High Heels On The Muddy Roads...
Imported car, just delivered,
to the door step, but splashed,
with mud and the colors of ignorance,
of people who live in tolerance.
Take a drive on these roads,
full of pot holes and dust,
with the foul smell of decays,
worse than the shed of animals.
Having a presidential palace,
Having a palatial parliament,
Having the generous politicians,
doing nothing to this appearance.
Poor people walk day and night,
having a destination in their mind,
at least a meal for the family,
at least some peace in harmony.
Open your eyes, stupid politicians,
of all third world countries,
wake up from your self made slumber,
of having that complex attitude.
How much you earn,
How rich you are,
You, rich and powerful,
still live in awful.
breathing the dirty polluted air,
traveling on the rickety roads,
your imported cars of million dollars,
decorated with spit and mud splatter.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Who Is Rich?
I strive to be rich,
to travel on the roads,
of the capital cities,
in Sedan or limousine.
I work hard to be rich,
to find a lot in Beverly hills,
to buy an aircraft and
a hover to fly and float.
I work day and half night,
to be rich to others sight,
to smoke a cigar of an inch,
and a few girls to pinch.
scanty girls of Los vegas,
dress up, for a living,
trendy sad faced Indians,
walk alone for a living.
I want to be rich,
traveling as a rat,
through the holes of,
capital cities.
She wants to be rich,
He wants to be rich and
we want to be rich, but
people call us rich.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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No Access To Fast Food, Branded Clothes And
The creation of nations,
that have passion,
for money and power,
is the absolute poverty.
Not having the access,
to shelter, food and clothing,
to have a healthy living.
Fifteen percent Americans,
fall under poverty line,
and they earn,
less than,
ONLY 22K American dollar,
per year.
In other parts of the world,
people live,
in appropriate poverty,
and they live on,
2 dollars a day,
six hundred dollars a year,
five people can eat,
have shelter and simple clothing,
still they are healthy.
slim and fit.
Europeans are clever,
to make the people to believe,
that they are poor,
earning only 800 Euro a month,
Which is above,
the average annual income,
of many developing nations,
where people have,
no access to any wealth and health.
All of us stay in the same earth,
but the value of properties,
and the rental acquired,
through the properties,
differ substantially.
Politicians of the poor nations,
have abysmal knowledge on economics.
To be a rich nation,
we should have values,
but these clowns are short sighted,
to look at the value,
of their own properties!
Do not say that they are poor,
because the term poor itself,
will be ashamed,
for using its credibility,
for wrong purpose.
Please do not call them poor,
when the nations are able to provide them,
the food, shelter and health care.
Find a suitable word,
and leave the poor alone,
who have no access,
to any of these comforts on their own,
and their nations,
are unable to provide them,
the access to the comfort.
Reason for writing this poem.
The feelings of the poor are the same through out the world, irrespective of the countries that they are staying, but the proper definition for poverty should be clarified before classifying the people as poor, which means the poor of one country may be considered as the rich in another country. Then what is the real meaning for poverty?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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My Birthday Wishes
I can't believe time goes by so fast.
I'm 28 years old in November and finally
I have wishes to God that I'd like to pray.
I thank God for the gift of life.
My mind, ears, and eyes are open wide
Because of His unwavering support and guide.
I know I can never repay His greatest love.
I wish to live in a peaceful world
Where I have nothing to fear.
I wish to see my children playing,
Smiling, kissing, and hugging each other.
I'm quite nervous about the world today.
People have no money and getting hungry.
The poor people are becoming poorer
While the rich are becoming richer.
I wish to have justice for all people.
No more criminals and victims of crime
For the world to live in harmony and peace.
In silent prayers,
I thank God for the answers
To my birthday wishes.
poem by Alon Calinao Dy
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Politicians Vavroovahana Patra
Politicians exploit the people of the country;
Hoarding money, remain in palatial building with delight.
Poor people die with plight;
Politicians say India is a country of prosperity.
Without providing food to the poor entertain day and night;
Do not feel all are sons and daughters of Almighty.
Widow laments for food day and night;
The family remain in hunger with plight.
Politicians forget their ideology of sacrifice;
Remain away Divine Bliss.
Entangle in bribe and corruption;
Enhance society’s tension.
A good politician thinks upliftment of society;
Derives peace observing poorman’s smile and delight.
A good politician derives peace serving the patient;
Lives in peace with merriment.
Good politician is blessed with Divine power;
God blesses him with peace, pleasure.
Service to human beings is service to Divinity;
All are sons and daughters of the same Almighty.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The same people live...the same people die
The same people live, the same people die,
the same people laugh, the same people cry,
as they push on through, life's open door,
the old and the young, the rich and the poor.
The same people love, the same people hate,
the skeptics of heaven, the mockers of fate,
some use the gun, some just don't choose,
the proud and the vain, they win and they lose.
Death takes them all, the end's all the same,
no one can help us, cause no one's to blame,
When the door shuts and the bright lights go dim,
We all follow the same path and we all go to Him.
The same people live, the same people die,
Some still find wealth, while others get by,
the weak and the strong, the slow and the fast,
alone on life's journey, they all stumble past.
It's been this way, since the beginning of time,
To live...it's a joy, to die...it's a crime,
and still, we question and still, we ask why?
The same people live...the same people die.
poem by David Lessard
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Jail Cells, And Poverty!
do jail cells demand certain colors?
do they smell like poverty?
are they the colleges of the hopeless?
or just a place to hide the fire
till the flame goes out?
does anybody want to be poor?
does anyone deserve to be poor?
who picks the judge?
who enforces the law...
the law passed by filthy rich politicians?
is God white?
how about Jesus or Buddha?
does He live in the suburbs?
what kind of car does He drive?
does He have servants of different colors?
and what is the final price of freedom?
not to mention equality,
and equal distribution of goods...
'red, yellow, black, and white...'
every color of poverty sucks!
whether man or woman,
young, old, or a child...
no human being was meant to be owned!
forced poverty and justice prejudiced
by color or economic stations...
are the last forms of slavery!
what will you do when
the oppressed rise as one,
and put you in the cells you built?
what will you learn,
what will you know?
and what will you smell like?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Poor Villagers
Though god has given many good things
but deprived from most civic facilities.
Can't have good school and hospital
to get employment least opportunity.
No access to technological development
roads and transport quality very poor.
Half of government budget for projects
simply becomes corruption's devour.
Natural resources are captured by rich
social resources by bureau- political people.
Legal system is petite before politicians
system is succumbed before influential.
In under developed countries, the villager's
meagre earning and poor living condition
looks they're waiting in halfway houses
yet to begin process of social integration.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Ewe
One little ewe lamb was walking along the street,
But two types people do live on this earth;
And i made up my mind to walk closer and look,
For the rich and the poor were there too.
Oh! I saw the little ewe lamb;
And like the poor man's sorrow and the rich man's laughter,
But let us lead this little ewe lamb to find its way home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Praying That It Stays
There is nothing like witnessing to experience,
A people living in an environment who have been convinced...
Ignorance and subservience is theirs to defend.
With an advocating of it that will not see an end.
And praying that it stays to forever exist the way it is.
There is nothing like listening to a sermon delivered,
From a pulpit where a minister behind it sits...
After preaching to receive applause and lots of it.
To remind those who sat but now on their feet...
How remaining down to Earth to 'him' this pleases.
There is nothing like witnessing to experience,
A people living in an environment who have been convinced...
Ignorance and subservience is theirs to defend.
And many wishing to be 'Back Home' again.
To walk those rural roads bare foot to visit neighbors.
There is nothing like listening to a sermon delivered,
From a pulpit where a minister behind it sits...
After preaching to receive applause and lots of it.
To then drive away in a recently purchased Mercedes.
To live in comfort and tax free; rewarded for a job well done.
There is nothing like witnessing to experience,
A people living in an environment who have been convinced...
Ignorance and subservience is theirs to defend.
And the only thing that is wished,
Is that their children remember from where it is they came.
And proud they would be of them if they did the same.
'Why are you so critical of the people? '
~Oh...?
So what I observe is NOT accepted? ~
'It's the heritage and the culture,
They wish kept preserved.'
~I see.
How stupid of me to view it any other way.
And here I am thinking all of this,
Has no historic value to them that benefits.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poor villager
Though god has given some good things
but deprived from most civic facilities.
Can't have good school and hospital
to get employment least opportunity.
No access to technological development
roads and transport quality very poor.
Half of government budget for projects
simply becomes corruption's devour.
Natural resources are captured by rich
social resources by bureau- political people.
Legal system is petite before politicians
system is succumbed before influential.
In under developed countries, the villager's
meagre earning and poor living condition
looks they're waiting in halfway houses
yet to begin process of social integration.
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Stop Acting! We Have Issues To Address!
More than hundred million of our people,
Live in luxury. The luxury you can't find in any castle,
Of a European country, as the labor law is strict there,
Here in my father's land India, abused are our workers,
Who can work nonstop for the peanut salaries and old clothes,
Modern day slaves bend their heads to the floor,
Most of them not protected against ills and injuries,
Mansions and factories filled with cheap laborers,
Where the dogs are well fed, cared and have a clean place,
To call it their home, but the children of our brothers,
Have waited silently for a new dawn for many years,
During the visit of our ministers, our roads are spotless,
During inspection days, everything is kept in order to impress,
During the arrival of foreign dignitaries, the dramas enacted,
To show the prosperity of the poverty stricken political ideology,
When climb down the steps of the red carpeted,
Pathway of the airplane staircases, everyone with a nose,
Can smell the decaying of the uncollected rubbish,
Few kilometers away, the sides of the modern and old roads occupied,
By the homeless, who have nothing to say it their own,
Except the poverty that is nurtured in the hearts of poverty,
Which in turn disperse the seeds of poverty everywhere,
Through dirty wind, water and land agents, here
Seven hundred million live in poverty and another three hundred,
Try to act neither as rich nor as poor, but as a middle class.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Rich Music
Rich music like the morning sun, showers us with tender love
Touching our dear lives with so much tenderness to be won.
Rich music spreads peace right across the air like a gentle dove,
So that we can feel the need to live together as one.
Rich music fills the whole place with sounds of harmony above
That we can live in the world, so pleasant and filled with fun.
Rich music gives notes on how we can handle the inside of
Ourselves, so that we can live to shine like the sun.
Rich music tells how we can give our illness a good shove,
So that all the good we bring into our lives can be done.
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
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All Live In Peace And Harmony
As the world goes spinning round
And enerything seems upside down
There isn't any organisation any more
Is nothing everlasting, must we live for just today
Can no-one find the answer, to help in any way
It's just a mixture of joy and sorrow
Of laughter, and of tears
Do we just dream about tomorrow
And about the future years
But the world would be a better place to live in
If everybody just made up their minds
Then we could all live in peace and harmony again
Yes we should all live in peace, and harmony again
Why can't we all live in peace, and harmony again
We should all live in peace, and harmony
poem by Vance Freeman
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Foreign aid might be defined as a transfer of money from poor people in rich countries to rich people in poor countries.
quote by Doug Casey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alcoholism In Tamil Nadu, S.India
How to send them to school clean and tidy,
When they have to pass through the muddy roads,
All politicians of my country should walk on this path,
Before they go to the state assembly and Parliament,
Let them teach us how they keep their white shoes, white,
Let them teach us how to carry these bags in rain, not wet,
Let them teach us how to survive with rationed food and water,
Let them go through all these hardship to develop this country,
But most of them have gone through what we go through,
But they forget the past and seek the friendship of rich and high,
Half of my countrymen are dirt poor and dirtier than dirt,
Even in their new clothes they wear once in many blue moon year,
Our children are malnourished and their medicines are stolen,
The milk is adulterated, the medicines are adulterated,
What is not adulterated where the poor men buy from,
Intelligent people are serving themselves in fine dining,
While my poor countrymen drink and save the revenue,
For the state government, Let our men be the alcoholics,
Let our women suffer, Let our children starve and spoil,
Let the government of Tamil Nadu, prosper in distillery.
Shame on everyone who can think for others, not for their own.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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My America
My America, was such a great place
We had lofty ideals, and saving grace
Everyone lived, within their means
This was America, in my teens
Gas was cheap, and so were bills
And always a little bit, for some frills
Corporations weren't, quite so greedy
Very few people, were really needy
This was America, before her fall
What caused the fall, I can't recall
Was it politicians, that caused all this?
Or imported oil, that ruined our bliss?
Now very few people, really live well
Only the elite, from what I can tell
My America, Where did you go?
The one that's left, I barely know
Barry Jablonski
©2012 All Rights Reserved
poem by Barry Jablonski
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Cars Are Cars
Words & music by paul simon 1983
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Similarly made. similarly sold
In a motorcade. abandoned when theyre old
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Engine in the front. jack in the back
Wheels take the brunt. pinion and a rack
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
But people are strangers
They change with the curve
From time zone to time zone
As we can observe
They shut down their borders
And think theyre immune
They stand on their differences
And shoot at the moon
But cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Drive em on the left. drive em on the right
Susceptible to theft in the middle of the night
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
I once had a car
That was more like a home
I lived in it, loved in it
Polished its chrome
If some of my homes
Had been more like my car
I probably wouldnt have
Travelled this far
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cry for PEACE
What a world we live in. Crazy as it sounds to begin. So much to learn, so much to see, what life is to be. Hungry souls, crawl the streets, some are rich as its meant to be.
God made us all equal yet we have discrimination. Sex, Love, Hate and Voilence are the reasons. Money is walk and talk of life, too much of it and you will despice, where to keep where to hide, money is the reason people fight.
Gone are the times when love was the reason to live and die for.
Love and sacrifice for the mother land was a honour above all.
Today we live but just to die, nothing we do but just cry. Ashes to Ashes Dust to Dust, all there remains is fond memories as such.
So Live and let Live, stop this killing, spread love and cry for Peace to begin.
poem by Manpreet Tuli
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Wake Up & Live
One, two, three, four!
Wake up and live, yall,
Wake up and live!
Wake up and live now!
Wake up and live!
Life is one big road with lots of signs,
So when you riding through the ruts, dont you complicate your mind:
Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy!
Dont bury your thoughts; put your vision to reality, yeah!
All together now:
Wake up and live (wake up and live, yall),
Wake up and live (wake up and live),
Wake up and wake up and live, yeah! (wake up and live now),
Wake up and (wake up and live) - wake up and live!
Rise ye mighty people, ye-ah!
Theres work to be done,
So lets do it-a little by little:
Rise from your sleepless slumber! yes, yeah! yes, yeah!
Were more than sand on the seashore,
Were more than numbers.
All together now:
Wake up and live now, yall!
(wake up and live) wake up and live!
Wake up and live, yall!
(wake up and live) wake up and live now!
You see, one - one cocoa full a basket,
Whey they use you live big today: tomorrow you buried in-a casket.
One - one cocoa full a basket, yeah, yes!
Whey they use you live big today: tomorrow you bury in-a casket.
Wall together now:
(wake up and live now!) wake up and live! oh! yeah-eah!
(wake up and live!) uh!
(wake up and live now!) wake up and live!
(wake up and live) keep on playin!
(wake up and live, yall) uh! yeah! yeah!
(wake up and live!)
(wake up and live now!)
(wake up and live!) break it down!
---
/saxophone solo/
Come on, man!
How is it feelin over there?
(wake up and live now) all right!
(wake up and live!) yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Uh!
Come on, man!
You gotta wake up and live!
---
Life is one big road with lots of signs, yes!
So when you riding through the ruts, dont you complicate your mind:
Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy!
Dont bury your thoughts; put your dream to reality, yeah!
Wall together now:
(wake up and live, yall)
(wake up and live!) wake up and live, yea-eah!
(wake up and live now!)
(wake up and live!)
Wake up and live now!
(wake up and live) wo-oh!
Wake up and live now!
Wake up and live
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miracle
Isn’t it a miracle?
That we with no
Eyes and ears
Honking on the roads
At every bend, turn and
Corner,
Ignoring pedestrian
Crossings, encroaching
On their right to cross
The roads safely, shooing
Them away to race our cars
At break-neck speeds,
Bribing the police to get away
With our mischiefs,
Having under the table
Money exchanges with the agents
To get our driving licences.
All the rules being flouted.
No respect for road safety laws.
We, the blind and deaf people
Suddenly, almost miraculously
Start seeing and heeding what is
Being said to us in countries
Other than our own; become
Civilised drivers, with no need
For honking while driving,
Reversing and turning.
All the mayhem that happens
On our Indian roads, where
People don’t follow their lanes,
Come threatening us with their noisy horns
And nerve-racking swerves; just the places
Need to change, and the same people find
Themselves quietly going through the roads
Abroad. But India isn’t destined to see
Such miracles. Or is She? Some eon, may be.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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