A culprit is over taxed.
I did some fraud that came out.
I was held a culprit for it.
Then there is a surge all around
To implicate me in every deal
I bought pieces of land from some
By paying more than the market price
And sold them as a unit twice higher.
Now they complain that I’d cheated.
I did fevours to some women,
Who granted me intimacy
And exploited my weakness.
Now they complain that I’d raped.
27.12.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Bought And Sold
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Excesses on the cheapness of life,
Has made a weakness increase...
And,
Bought and sold.
Bought,
And sold.
Bought and sold.
Too many given anything.
Just to say they've gotten a piece,
To be...
Bought and sold.
Bought and sold...
On what to me has been told.
Not me I'm not of mush.
Nor easily crushed to dust.
Bought and sold...
As if no feelings I keep.
But deep inside I'm touched.
Nothing here is cheaply rushed.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Too many people take for granted and accept too easily.
To be sold,
On what they're told.
Bought and sold,
On what they're told.
Just...
To sell.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You're living in paradise
I'm getting tired of hearing your silly complaints.
You're angry because your husband isn't a saint.
Your husband forgets and leaves the toilet seat up and you think this isn't very nice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
Your husband has a few flaws but in my eyes he's great.
When I tell you about some other husbands, he'll be a man who you 'll appreciate.
I've seen husbands who beat and raped their wives and some husbands who even threatened them with guns.
And you complain about the superficial things your husband has done.
Close to where I live, a man killed his wife and then set her on fire.
Be thankful that your life isn't so dire.
These poor women's lives have been completely destroyed.
And you have the nerve to complain because your husband goes out once a week with the boys.
Before you complain about your husband again, maybe you should think twice.
You think you have it bad but you're really living in paradise.
poem by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Periphery of Sensitivity
Stay quiet, do not complain.
What are you talking about?
You must know the periphery of sensitivity
Stay within.
Your five year daughter might have been raped.
So what?
Look at your character, madam.
Keep running from pillar to post.
Who cares, if you cry behind doors?
Life moves on...
A child was made to drink her urine.
Stay quiet, do not complain.
It happens sometimes...
It is normal.
The warden did her job.
She would not wet her bed again.
Do not get scared
If you find the sweeper
With knife in hand at operation theater;
It is a helping hand.
Aren't you too sensitive about life?
What would you do in absence of trained men?
So stay quiet, don't complain.
Do not try to raise your voice
Even if it hurts...
Price rise is normal during inflation.
You spend much more on ice-cream
It's just few rupees...
So stay quiet, do not complain.
See, how we are becoming thick skinned.
The spine will soon become non-existent.
It is evolution of Indian in independent India.
We learned to stay indifferent.
There is a periphery of sensitivity,
Stay within.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Must I Complain, O God, I Pray?
When you made me by love thine,
And called me sweetly by my name,
And wrote it in your palm divine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you chose me for job fine,
And gave me breath in special way,
And made me walk on earth, ravine,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you led me through hill, vale,
And desert, plain, seasons umptine,
And kept me safe through flood and hale,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you watched o'er me night, day,
And fed, clothed, sheltered me all life,
And held me by right hand en way,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you suffered, died on cross,
And resurrected on third day,
And wait for me with Father Boss,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
When you are Almighty God,
And love to see my soul back pure,
And fair in judgment, just in rod,
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Must I complain, O God, I pray?
Fondly dedicated to my dear elder sister,
Miss. Noeline Mary Clemencia BSc., B.T.,
On her birthday today
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-02-'12
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretty Good
I got a friend in fremont, he sells used cars, ya know.
Well, he calls me up twice a year
Just ask me howd it go
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Actually everything is just about the same
I met a girl from venus, and her insides were lined in gold
Well, she did what she did said how was it, kid?
She was politely told
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
But actually everything is just about the same.
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Molly went to arkansas, she got raped by dobbins dog
Well, she was doing good till she went in the woods
And got pinned up against a log
Pretty good, not bad, she cant complain
Cause actually all them dogs is just about the same
Moonlight makes me dizzy
Sunlight makes me clean
Your light is the sweetest thing
That this boy has ever seen.
Instrumental:
I heard allah and buddha were singing at the saviors feast
And up the sky and arabian rabbi
Fed quaker oats to a priest.
Pretty good, not bad, they cant complain
Cause actually all them gods is just about the same
Pretty good, not bad, I cant complain
Cause actually everything is just about the same
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wine & Women
Wine and women and song will only make me sad
Love and kisses and hugs , the things I never had
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end , I will find
What shall I do (what shall I do )
What shall I do (what shall I do )
Cars and buses and trams make alot of noise
All my women have gone out with other boys
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end, I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain (I feel no pain )
(break)
Ooh..
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end , I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain (I feel no pain )
Wine and women and song will only make me sad
Love and kisses and hugs the thing I never had
If this should end , I dont mind
If this should end, I will find
I wont complain (I wont complain)
I feel no pain ( I feel no pain)
I wont complain .. cry
Ooh....
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
©Copyright 2008
poem by Regan Mackenzie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Food Left To Rot
market price
market fixed
market profit
not worth picking
costs more picking
than sold price paid
never fruit picked
never taste eaten
never starving fed
global waste sickening
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Price Of The Cock
THE PRICE OF THE COCK
A WOMAN STOLE A COCK AND TOOK IT TO THE MARKET TO SELL IT, WHILST AT THE MARKET, SMARTER THIEVES STOLE THE COCK FROM HER AND SHE WENT BACK HOME SOBER!
ON HER ARRIVAL AT HER HOUSE, AN INQUISITIVE NEIGHBOUR ASKED, DEAR NEIGHBOUR, YOUR COCK WHICH YOU TOOK TO THE MARKET, HOW MUCH DID YOU SELL IT? SHE ASKED AND THE SOBER WOMAN REPLIED, IT WAS SOLD FOR EXACTLY THE SAME PRICE FOR WHICH IT WAS BOUGHT!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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The Death Song
THE sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains when their lights fade away:
Begin, you tormentors ! your threats are in vain,
For the son of Alknomook will never complain.
Remember the arrows he shot from his bow,
Remember your chiefs, by his hatchet laid low:
Why so slow? do you wait till I shrink from the pain?
No; the son of Alknomook shall never complain.
Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps which we bore from your nation away:
Now the flame rises fast; you exult in my pain;
But the son of Alknomook can never complain.
I go to the land where my father is gone,
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son:
Death comes like a friend to relieve me from pain;
And thy son, O Alknomook, has scorn'd to complain.
poem by Anne Hunter
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My Trip To Auschwitz
I did not complain when my toes succumbed to numbness.
I did not complain when the bitter wind threw itself against me.
I did not complain when the thick mud ruined the flares of my jeans.
In comparison to the tragedy that has befallen here.
I have nothing of value to lose.
What is value?
What can I consider a true loss?
Nothing.
In comparison to the holocaust.
poem by Rachel Henley
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You're Not The Only One
(r palmer)
You're not the only one who feels so funky
You're not the only one that's out of work
You're not the only one that got a bum deal
You're not the only one on planet earth
Man you got it lucky more than most
You don't know when you're well off
You got no room to complain
Quit your moanin, we're all in the same boat
Your excuse is wearin' thin, you got no one else to blame
You're tellin' me
You're not the only one gettin' busted
You're not the only one with income tax
You're not the only one who fels corrupted
You're not the only one that can't relax
Count your blessings, not your income tax
You're not the only one whose paying uncle sam
Quit yoyr dumb complaining, take it back
I got news for you, pull up your socks
And get with the programme
You're not the only one with a disfunction
You're not the only one that's got the past
You're not the only one with no compunctions
You're not the only one that's strapped for cash
No room to survive
Man you got it lucky more than most
You don't know when you're well off
You got no room to complain
Quit your moanin, we're all in the same boat
Your excuse is wearin' thin, you got hell to pay
You're not the only one who feels so funky
You're not the only one, come on that's out of work
You're not the only one that got a bum deal
You're not the only one on planet earth
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unique, Eccentric Things
Women over age forty complain they are invisible
to men, must appear young and lie about age for
attention - this problem does not exist for people
like me who never caught the male eye because
we never appealed by attending to them
It is hard work to idealise anyone and the loss of
cheap admiration seems to be an advantage as
fake charm to exploit a dame never held interest,
older women should rejoice that they are free
from false compliments courting their favour
Women who complain about this benefit must
have been used to wolf-whistles; since my pre-
occupations kept me safe from such practices
I don’t suffer losing superficial meaningless
things - I have little sympathy with
Feminine types who live for compliments, yet
I appreciate the variety they add to life; never
want individual ideas to be lost; I love unique,
eccentric things for the interesting contrast
they always provide through their being
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I complain of my own nothingness
I COMPLAIN OF MY OWN NOTHINGNESS
I complain of my own nothingness
And I ask God for Help.
Am I a hypocrite or just a fool?
Or perhaps more kindly put
A person of the eternal human contradictions?
I complain of my own nothingness
And ask God for Help.
God Who has given me so much,
Why did You also have to give me
My sense of my own nothingness, also?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Body
the eyes complain
about the brows that
they dont curve
the right way
the lips complain
about the teeth
that they are not
uniform in stature
for a real show
the heart complains
about the libido that
it is too tiresome
and cyclical to
entertain
the brain grumbles
about itself for being
too slow to absorb
the world
the fingers complain
about the itching back
that it is too far away
to scratch
and the legs,
they cannot even run
as fast as they wish
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Peace And Pieces
peace of mind and pieces of mind
easy to find and hard to define
peace of heart and pieces of heart
present when together and absent when depart
peace of love and pieces of love
happy if its true and sad if its bluff
peace of family and pieces of family
good when sharing and worst when breaking
peace of soul and pieces of soul
good or bad our deeds play a lead role
peace of world and pieces of world
its price less as it cannot be bought or sold
peace to sleep and pieces of sleep
relaxes when deep and breaks with even a beep
poem by Fahmina Arjumand Misha
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He should not complain of being cheated who buys the cloth by the sample.
Let him not complain of being cheated who buys cloth by the pattern.
We Complain
We complain
When in other countries people are in pain
We complain
And on the other side, conditions are inhumane
We complain
Many people want to ascertain
I don't eat cheese
While in other countries people die of disease
I don't want to clean my room
While many people starve just wanting food to consume
My mom just gave me 50 dollars and thats not enough
In different places people can't even pay for rent; life is tough
We complain
Many people, their life they can't sustain
Parents their kids they can't maintain
On Christmas people can't even buy a candy cane
People feeling like they're drowning in acid rain
And we complain
People out there who can't even afford to watch an ad campaign
People hiding on the streets because of shame
Because themselves are the ones to blame
Many things they detain
People out there who wish they were slain
People who wear the same clothes with the same little stain
People sleeping out in the rain
People who have given up and just start to cut their vein
When some people work and get their paycheck, they feel nothing they gain
Without insurance they gotta be careful because there's nothing they can sprain
Many people like in Africa have nothing to eat, not even a little grain...
And we complain
poem by Bianca Edwards
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