The filth of the culture.
Beggars are a few who beg for food.
Beggars are a few who beg for money.
Beggars are plenty who beg for acceptance.
It reflects the filth of the culture.
10.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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City Of Beggars
The sky is always blue in the city of beggars
There is not much green in the city of beggars
There are buildings being built so fast in the city of beggars
In every corner that you encounter
The city of beggars are growing so fast
And in the city of beggars lives 30 million people
The air is not that good in the city of beggars
Because of the factories and the cars
The city of beggars never sleep
The noise goes on 24 hours a day
It is not safe to walk in the street of beggars
Because you can get robbed and killed at any time of the night or day
The traffic is chaotic in the city of beggars
Thanks God there is no snow in the city of beggars
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Theme From The City Of Beggars
Free the beggars from poverty today
Free the beggars from the slam today
Free the beggars from slave labour
Give the beggars some hope today
Put a smile on the beggars face
The beggars are starving today
So go ahead and feed the beggars some bread and water
Because that is better than nothing
Give the beggars the same right
That the rich got
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Beggars Day
If this is heaven, then Im in hell
If trust is misfortune, then wish me well
While I think of sadness baby
Your light shines through, your light shines through
Your light shines through
Chorus:
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Ive lost control of my darker side
A world all for free, on a nastier ride
*and I have crossed myself in anger
All your mercy cant save me, all your mercy cant save me
All your mercy cant save me
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Because its beggars day
Lead:
Its beggars day
You know its beggars day
Because its beggars day
See this love, Ive stored for you
Wheel it and deal it, but our feelins are true
Repeat *
Chorus (2x)
(written by nils lofgren)
(published by almo music corp./hilmer publishing co. ascap)
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beggars Farm
Youre taking chances. and your reputations going down.
Going out in the night-time. you think you make no sound.
But you dont fool me. 'cos I know what you feel.
If you ignore the things I say --
Someday soons gonna find you
'way down on beggars farm.
I pay my money for no returns.
I think I need you. going to find someone.
Oh, you dont fool me. 'cos I know what you feel.
When you go out I ask you why.
And I wont worry when I see you lying
Down on beggars farm.
When you run to me, going to turn away.
Wont even listen when you try to say
That you were only fooling around --
'cos I know what you feel.
But if you ask me nicely, woman --
Ill wake up early one day soon and
Ill visit you down on beggars farm.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Widow At Windsor
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.
(Poor beggars! -- barbarious wars!)
Then 'ere's to the Widow at Windsor,
An' 'ere's to the stores an' the guns,
The men an' the 'orses what makes up the forces
O' Missis Victorier's sons.
(Poor beggars! Victorier's sons!)
Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor,
For 'alf o' Creation she owns:
We 'ave bought 'er the same with the sword an' the flame,
An' we've salted it down with our bones.
(Poor beggars! -- it's blue with our bones!)
Hands off o' the sons o' the Widow,
Hands off o' the goods in 'er shop,
For the Kings must come down an' the Emperors frown
When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop"!
(Poor beggars! -- we're sent to say "Stop"!)
Then 'ere's to the Lodge o' the Widow,
From the Pole to the Tropics it runs --
To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an' the file,
An' open in form with the guns.
(Poor beggars! -- it's always they guns!)
We 'ave 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor,
It's safest to let 'er alone:
For 'er sentries we stand by the sea an' the land
Wherever the bugles are blown.
(Poor beggars! -- an' don't we get blown!)
Take 'old o' the Wings o' the Mornin',
An' flop round the earth till you're dead;
But you won't get away from the tune that they play
To the bloomin' old rag over'ead.
(Poor beggars! -- it's 'ot over'ead!)
Then 'ere's to the sons o' the Widow,
Wherever, 'owever they roam.
'Ere's all they desire, an' if they require
A speedy return to their 'ome.
(Poor beggars! -- they'll never see 'ome!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Lord Buddha begged.
The society has more thieves than beggars.
In a way, beggars are better than thieves.
They beg but steal not and get but usurp not.
Mortgaging their ego, they are begging.
It is easy to steal but hard to beg.
Give or not, don’t treat beggars with contempt.
Do treat them at par while you give them alms.
Feel elated while you offer them alms.
While giving, dispel their humiliation.
Lord Buddha too led His life as a beggar.
19.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Beggars of acceptance
One tailors one’s talks, designs one’s clothes,
Sets one’s faith, trains ones mind and mould oneself,
Each to a targeted audience
And thus all are beggars of acceptance.
17.10.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I See The Door
As sirens screamed out in the darkness
And fire fell down from the sky
As we cowered again in the bunker
We all knew the reason why
As our houses lay in ruins
And our sons were shot side by side
As the devil danced upon the graveyard
We all knew who's to blame
"For I am not one of the cowards
For I'm neither mortal nor weak
For I am the one you have longed for
A new master-race forsee"
He that is without sin among you
Let him first cast a stone on you...
Joh. 8,1
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride
If leaders feed beggars, a nation of beggars will fight
Those you once seduced
Are now here to be crucified
The principle of a fool
Who's betrayed and sacrificed
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war
All hot and bleeding will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood...
Shakespeare
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I See The Door
As sirens screamed out in the darkness
And fire fell down from the sky
As we cowered again in the bunker
We all knew the reason why
As our houses lay in ruins
And our sons were shot side by side
As the devil danced upon the graveyard
We all knew who's to blame
"For I am not one of the cowards
For I'm neither mortal nor weak
For I am the one you have longed for
A new master-race forsee"
He that is without sin among you
Let him first cast a stone on you...
Joh. 8,1
If wishes were horses, beggars would ride
If leaders feed beggars, a nation of beggars will fight
Those you once seduced
Are now here to be crucified
The principle of a fool
Who's betrayed and sacrificed
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war
All hot and bleeding will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood...
Shakespeare
song performed by by Verve
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The other bank is green
In lords’ view
Beggars are the most suffering community.
In beggars’ view
Lords are the most enjoying community.
They aren’t as they are viewed.
04.04.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Raul
Raul
he made it in the foriegn land
and returned to his country
bought a big house
and a brand new car.
Raul
everytime he drove the car
as if he did not see
the beggars on the street
that he had just let the water from the gutter
to splash on them
while his car moved on.
Raul
when he had a car accident
the people who rushed him to the hospital
that helped save his life
were the beggars on the street.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Sunny Day Upon Sunny Day
While sunny day upon sunny day
is swept away
and life goes on in its age-old clutter
with beggars in the gutter
some people are full of laughter,
are celebrating to the day after
and to others have no pity
while they are happy and pretty
and so life still goes on,
with every passing day that is gone,
while from the time of birth
the days of man go back to the earth,
while sunny day upon sunny day
is swept away
and life goes on in its age-old clutter
with beggars in the gutter.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Give them right to work.
Prostitutes are happy with their profession
As beggars are, with theirs. To wipe them out
Would amount to denying their right to work
And to depriving consumers of their wants.
09.07.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Who is a beggar and who is not
Take your coin, I am no beggar
In our country
Beggars are less uncommon
They are there anywhere
Except
Cemeteries
Burial ground and
Cremation yard
They beg you so pathetically
That you are forced to dropp a coin
Pavements invariably
Irrespective of the city
House beggars
You can make out them
By the way they look
Women beg
Pointing to us the little child
They carry on their waist
Old ladies too beg
And they station themselves
Against you in your path
Making it difficult for you
To step ahead further
While you are on a wait
Either bus stop
Rail station
Park or beach
Some one or the other appear before you
Begging
Truly speaking
It hurts me to turn away someone
Asking for alms
Without getting them something
Some hold the view
That they need not help beggars
As they are not the one
Who made beggars beg
Begging should be discouraged
And to do that
Beggars should not be helped
Is some others’ view point
I am not quite sure
Whether to help beggars or not
I normally dropp a coin of least denomination
In the begging bowl or in the opened up palms of a beggar
Provided I have the coin
If I do not have a coin to part with
Or if I do not have the mind to help
I muster the strength
To tell the beggar
That I have no changes to spare
This morning
I was rushing to the office
After getting down from the bus
I saw a middle aged male
Who was rolling down on the tar topped road
Sitting on roller-fixed wooden plank
Pushing with the help of has hands
It appeared he had no legs
I decided to help him with a coin
As I got nearer
I came to understand that he was polio affected
Both his legs becoming non functional
Of late, thin and feeble
I ran my hand through my left pant pocket
Got hold of a coin of a better denomination
Than the one I normally prefer to drop
Stood by his side
As he was enjoying a puff of a lighted cigarette
On his lips
He did not lift his face
Having waited for some seconds
I decided to dropp that coin
I did the same
And started going towards office
I heard the rolling of wheels
When I looked back
The person on the wheel-fixed plank
Pointed his right index finger
Towards the dropped coin
About four metres on the backside
And said curtly
Take your coin
I am no beggar
As I reached the spot
And picked up the coin
I felt too small of me
And in fact, beg for the knowledge
As to know
Who is a beggar and who is not
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Sonnet: Offerings to God
Flowers and foods specially, they offer
In silver utensils- makes one wonder!
A ritual thus, does God expect at all?
When He needs nothing earthly for His hall.
They waste money, food in the name of God;
O give it to the beggars, they praise Lord;
’Tis a shame Man, a beggar in the streets
Searching the garbage dumps for food, he feeds!
Pet animals are indeed so lucky!
Well-groomed they eat with their master’s neatly;
O Human brother, have you lost your heart?
God’s semblance made, fellowmen too depart.
So share at least the excess food, wealth, man!
Take back a morsel or dime, you nev’r can.
3-1-2000
poem by John Celes
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Train No: 6009
Mumbai Mail is a jail
causing me to pass through terrible ordeals
station by every small station,
where its hooting woke no one.
As if to bail me out of my strain
an old money lender with his wife
got in and sat opposite at Wadi.
Snacks galore!
Plate after plate
they were emptying
and driving away the beggars
by waving their hands,
when their harsh words
failed to keep them at bay.
In two, three places
they went out, gave sweet packets
to their kin who touched their feet
and blessed them by snuggling them close.
Poor women with babies,
children singing and dancng,
boys and girls cleaning the coach,
the flesh starved skeletons,
buffeted by illness,
the physically and mentally challenged……
Nobody got a coin or a measly food from them.
Giving alms might be a drain on their resources.
and a stain on their palms.
To cause a flutter in their hearts,
I slid down some coins
in the hands of the misfortune.
But the stubborn man
guided all the beggars towards me.
They dropped coins of high value
into the rivers Krishna and the Tungabadra
murmuring the name of some god.
But their coins didn’t slip down
into the river of suffering humanity.
-----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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