Goddess of a New Civilization
She walks these ghetto streets
In refined silence—
The pimps, the drug lords,
And the assorted creeps
Cannot find an avenue
To loosen her lips
To hear her speak.
There’s misery around every corner,
Corpses from random drive-bys
Litter the boulevards like a parade,
There’s too much action
For the cops to discover a donut shop
In which to gather some peace and shade;
And in the midst of this,
Luna is the princess of the gangs
Gracing an invisible throne
In the violent kingdom of poverty.
Blood-red scarf around her throat,
Dangling golden earrings,
Pierced nose and tongue,
This is the goddess
Of a new civilization.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Related quotes
Tracing the Silhouette of Her Body in My Mind
What god has tossed my soul
Upon this stormy path
Of lonely longing unfulfilled?
I live incensed
At my own existence
Every sunset dusk
That she walks away
In another’s arms.
I drive furiously
The boulevards of jealousy
And weep on midnight streets
Of perfumed rejection
Lost in the fragrance
Of her scarf!
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Mother of Civilization
Her voice calm like a
Meditation of life's many troubled
All day's in demonstration unharm
Mother of civilization saying "people from
All races, religions walks of life in
It's strife "It was as the, she was looking
Though spiritual eye's of the present
Long ago "I know why a someone, out of
Every fun, would damage such pretty
Flowers, but in this world, there's lots of
People suffering because they don't understand
Life's process of maturing prior to their
Circumstances mentally, spiritually
Physically, due to modalities, of prayers
Is a power, that comes to all humans invisible
From the highest tower "it's frank, precisely
No bland" mother of civilization.
This isn't the house, Jack built this is my
House it was built, by God. "Many people
Are still grappling with old issues of evil
Random chance, illegal drugs where
Pestilence poverty is rampant. "Ghetto's
To educate young children for part of their
Lifetime their income including "Artificial
Intelligence evil remain with eternal
Question of faith, from a life of poverty
Crime, evil sin at random too unformed
Illiterate minds
In my home, I'm queen, my husband is king and our
Children is gift's from God said Mother of
Civilization ending her conversation.
poem by Henry Tolliver
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I wish I was a Donut
I wish I was a donut,
And got eaten everyday.
I could stick on someone’s fingers,
Squishy testy like cookie dough,
In a most delightful way,
So they wouldn’t mind.
I wish I was a donut,
Sugar coated just for fun,
To slide into your mouth, down your throat, and into your tummy.
I’m so tasty everyone would like me.
Pass me around or share me with your pale.
I wish I was a donut,
Filled with yummy cream,
I am sure you’ll enjoy me,
All you’ll hear is the sound of sucking me down,
Licking your lips and wanting more of me.
I’d be in the spot light,
The star of the show.
I wish I was a donut,
Deliciousness will fill your mouth,
And your taste buds will enter a moist smooth dream world,
After the first taste of me.
I would be candy to a cop,
And a surgery treat to a child.
I wish I was a donut,
Don’t you?
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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The Role Of Grief Via Silence....
for as long as grief
does not leave you
silence will always speak louder
than any
shouts of joy or whispers of romance
silence is that brick on the road
cars are disturbed by its red elegance
women find it not just for the house
little in-significances
life is more chiseled this time
refined garments
perfumed feet
shiny white fingernails
drops of rain beneath the soiled feet
for as long as grief hovers on
unrequited love
there will always be more to tell
not in words not in words
it is the silence
that dwells on the wounded lips
it is the silence
that creeps in the heart
deadens the tongue
glowing soul, winged spirit without wounds
now, pure joy like light dispersed
in black skies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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False Witness
The lips of joy,
The lips of understanding,
The lips of wisdom,
The lips of hope,
He who walks in uprightness shows the reverence of Yahweh.
Life in the midst of a throne,
Like he who sits upon the throne;
But your love is so sweet to my taste.
In all labour, there is gain;
But, mere talk leads to poverty.
The lips of love,
Knowledge comes to him who understands;
For we have heard a rumour about you but,
We will keep our peace on this matter.
Like a message to the wife of the dead,
Like a message to the husband of the dead,
Like a message to the daughter of the dead,
Like a message to the son of the dead,
And like the jewelry of a fine gold;
But, why is the world like this?
Like two blind men sitting by the wayside,
A truthful witness saves the lives of many!
But like the foal of a donkey,
A false witness is a betrayer! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Cops And Donuts
When I was on the freeway, doing 70 all drunk
A copper pulled me over, and I thought that I was sunk
He came up to my car, I thought up a little trick
I took a donut, jelly filled, and put it on a stick
He came up to my window, and shouted to get out
So I quickly took the donut and I shoved it in his mouth
So I drove away, he shouted for some more
So I threw it out the window and he ate it off the floor
Cops and donuts
Cops love donuts
Cops love donuts
Cops and donuts
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Streets Of Glory
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
Theres a city where the streets are paved in gold
A land where the milk and the honey flow
And a mansion which for me
cause my Bible tells the story
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Green meadows where the little children play
No sorrow there, just one long happy day
And none will litter there except the pure and the holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, I walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, Ill walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until
fallow ground...
lips tremor, speaking nothing
in the language of false gods.
there can be no healing
until you see the disease,
smell the rotting flesh....
until the souls of the invisible
gather around you, and
you take your self back in.
until the words you speak
are built on action wrapped
in the forms of compassion....
until you ask forgiveness
of the mountains, the rivers,
and the sky.... until...
you nurse the baby at
your own breasts... until
you wash your hands in
the blood of the innocents.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Beautiful River
And he showed me a pure River of Water of Life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the Throne of God and of the Lamb." -- Rev. xxii. 1
Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod;
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?
CHORUS.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the margin of the river,
Washing up its silver spray,
We will walk and worship ever,
All the happy, golden day.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
On the bosom of the river,
Where the Saviour-king we own,
We shall meet, and sorrow never
'Neath the glory of the throne. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Ere we reach the shining river,
Lay we every burden down;
Grace our spirits will deliver,
And provide a robe and crown. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
At the smiling of the river,
Rippling with the Saviour's face,
Saints, whom death will never sever,
Lift their songs of saving grace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
Soon we'll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace. Cho.
Yes, we'll gather at the river,
The beautiful, the beautiful river --
Gather with the saints at the river
That flows by the throne of God.
poem by Robert Wadsworth Lowry
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50 Cent
'I will kill you like a snake',
'I will roast you like a chicken',
'I will fry you like a plantain',
So roll, roll, roll your boat when,
You have a killer gun in your pocket.
I was born in the ghetto,
With the status of poverty without a fish;
I was taught in the ghettto,
With much tears than hope;
I was brought up in the ghetto,
Without the Statue of Liberty to salute;
So roll your boat with the gun in your pocket but,
Who is ther to cover up your actions?
I was taught in a mud-house,
Without slippers on my feet;
That's the kind of society i cam from.
I had my education on the streets with,
Fights, Hunger and Starvation to crown the day;
But your killer gun in your pocket will,
Give you up one day.
Taught by the street lived by the streets,
Learned by the streets and loved by the streets,
Married by the street and of the cluster of a phobia!
But this way was part of my maturity;
That is why i do not respect the gun in your pocket.
Stealing and looting and of the plans to make the move,
But as a Human-Being who lives on 50 Cent a day!
Oh life in the ghetto,
And with the status of poverty without a fish;
But just roll your boat with a merry on your face,
For life to me was just like the mountain of snakes!
Oh life's fair fountain that eluded me,
Stealing and looting and of the plans to make it work always;
But i was just living on 50 Cent a day!
Joy to me was like the roasting of a chicken and,
Hope to me was like the killing of a rabbit;
And of an excellent value for many when one dies,
But peace to me was like the frying of plantains.
We still have leaders ruling us but,
We were still mulling to make a case like a courageous leader;
But to live on 50 Cent a day in the ghetto was all that we have,
And of the cluster of a phobia of things around us!
Life in the ghetto and living on 50 Cent a day,
It was like life on the run with the bullets behind us;
And at times it was like the straw on a camel's back,
With the negativity of life to meet all the time!
Like the golden cup whose shock aroused,
We were just living to survive;
Like half-naked young lovers who called for help,
When one equals to a temper of heroic hearts;
Life in the ghetto,
But all along i do manage with 50 Cent a day!
For the peace of one's mind was with questions all the time.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The old interests of aristocracy - the romance of action, the exalted passions of chivalry and war - faded into the background, and their place was taken by the refined and intimate pursuits of peace and civilization.
quote by Lytton Strachey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City Nocturne
'Where there is no peace, there is no light.' Thomas Merton. Honorable Reader: Reflections on My Work
I dwell in city nights
hear cars cruising
down streets
streaming confusion
whispering,
boulevards of light
stunted lanes,
high-
wire siren, stunned
shot-
finders, tense
dispatchers rolling
black and whites,
ambulance
coroner's wagon
while laughing,
from theatre emerging,
from restaurant and bar
unaware, we swarm
through rivers of blood
to black cars, crush
of silent plush
power windows up
lock the doors
and slowly drive
through those
shimmering
terrible,
beautiful
streets.
poem by Steven Federle
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Easter Parade
In your easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it,
Youll be the grandest lady in the easter parade.
Ill be all in clover and when they look you over,
Ill be the proudest fellow in the easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue, the photographers will snap us,
And youll find that youre in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet about your easter bonnet,
And of the girl Im taking to the easter parade.
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steal Away
Is just that ghetto ghetto
Ghetto ghetto
Is just that ghetto ghetto
Ghetto ghetto
We still ghetto ghetto
Ghetto ghetto
I've been thinkin lately baby
Maybe we should layin tonight
I would ?? paper was crazy
Music if is wrong I feel this right
Maybe we can make sweet love
Cause I know we feel so good
And more of two we escape this pressure
You know what? We should
Steal away
song performed by by Mary J Blige from No More Drama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Triple Homicide
I'm glad the fighting's stopped
the house is silent
empty
this is how I like it
no yelling
no fights
no broken glass
silence
when they're both gone I'm happy
but when they come home
I go straight to my room
I try to be quiet
as I listen to music in the closet
the fight begins
there screaming
this time I hear my name
I ignore it
not wanting to join the fight
my dad bursts in yelling for me
my window left open he screams
he thinks I'm gone
I thought quickly
as my mom ran in
silence
silence
silence
my dad yells again
at my crying mom
I cry silently
as she's pulled from the room
screaming
I hear a gunshot and I jump
grabbing a pocket knife
from my jacket
the cries stop
then another shot
a loud thump
as a body falls
I climb out of the closet
knife in hand
blood pouring out my
parents bedroom door
silence
I open the door and see two
bodies on the floor
a gun in my father's hand
silence
silence
silence
then sirens
and cops coming around the corner
so I take the gun from my dad
hold it to my head
a loud pop
then
silence
silence
silence
t he cops would
call this a triple homicide
or double homicide and suicide
but I call this
a family
who needed help
poem by No Reason To Care
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Taste
Intro: Violent J
The Time has come for the blood to run into
the streets paved with gold
We have lived in the zoo of the ghetto for so
long
And like animals we kill each other for the
hatred of others
We must move into the suburbs and punish the
rich for their ignorance
For the horror of death
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse from Carnival Of Carnage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gamalakhe
Mouths smelling of alcohol
Ja, westernization has taken it’s toll
Brothers with dashed dreams on the corner
Sometimes you just can’t take it any longer
You say “The ghetto made me violent, the ghetto made me a tyrant”
I say your biggest demons are the lust for getting a quick fix and being ignorant
Benzene, glue and tick decrease your IQ below average
Your anger and rage is making you act like a savage
Brother, you’re a statistic,
The butt of a joke for the stereotypic
I know poverty is a killer
Brother, I hope the hardship doesn’t kill ya
But I saw you wasted, smelling of booze, wearing designer clothes that looked so old
Thinking, the night has never been so cold
poem by Mthoko Mpofana
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Speak... Or Else Be Silent!
if you must speak,
speak not of distance or seperation!
speak without claiming identity,
without shouting, 'self'!
speak without grasping,
clawing, and holding.
keep your judgements to yourself!
i dont need to know the color of your god,
or what war you say he was born during.
i am more refugee than disciple,
i will not follow!
speak not of streets of gold
where angels play harps!
let us speak of these streets...
hard and raw, struggling and fighting,
dimly lit, stinking of urine.
littered with the trash of human lives.
speak of the exploding flash we call moment,
and the kingdom of heaven
that sweats and bleeds!
speak of the cries of the children!
speak of hunger and poverty,
injustices, and the cry for equality!
speak of the god that inhabits
the bodies of the lost and oppressed,
their faces etched by human cruelty...
scarred by apathy and indifference.
speak the truth!
bark like a dog,
meow like a cat,
chirp like a sparrow,
beat rhythm with your wings!
speak living words....
or else be silent!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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In Your Goodness
you sit alone on your lonely throne
the kingdom that they do not see
inside the castle of your virtues
you are silent
on another weary day
the good deeds you have done
the charity of your touch
and sharing of your soul
your working hands
the ideals in your mind
somehow in your humanity
you begin to ask
what do you get in return?
you do not want to say it
you refuse to think
about this capacity
this choice for goodness
there is no waiting for
honor and glory
nothing in return
you have done what it takes
to be good and kind
and humble and meek
and forgiving
you are alone
you are rare
you sit in this throne of
loneliness
in the secret castle
of your virtues
in the midst of silence however
you hear the dance of small feet
it is your heart
still jumping of joy
in your tiredness
you almost miss hearing
the sounds of small joys
the dance of life
inside you
you sleep soundly
after a prayer tonight
tomorrow you still have
other good things to do
for the greater glory of God
thru man in his poverty
and his wretchedness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Walk These Streets Alone
I walk these streets alone why U ask, because that's all i know and the reason i'm so ignorant is because him always on the go
I walk these streets alone meeting customer after customer getting in and out of random cars
I walk these streets alone as if the streets are empty as i go on my devilish duty.
I walk these streets alone clueless to the danger surrounding me, as if him invisible to any danger.
I walk the streets alone as if every person i meet sees me as a stranger.
I walk these streets alone, as sad as it may seem i prefer my own company but at times i still get lonely.
I walk these streets alone but don't feel sorry for me, for i know what i'm getting myself into. and i know the consequences if i get caught
I walk these streets alone regardless of what I've been taught...
poem by Leon Scott
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