really need to unite,
Strip these people of all their power,
Then push them out of sight.
Maybe then we could rid ourselves,
Of our lowly self esteem,
But the problem is we're far too weak,
That's Why,
'' Corruption Reigns Supreme ''
Stealing Dignity Poor: A Right To Dignity
roll out legacy
reds under beds
slander attacks
unfounded again
deficit terrorism
scares millions
American citizens
draw economic line
who launches
smear campaigns
to demonize
US intelligentsia
who targets
poor labels;
behavioural
economics?
claims bluntly
emphasizes
poor are lazy
short-sighted
ivy league boys
stealing bankrolls
get off honest
workers backs
give employment;
average IQ poor
is not well below
normal accounts
but for earnings
gap education
degrees do earn
higher salaries
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dawning
Ah! what time wilt Thou come? when shall that cry,
'The bridegroom's coming,' fill the sky?
Shall it in the evening run,
When our words and works are dome?
Or will Thy all-surprising light
Break at midnight,
When either sleep or some dark pleasure
Possesseth mad man without measure?
Or shall these early fragrant hours
Unlock Thy bowers,
And with their blush of light descry
Thy locks crowned with eternity?
Indeed, it is the only time
That with Thy glory doth best chime;
Full hymns doth yield,
The whole creation shakes off night,
And for Thy shadow looks the light;
Stars now vanish without number,
The pursy clouds disband and scatter,
All expect some sudden matter;
Not one beam triumphs, but from far
That morning star.
Oh, at what time soever, Thou,
Unknown to us, the heavens wilt bow,
And with Thy angels in the van
Descend to judge poor careless man,
Grant I may not like puddle lie
In a corrupt security,
Where, if a traveler water crave,
He finds it dead and in a grave;
But as this restless vocal spring
All day and night doth run and sing,
And though here born, yet is acquainted
Elsewhere, and flowing keeps untainted,
So let me all my busy age
In Thy free services engage;
And though while here of force I must
Have commerce sometimes with poor dust,
And in my flesh, though vile and low,
As this doth in her channel flow,
Yet let my course, my aim, my love,
And chief acquaintance be above;
So when that day and hour shall come
In which Thyself will be the sun,
Thou'lt find me dressed and on my way,
Watching the break of Thy great Day.
poem by Henry Vaughan
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Where does the Winter go?
There goes the Winter, sulkily slinking
Somewhere behind the trees on the hill.
He caught a vision of sweet Spring prinking
In green before her mirror---the rill.
And he turned away
With his face quite grey,
And he went without ever a glance behind him
But I want to know
Which way does he go,
And does anyone ever try to find him?
Is he caught to the sky in a burst of thunder
And tucked away in the clouds to sleep?
Or does he go down to the sea, I wonder,
And fling himself out where the waves roll deep?
Is he washed ashore
After tossings sore,
And found by some fisherman, pale and dying?
On some lonely beach
Beyond human reach
Still and stark is poor Winter lying?
Or climbs he up, with his grey head drooping,
Yon purple mountain that hides the sun,
And stooping and rising, rising and stooping,
Digs a grave where never was one?
And then lies down
In his grey, pale gown
A prayer on his lips, and his hands together?
"What tears will they shed
Because I am dead?
They will dance on my grave all the bright Spring weather."
Oh! Winter, Winter, my tears are falling,
Are you glad of the tears of a little child?
Though Spring is abroad and calling, calling,
I cling to the edge of your cloak so wild.
And I kiss your hand
And I understand,
And I smooth your proor grey head, low-lying,
Ah! I cannot sing
Just yet with the Spring
While Winter, Winter, is pale and dying.
poem by Ethel Turner
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When I'm Killed
When I’m killed, don’t think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
And there’s one thing that I know well,
I’m damned if I’ll be damned to Hell!
So when I’m killed, don’t wait for me,
Walking the dim corridor;
In Heaven or Hell, don’t wait for me,
Or you must wait for evermore.
You’ll find me buried, living-dead
In these verses that you’ve read.
So when I’m killed, don’t mourn for me,
Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
Killed and gone — don’t mourn for me.
On your lips my life is hung:
O friends and lovers, you can save
Your playfellow from the grave.
poem by Robert Graves
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Wrinkles and Grey Hair (Children)
Mommy's getting wrinkles.
Daddy has grey hair.
It wasn't very long ago
when those things weren't there.
Wish I could smooth the wrinkles out
and darken Daddy's hair
to stop the changes going on.
It makes me feel so scared.
Grampa, does it mean they'll die?
They have wrinkles and grey hair!
I never used to worry
before those things were there.
Grampa said to look at him.
There were lots of wrinkles there,
and on his head, a snowstorm
was the color of his hair.
'Wrinkles only come to point
where smiles were, here and there.
It's your mommy's turn to get some
for the happy times you've shared.'
His white, and Daddy's grey hair
well, it was there to show
who had lived the longest time
so everyone could know!
Grampa said it's part of life.
We love, we learn, we live.
We earn grey hair and wrinkles,
they're prizes only God can give.
You Come This Morning And Touch My Weakness
you two come this morning
searching the secret place in my body where my weakness lies
you gaze at me, like both of you are siamese twins
you scan my skin, you listen carefully to the beatings of my heart
you move your nose trying to figure out the smell
of that secret place
you frisk me, you strangle my hair hoping to find the secret
between the locks of my hair
on top of my forehead and behind the skull covered with
thick skin,
you try so hard to find what i am
what you find is what i am not because your hearts are hardened
by what you are not, in all the years that we have parted
i also listen to the beatings of your hearts
and in there there is no more sound of compassion
this time you must leave, i am locking my door.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Good Leader
A good leader
is the one
who will lead his people
not to war
but to a better life.
When I say
a better life
it's a life
where hunger
does not exist,
education and medication
is of reach.
So a leader
who could lead his people
to a better life
is the leader
whom I will salute
for he is the only leader
whom I will call
a good leader.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Bank Robber Man
I was walking down the street today
Just as somebody blew the doors off of the B of A
Just then I head them call my name
As I was thrown against the car
I was being framed
All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
I think you misunderstand
Do you think that I am the one that did it
Just because I'm tan?
Just then the officer at hand said
I don't give a damn that you are in a rock and roll band
All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
Just tell me what's going on ?
Can you tell me what I did wrong ?
Does busting me make you feel strong ?
Make you feel strong
All units we've got our man
We've got the bank robber man
We don't need no reason
You're going in the can
You look like the bank robber man
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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