Irish Potato Blight
Dying with green mouths
starving eating green grass.
Famine scavenge food coastal equalled
subsistence cursed evermore sea food.
Starvation was annihilation
of many Irish who never fled.
English took livestock for taxes unpaid
left starving tenant farmers for dead.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Irish Potato Blight Death Taxed
Dying with green mouthes
eating green grass.
Famine food equalled
cursed evermore sea food.
Starvation was annihilation
of many families who never fled.
British took household herds
for taxes left farmers for dead.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Green Above The Red
Full often when our fathers saw the Red above the Green,
They rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike and scian,
And over many a noble town, and many a field of dead,
They proudly set the Irish Green above the English Red.
But in the end throughout the land, the shameful sight was seen-
The English Red in triumph high above the Irish Green;
But well they died in breach and field, who, as their spirits fled,
Still saw the Green maintain its place above the English Red.
And they who saw, in after times, the Red above the Green
Were withered as the grass that dies beneath a forest screen;
Yet often by this healthy hope their sinking hearts were fed,
That, in some day to come, the Green should flutter o'er the Red.
Sure 'twas for this Lord Edward died, and Wolfe Tone sunk serene-
Because they could not bear to leave the Red above the Green;
And 'twas for this that Owen fought, and Sarsfield nobly bled-
Because their eyes were hot to see the Green above the Red.
So when the strife began again, our darling Irish Green
Was down upon the earth, while high the English Red was seen;
Yet still we held our fearless course, for something in us said,
'Before the strife is o'er you'll see the Green above the Red.'
And 'tis for this we think and toil, and knowledge strive to glean,
That we may pull the English Red below the Irish Green,
And leave our sons sweet Liberty, and smiling plenty spread
Above the land once dark with blood-the Green above the Red!
The jealous English tyrant now has banned the Irish Green,
And forced us to conceal it like a something foul and mean;
But yet, by Heavens! he'll sooner raise his victims from the dead
Than force our hearts to leave the Green, and cotton to the Red!
We'll trust ourselves, for God is good, and blesses those who lean
On their brave hearts, and not upon an earthly king or queen;
And, freely as we lift our hands, we vow our blood to shed
Once and for evermore to raise the Green above the Red.
poem by Thomas Davis
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The Green Above The Red
AIR--_Irish Molly O!_
I.
Full often when our fathers saw the Red above the Green,
They rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike and _scian_,
And over many a noble town, and many a field of dead,
They proudly set the Irish Green above the English Red.
II.
But in the end throughout the land, the shameful sight was seen--
The English Red in triumph high above the Irish Green;
But well they died in breach and field, who, as their spirits fled,
Still saw the Green maintain its place above the English Red.
III.
And they who saw, in after times, the Red above the Green
Were withered as the grass that dies beneath a forest screen;
Yet often by this healthy hope their sinking hearts were fed,
That, in some day to come, the Green should flutter o'er the Red.
IV.
Sure 'twas for this Lord Edward died, and Wolfe Tone sunk serene--
Because they could not bear to leave the Red above the Green;
And 'twas for this that Owen fought, and Sarsfield nobly bled--
Because their eyes were hot to see the Green above the Red.
V.
So when the strife began again, our darling Irish Green
Was down upon the earth, while high the English Red was seen;
Yet still we held our fearless course, for something in us said,
'Before the strife is o'er you'll see the Green above the Red.'
VI.
And 'tis for this we think and toil, and knowledge strive to glean,
That we may pull the English Red below the Irish Green,
And leave our sons sweet Liberty, and smiling plenty spread
Above the land once dark with blood--_the Green above the Red_!
VII.
The jealous English tyrant now has banned the Irish Green,
And forced us to conceal it like a something foul and mean;
But yet, by Heavens! he'll sooner raise his victims from the dead
Than force our hearts to leave the Green, and cotton to the Red!
VIII.
We'll trust ourselves, for God is good, and blesses those who lean
On their brave hearts, and not upon an earthly king or queen;
And, freely as we lift our hands, we vow our blood to shed
Once and for evermore to raise the Green above the Red.
poem by Thomas Osborne Davis
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They are starving for happiness
They are starving for happiness
Their belly is full of mess
Joy is their food
Without it their dead
Starving all way of hunger
Cry in every saw they looked
Fingers are in cold, shivering
They are starving for happiness
Mind looked in every crying eye
Drops let fall. As they saw
No mistakes done, no wonder
They are starving for happiness
Open hair, all scenes amazing
No soft blow of air, nothing
They can’t survive more
They are starving for happiness
Heart full of sorrows, no glow
Hands red, can’t move long
Lot of hunger, full of blood
They are starving for happiness
poem by Monica kulal
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Land Grievances
Get in line. Young Maori. Get in line.
Death Death March legally signed
before young Maori intensely pined.
Killed was ancient ancestral spirit
cleaving Celtic Isle mist lost lands.
Butchered guttered tie affixed lost
birthright mystic Celtic legendary lands.
Blood washed uprooted cast out are clans
purged from beloved Celtic ancestral lands.
Umbilical cord was cut brutally severed
with stealing steal tongue beastly fire.
For more sheep landlord pasture profit
Scottish smashed in are cottages homes.
Flocks free bleating beasts tended roam
rule ruined outcast vacated ghost villages.
Starvation claims sickening women children
destitute dying in London’s stinking slums.
Scottish men die dye red ranging regiments
across stolen globe with British firing guns.
Scottish bag-pipes screaming brave Scotsmen heard
wounds silhouette bleeding sunset blood-red suns.
In Ireland peasants dye starvation stained
with green mouths on bitter famine food.
Eating grass inland coastal eating seaweed
bounty stock free for rash starved Irish peasants.
British blight plague infests deflowered land
bloated corpses manure pastures Irish rued.
Providential not pestilent genocide inflicting Ireland;
English lords taxing life breath to death never sued.
Sweeping rubble rabble forth dark memories purge
upon ship passage exiles permanently migration move.
Homeland is lost family plot burial land
countless wakes memories survivors ban.
Get in line. Young Maori. Get in line.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Overweight with Food
Are you just a tub of lard and
Vastly overweight?
Do you think that when you die you'll
Need a piano crate
To act as coffin for your frame? -
Chosen as you die in shame, with
Only you to take the blame
For years of eating much the same:
A daily calorific fest
Gourmands of your ilk digest!
Is your heart in final fling and
Nearly set to burst?
Are your arteries bunged and clogged and
Feeling now the worst
For wear? - your aneurysm fit to blow
While blood as thick as rising dough
Cries 'Halt! ' to any hope of flow:
A dreadful state to put on show
In front of any nurse!
Best you hail a hearse.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
Oh! Food food food food food food food foooooood!
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Syrup Sponge
Pour a pint of cream
Upon my spongy bulge!
Scoop me with a
Hefty spoon;
Taste my essence -
Do you swoon?
Feed your self-esteem; indulge
In me until you burst -
Death by syrup sponge - you're cursed!
And as the count in inches gain
Upon your weary waist, the strain
Will tell, but you'll not care -
Steeped in sponge, you're unaware!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food
food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Doubtful
Early,
It is one,
Forbidden food in heaven.
Later,
Too many forbidden food,
In earth.
Now,
They are coming everywhere,
In every action of life,
With every mind that come as devil,
This is all devil foods.
I am afraid of eating the devil foods,
If I eat, I am not dying,
But I am going to hell
If I let they go,
They flies away with the angel wings
And I am starving to death,
Doing nothing.
poem by Chandra Yusuf
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Transfixed
A Dior-clad skeleton, lipstick perfect,
brilliant specimen advertising disaster
relief while illustrating famine effects
A self-centred fashion icon starving to
death in an attempt to stay fatally slim
dying in two or three weeks at least
Keeping to a masochistic regime, she
shall be dead soon; I stare transfixed
such a fate could never befall me
I top up all ‘faux pas’ in food intolerance
management diet by adding more food-
stuffs to keep liver and kidneys busy
Leaving insufficient time to process the
allergens, lessening physical and
emotional distress
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Many people in the world today are not starving because there is an inherent inability to produce food, they are starving because they are caught in the middle of political fights and blockades that have been used as weapons.
quote by Ralph Merkle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solidarity Song
Peoples of the world, together
Join to serve the common cause!
So it feeds us all for ever
See to it that it's now yours.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
Black or white or brown or yellow
Leave your old disputes behind.
Once start talking with your fellow
Men, you'll soon be of one mind.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
If we want to make this certain
We'll need you and your support.
It's yourselves you'll be deserting
if you rat your own sort.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
All the gang of those who rule us
Hope our quarrels never stop
Helping them to split and fool us
So they can remain on top.
Forward, without forgetting
Where our strength can be seen now to be!
When starving or when eating
Forward, not forgetting
Our solidarity!
Workers of the world, uniting
Thats the way to lose your chains.
Mighty regiments now are fighting
That no tyrrany remains!
Forward, without forgetting
Till the concrete question is hurled
When starving or when eating:
Whose tomorrow is tomorrow?
And whose world is the world?
poem by Bertolt Brecht
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I Can't Pretend That I Am Your Superman
I can pretend that I am your
Superman
Because the poor people in our community
Is starving and I need to give them a helping hand
By sharing some of my food with them
I can pretend that I am your superman
Even though we are wasting so much food
That could easily feed the entire community
And it is shame on us
Because we don't think of the others that are poor
In our communities that are starving and living
On the streets of our community
poem by Aldo Kraas
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It Is A Bleak Season For Farmers
It is a bleak Season for farmers with climate change and livestock prices down
Some of them have sold what they can sell and moved to live and to find jobs in the town
For many of them the rains have come too late climate change affecting everywhere
Global warming is in every Country in the bigger World out there
Some arrogant Humans think they can control Nature how come they have got it so wrong
How egotistical they must be for to think they can control the one we to belong
For we too are a part of Nature as much as her creatures of sea and of land
And she will always be our master though some that do not understand
Many farmers due to climate change the land are leaving and that seems a sad thing to say
With less farmers less food in the supermarket but the wealthy they will be okay
For a farm food scarcity means higher food prices but for food they can afford for to pay
'Tis the poor will be condemned to suffer in times of food scarcity 'tis always this way
It is a bleak Season for farmers and that is a sad thing to hear
And for the have nots of the World it looks like another bleak year.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Heart Bleeds (98)
I fancy I can hear the sufferers moaning
The starving woman and the dying man
The malnourished children with the hunger blown pot bellies
My heart bleeds for the people of Sudan.
But these people they need far more than sympathy
They need food and care and medicine right away
They have eaten the seeds that they had to be planted
And hundreds die of hunger every day.
For life's small blessings I ought to be thankful
For I am one who doesn't have cause for moan
Compared to many I feel very privileged
The pangs of hunger I have never known.
One of my neighbours never stops complaining
He grumbles by life he is hard done by
But he looks overweight from over eating
And of malnutrition he will never die.
And another I know he tried to take his own life
Because his girlfriend left him he is in despair
I feel more pity for those dying of hunger
For a broken heart is not beyond repair.
In a Land ravaged by disease drought and hunger
To live to thirty years seen as a lengthy span
And my sympathy is with the starving millions
The hungry and the homeless of Sudan.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hard To Swallow
We eat to live
We eat to grow
We eat to endulge ourselves,
In the greatness of food
We eat to provide comfort
We eat to be accepted
We eat as it is part,
Of our lives
Food comes in all different forms,
Shapes and sizes
It can be a bean as small as a nail
Or a christmas turkey the size of a horse
Food is a necessity
Food is a way of life
Food is enjoyed
Food is loved
But for some,
Food is despised
Eating brings pain
Eating brings weight
Eating brings illness
Eating brings hate
Eating means endless pain
A pain that wont stop,
Until the food inside,
Is forced out
Eating means weight gain and hurt
So,
It's best not to eat at all
The aching pain of hunger drifts away,
With several ibuprofein.
The battle with food is a constant struggle
To overcome the eating disorder
To take one bite,
And Swallow!
poem by Chris jones
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Sorcerer's soppy land!
A famine is a widespread scarcity of food. This phenomenon is usually accompanied or followed by regional malnutrition, starvation, epidemic, and increased mortality.
Emergency measures in relieving famine primarily include providing deficient micronutrients, such as vitamins and minerals, through fortified sachet powders or directly through supplements. The famine relief model increasingly used by aid groups calls for giving cash or cash vouchers to the hungry to pay local farmers instead of buying food from donor countries, often required by law, as it wastes money on transport costs.Long-term measures include investment in modern agriculture techniques, such as fertilizers and irrigation, which largely eradicated hunger in the developed world. World Bank strictures restrict government subsidies for farmers, and increasing use of fertilizers is opposed by some environmental groups because of its unintended consequences: adverse effects on water supplies and habitat
I sowed some other land
And he has taken the reap?
I left aside
With empty hands
And the fertilizer
Gone with the wind!
*for my Historian friend Raj Nandy
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Shortage
No food, water or food,
This is a Shortage.
Most dead from starvation,
Some from disorganised pyjamas.
Not folded, creased or pizza.
No house to cook the air.
Right about now some food would be nice,
'I can't' He said, i ate all the rice.
poem by Lawrie Stuart Ronton
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Irish
St. Patrick's day is with us,
The day when all that's seen
From right and left
And everywhere is green, green, green.
I'll wear an Irish shamrock
In my coat the glad day through,
For my mother and Grandma are Irish,
And I am half way Irish, too!
poem by Autumn Howard
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Salad is Incompatible with Life
Yes, my waist is fifty inches -
Big for me because I'm short.
And yes, I like my cheddar cheese
When partnered with a vintage port.
Okay, okay, that double cream
Is always served with pud,
And cake and biscuits with my tea
Are just no bloody good
For my poor hardened arteries,
But see my point of view,
Please dear wifey if you please,
A Salad makes me spew!
I'd rather eat a bowl of air
Than crunch away on greens;
Drink water from the toilet bowl
Or nibble on my jeans!
But salad! Are you there?
You know it makes me snappy -
So let me fill my face with grub,
Stay fat, and die young happy!
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
food food food food food food food food food
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Vacant And Cold!
are we then human?
what does that entail?
we light our cigarettes
off the heads of starving children,
drink wine made from
the blood of dead soldiers.
even our gods see through colored lenses!
afraid of the truth,
we chip away at the stone.
turning off our lights to undress.
perfumed by the scent of dead animals,
shamed by the stink of human need!
'Jesus died for our sins...'
we hold our sins close
as the price of oil!
eating multi-lingual tacos and rice,
we chase His brother across the border
on a migrant worker's pay!
may our food rot in our mouths!
our cars up on race divided blocks.
our daughters run with the wolves,
chasing the shadow of the refugee!
the kingdom of heaven uninhabited,
the house of prejudice, vacant and cold!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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