Related quotes: blaring train declaring right- of-way,...

The 1%

blaring train
declaring right-
of-way,

elephantine, cyclopean,
crushing our lives
with their money,

their bloody truth
strangling the sighs
of the repossessed

as wall street swells
with the cries of
the dispossessed.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wall Street

On the wall of Facebook of uncertainty
your blog is written-
A Street that swirls to Capitalism.
What to occupy?
Anarchy, Crash, War, or a History?
JP Morgan, Daniel Drew, Jay Gould or the WTO?

Prairie farmers, urban workers middle sizes traders
denounced 'Money Trust';
ultimately trusted money.
Progressive Reformers charged the 'Devil Fish'
degrading democracy;
finally joined to loot the other people's money.
Working -class socialists welcomed the money street
as a transit route toward collective ownership;
now distrusted.

It is not a Chinese wall-street
that encircled the capital
It is an American firewall that
engulfed the world in Seattle.
War came war went Wall Street is high
Capital comes Capital goes
No one can still occupy.
Because Money is Honey, Money is moral
Money can not die
Protest comes and protest goes
Wall Street erects high.

poem by Vidyut Chakraborty
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The Wall Street Shuffle

Do the Wall Street shuffle
Hear the money rustle
Watch the greenbacks tumble
Feel the Sterling crumble
You need a yen to make a mark
If you wanna make money
You need the luck to make a buck
If you wanna be Getty, Rothschild
You've gotta be cool on Wall Street
You've gotta be cool on Wall Street
When your index is low
Dow Jones ain't got time for the bums
They wind up on skid row with holes in their pockets
They plead with you, buddy can you spare the dime
But you ain't got the time
Doin' the....
Doin' the....
Oh, Howard Hughes
Did your money make you better?
Are you waiting for the hour
When you can screw me?
'Cos you're big enough
To do the Wall Street Shuffle
Let your money hustle
Bet you'd sell your mother
You can buy another
Doin' the....
Doin' the....
You buy and sell
You wheel and deal
But you're living on instinct
You get a tip
You follow it
And you make a big killing
On Wall Street

song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Truth!

They said: ‘It’s the blaring truth,
Of the time.’ I said: ‘No, it’s the mute truth, of our time.’
Then he said: ‘You both are wrong. There is no truth, at all! ’

Thus, the eternal argument continues. Me taking
Many a avatars, like incarnations with my own truth;
They waiting for me to arrive, every time the flood recedes
And He, ever present like the truth itself, but doing nothing.

Then, we erect a pole of truth, and a flag atop
With questions scribbled on truth, about
His non-existent truth, my mute truth and
Their blaring truth! We all wait for the flag
To talk, in the wind and spread our message
Of truth and gather the majority. But it never fluttered,
It never fluttered for the truth.

poem by Jayanta Oinam
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How many lives to die

How many cries to hear
This street this street
Closing down on me
This bridge this bridge
River hum to hear
Get close go down
The water flows
Bend remorse to the ground
In fear it grows
Where do you truth off
Where do you truth down
The Eden roses thinning overnight?
Which speech what sound
Would you like to hear now
How many lives how many cries
Can your mirror bear?
Clairvoyant re-clair?
Presque-vue?

©Miroslava Odalović

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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His Writings On The Wall

when he was writing about
walls
he wrote the words on the walls
and they were arranged
like walls
from wall to wall his description
about the wall was
consistently like a wall
walling in all the walls
around the wall
where he was writing
consistently and
uniformly the word

wall, wall, wall, wall
and then nothing but a train of walls like this

wallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallw allwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwallwall
of course, he did notn add any smoke from steam engine
neither did he add any children and women and even men riding on the
train of walls
there was no driver even
or wheels

what he stressed was just a wall, a wall train, a wall nothing but a wall
walling him in
but what he really wanted at the end was something that should wall him out

something however that until now he is still trying to figure out

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mirror, Mirror, Bloody Fibber

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Can't you show me tall and slim?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Must I look so bloody grim?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
You're distorting my poor waist!
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And why the heck am I defaced?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Why have I a double chin?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
And what's the stupid, goofy grin?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Pointless asking ‘Who’s the fairest? –
More bloody likely, 'Who’s the queerest? ’
Now look, I paid a big bucks for thee,
So why can’t you be nice to me?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?
Me, you say? Ah, that's better –
Mirror, mirror, bloody fibber!

Mirror mirror bloody fibber
Mirror mirror mirror ribber
Mirror mirror mirror mirror
Mirror mirror make me slimmer

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Elephantine

it does not mean that you have grown
big ears, a wide trunk for breathing
or a wall as stomach to the hips,

elephants do not forget those who
harm them,
and they always have time to talk to
the sand who shall guide them
where the culprit can be found,

all their lives they seek for justice,
and that is
what an elephantine memory is all about.

friends tell me, i am.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Little Money Buys

IT'S FUNNY HOW LITTLE MONEY BUYS.
JUST CARS AND HOUSES AND FANCY TIES.
IT HAS NO MEANING WHEN SOMEONE DIES.
JUST TO HEIRS WHO COVET ITS SIZE.

IT WON'T PLANT TRUTH WHEN JUSTICE LIES.
JUST DISTORT TRUTH WHEN JUSTICE TRIES.
IT'S NO SOLUTION FOR LONELY SIGHS.
JUST A CRUEL IMPOSTOR IN DISGUISE.

IT CAN'T EMBRACE A CHILD WHO CRIES.
JUST GIVE SAD HOPE, NOT LOVE THAT'S WISE.
IT WILL NEVER BUY A SINGLE SUNRISE.
JUST STEAL DAYS PROMISING A FALSE PRIZE.

IT'S FUNNY HOW LITTLE MONEY BUYS.
JUST 'WHATS' OF LIFE, NOT PRECIOUS 'WHYS'.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Profiteers

Who profits from
these wars we wage?
The ones who read
the Wall Street page.
The young men fight.
The young men die
and do not know
the reason why?

For if they knew
they'd not be there.
Then there'd be silence
in the air.
The profiteers would
sit in rage
while reading again
the Wall Street page.

Sweet Mother of God
can they not find
another way
within their mind
to profit from
some other means
besides these
bloody awful scenes?

poem by Edwina Reizer
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There's Pain on the Faces

There's pain on the faces,
A hunted look of despair,
Once again,
Have you no shame
Do you feel no pain?

The queues have grown
Of the dirty and dispossessed
Once again,
Have you no shame
Do you feel no pain?

The scared and the lonely
Have no where to go,
Once again,
Have you no shame
Do you feel no pain?

Will take you to the soup kitchens,
Make you stand in line,
Talk to the dispossessed, the lost
Have you no shame,
Do you feel no pain?

Were we here?
When she stood in the rubble
Declaring regeneration
A new dawn for us all.
Have you no shame,
Do you feel no pain?

Take your millions,
Do what you want with it
No one cares
We have no sympathy
For those who feel no shame,
Do you still feel no pain?

poem by Nick Strong
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doing What - Money

I WOTE THIS ON 10-16-93 (EDITED)

Sure money can buy a car, a house, or even an expensive blouse,
can money buy true happiness?

There are people who waste money on illegal drugs to get them higher and higher,
yet from the Well where that money comes from tends to become
drier and drier, can money buy you emotional stability?

People are walking around without a decent pair of shoes,
a business man/woman loses all his/her money
in stock on Wall Street now he/she is crying the blues,
who strives for the needed money?

The United States is one big nation,
other lands coming to better their lives thru immigration,
parents putting out thousands for a child who doesn't want that
College education.
Is that money being used wisely or foolishly?

Families are living out on the street,
we all need shelter, medical, and a decent meal,
big money is being used to close large 'High Rise' business deals,
shouldn't good money be put out to help and to heal?

Some people are born into money,
I myself was not,
others earn their keep with hard earned labor,
eveyday I look to do a good deed for a friend, stranger or a neighbor,
I don't see it as having to ('owe You') ....
Now you see what money can do?

WE ALL NEED TO MAKE THE EFFORT TO MAKE SO SORT OF CHANGE IN THIS WORLD.
YET I KNOW IT'S HARD WHEN 'PEOPLE' IN GENERAL ARE ALWAYS LOOKING TO TAKE AND NOT WANT TO PITCH IN FOR NOTHING.....

poem by Linda I. Weischedel
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A Lonely Night

A lonely night,

just me and fog.

A crushing sound of barking dog.

A gental breeze now get a blame,

the candel cries, she lost the flame.

when the stars come for a treat of light.

some dreams knocked at the door of night,

now i am the king of my land,

a fairy comes and hold my hand.

we get together

and dance tonight

what a feeling!

is it called the love at site?

suddenly someone put break on my dreamy train,

street dogs are bark again.

now i returned in the real world

of a lonely night, fog and

some barking dog.

: -) adil khan

poem by Adil Khan
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Sunday Bloody Sunday

Well it was sunday bloody sunday
When they shot the people there
The cries of thirteen martyrs
Filled the free derry air
Is there any one amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
You claim to be majority
Well you know that its a lie
Youre really a minority
On this sweet emerald isle
When stormont bans our marches
Theyve got a lot to learn
Internment is no answer
Its those mothers turn to burn!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
You anglo pigs and scotties
Sent to colonize the north
You wave your bloody union jack
And you know what its worth!
How dare you hold to ransom
A people proud and free
Keep ireland for the irish
Put the english back to sea!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Well, its always bloody sunday
In the concentration camps
Keep falls road free forever
From the bloody english hands
Repatriate to britain
All of you who call it home
Leave ireland to the irish
Not for london or for rome!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!

song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vote for the Future of Big Bird

Please vote for the future of our children.
Vote to fund PBS, an oasis of knowledge, get even
On Election Day. Vote for Sesame Street,
Vote for Main Street, not Wall Street.
Vote for the re-election of the President,
Who supports student loans for our college students.
Vote for the man who is a strong proponent
Of investing in America, and in the future of our citizens.
The Hedge Fund Managers have sufficient money;
The wealthy ought to pay their fair share of taxes accordingly.
Vote for Big Bird and Main Street,
An tell Wall Street that the party is over,
No more business as usual; it is over.
Give a chance to Big Bird and Main Street.

poem by Hebert Logerie
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I Cast No Shadow

Sun is high I cast no shadow
for few brief moments I am pure.
My soul enters Eden's meadow
where once stood my progenitor.
A sinless psyche reveling
in a pre-transgression garden
thoroughly chaste is my being.
But now a penumbra widens
and a darkness within me grows
my pure essence is repossessed
replaced with subjective sorrow;
spiritualness dispossessed
by a shadow of damnation
and light my only salvation.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Train Of Gold

I saw her there from across the street, she was dressed in black
And when she moved she moved to a beat, like a cadillac
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
She was a woman of suspicious ways, never saw daylight
And in her room she sat and passed the days
And shed creep out at night
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Chorus: train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Looked through a window saw a velvet sky, a shade of green
A violin was playing soft and sweet, like it was a dream
She rode a train, train train train, a train of gold
Train of gold, train of gold
It took me so long to find out I was wrong
Now I wait for her in the night
Train of gold, train of gold
I dont believe her, it just couldnt be her
I cant get it out of my mind

song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whisper Quietly In The Night

See that man who sits there crying
in the corner down the street
his blankets of newspaper
and old slippers on his feet
he is one of the forgotten
who once had happy lives
but now one of the dispossessed
bereft of kids and wife
look closely at his countenance
his empty pleading stare
and whisper quietly in the night
thank god its not me there.

poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lies, Damned Lies And Statistics

World politicians adore the stat,
It can hide their lies in any format,
They can say we are now out of recession,
Despite the fact we're still in a depression.

What is this miracle we call the stat,
I hear you all ask what exactly is that,
Politicians will tell you that yes it's a fact,
If it's based on a stat then they will act.

They are the ultimate masters of the stat,
It can hide their deceit during a chat,
They truly are masters of their craft,
They'd have us believe that we're all daft.

Homes repossessed are contained in a stat,
Their figures are lower than we know they're at,
But the truth is different we're out on the street,
The fact is their stats are full of deceit.

Inflation is always contained in a stat,
They're as clear as treacle in a darkwood vat,
The prices we're paying are not as they seem,
Believe that if you like and let out a scream.

To believe what's contained within a stat,
You'd have to be a total prat,
While all of our lives are being enjoyed,
They can tell us nobody's unemployed.

The state of the world is based on a stat,
How many are thin how many are fat,
The information supplied is supposed to relieve,
Truth is none of it you can believe.

The way that they can present a stat,
Is a fish is a bird and a dog is a cat,
They're a strange way of saying all is well,
When truth is we're all heading for hell.

Whoever invented the bloody stat,
Was surely brought up as a spoiled brat,
Nothing better to do with their tedious life,
Than to devise a way of lying about life.

Facts just don't exist within a stat,
Or they could well show our world is flat,
This would have a terrible effect,
As quite frankly it's not politically correct.

Politicians couldn't live without their stat,
They'd be like a cricketer without his bat,
Without the stat their system dies,
Like them they're all based on lies.

But none of them care for they love the stat,
Though everyone else can smell a rat,
Stats tell them what they want to hear,
Like darkened glass they're crystal clear.

The fact is you can never believe a stat,
It's meant to beguile us it can wear any hat,
You'd retrieve more facts from a team of mystics,
Than you'd get from those,

‘' Lies, Damned Lies And Statistics ‘'

poem by Bri Mar
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

The 1%

Related quotes

Wall Street

The Wall Street Shuffle

The Truth!

How many lives to die

His Writings On The Wall

Mirror, Mirror, Bloody Fibber

Elephantine

How Little Money Buys

The Profiteers

There's Pain on the Faces

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Doing What - Money

A Lonely Night

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Vote for the Future of Big Bird

I Cast No Shadow

Train Of Gold

Whisper Quietly In The Night

Lies, Damned Lies And Statistics

En.Citatepedia^®.ro