I Sit And Look Out
I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband--I see the treacherous seducer
of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
hid--I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny--I see martyrs and
prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea--I observe the sailors casting lots who
shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these--All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look
out upon,
See, hear, and am silent. 10
poem by Walt Whitman
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Related quotes
Weeds Choke Growth
I victim of lie
I personified pain.
Choke on pride
swallow;
sum totaled shame.
Work
tormented condition
drift sunk
ruptured insane.
Observe obsequious greed
gathers collateral gain.
Observe hear observe
foul season of drain.
Soul sucking monster;
fed foul bodily maim.
Rule shallow.
Engrossed cretin.
Minion lusting obsession.
Desire driven...
diseased rotten brain.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hear The Children Crying.
I can hear their voices,
listen carefully you'll here them too,
be attentive, you can feel their pain,
but don't just sit there to observe their tears.
just move move your eyes here and there,
you'll hear them around the world,
move your eyes to middle east,
take them to Iraq and Afghanistan,
don't end up there,
go and have a rest in Africa,
If you have strength,
just go around and observe,
A Son of Somali land starving,
A Daughter of Sudan land dying,
Twelve years old girl of Congo raped,
Ooh! just their sound of pain.
I can feel what hurts most,
those they depend on, lean on,
are the Beast who turn on them,
What they care most is what they desire.
Their sound of pain,
is like a music in the Bar,
or a love whisper in the bed room.
Ooh please World,
hear them out, as politics won't,
console them, as they have been abandoned,
rescue them, as they have lost faith,
please, be humble to them, as they've fear hunting them.
poem by Dickson Mseti
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The Proof Is In The Pudding
What on Earth is going on with them over there?
'I was approached to give my opinion,
Concerning the world affairs.
And all I said was...
The proof is in the pudding.
The truth in it has been revealed.
And before I knew it,
That's what they began to do.
I'm sure the store owner is thrilled.'
But...
How is the dumping of pudding mixes,
Out into the street...
Connect to your comments made?
'Observe to witness this.
That's all I have to say.
It never ceases to amaze me,
How people re-act to what they hear.'
You don't think they took your figurative comments,
Literally...
Do you?
'Observe to witness this.
That's all I have to say.'
What do you think they are hoping to find?
'Something that reminds them of truth.
Or proof of it.
Who knows? '
I'm not going to say what they are doing is stupid.
'Don't even let that cross your mind.
Just observe it to witness.
The proof is in the pudding.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I would find myself backing away from all of the ""isms,"" all of the communities. I have always been able to be misused by every community But that is OK. I would rather be misused than neglected.
quote by Anthony Braxton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Seeing Eye
The small dogs look at the big dogs;
They observe unwieldy dimensions
And curious imperfections of odor.
Here is the formal male group:
The young men look upon their seniors,
They consider the elderly mind
And observe its inexplicable correlations.
Said Tsin-Tsu:
It is only in small dogs and the young
That we find minute observation
poem by Ezra Pound
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Observe It and Believe
Release the tension in that grasp you have.
Let go and let God complete the task.
Just ask your spiritual guides to clear your path.
Material things you have wont last!
Don't be afraid,
If the importance of your past...
Seems to be fading fast.
A new day is dawning...
To remove all masks.
And reveal the light you hold within!
A fresh awareness upon us all begins.
Observe it and believe.
With faith you will witness your happiness increase.
Observe it and believe.
A higher conciousness comes for you to receive.
Observe it and believe.
All conflicts seen from you will leave.
Observe it and believe.
The energy within you,
Has given you breath to breathe.
Inhale and exhale.
Do this quietly.
Observe it and believe...
God wants to free you from all lies and deceit!
Observe it and believe,
He has come to comfort!
He has.
Let go and let God complete the task.
Don't be afraid,
If the importance of your past...
Seems to be fading fast.
Let go and let God complete the task,
To bring upon you everlasting happiness.
Observe it and believe.
Expect this and receive!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who observes the fifth sin?
Drink not, lie not, steal not,
Kill not, covet not others’ wives,
Are acts against five sins, advocated.
Easy to observe the four.
Hard to observe is the last.
Insurmountable is the lust.
30.05.2001, Berhampur
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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No Thing Ness
no thing ness and being
being no thing
inanimate
animate
arri ving with a notepad
a pen
to take note
to observe
what in seeing
is unseen
to play an unplayed part
in being
unbeing
arriving with a note pad a pen
'observe the empty chair'
'observe the commuter stare'
the servile mechanical limbs marching to work'
observe a face in the looking glass
a mannequin smiling in a shop window
there are so many ways to be and harder still to equate
a no thing state
negate the role the state the art
playing smart with wikapeadia philosopher's who's
who?
according to sartre ..........
poem by Yvette Smith
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Wait
Wait
Wait and
Wait and observe
Observe
Observe and see
See
See where
you are.
Wait
Wait and observe
Observe and See
See and say
Say afew word
The word that is
Yours and Yours
And Pure
And Pure
You are sure.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Women Will Rule The World
(raymond quevedo)
How different the ladies of long ago to the modern women that we all know
If you observe you are bound to see that sex has changed entirely
A long ago their one ambition in life, was to be a mother and a wife
Now they go out imitating the males by smoking cigarettes and drinking cocktails
Girls used to like to be school teachers, gradually becoming stenographers
We next hear of them as lecturers, authors and engineers
There is no limit to their ambition, theyve even gone in for aviation
And if you men dont assert control your women will rule the world
Play a bridge!
Now they say anything that your man can do, they also can achieve too
And theyve openly boasted to do their part in the literature and art
We will next hear of them as candidates for the president of these united states
And if you men dont assert control your women will rule the world
Now you hear on the radio and tv of a great national calamity
Story of tragic proportion coming from the white house in washington
The facts in the case are clearly stated the president is being cruely dominated
By a international conspiracy that threatens world peace and security
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Strange Twists In Parent Echo
strange twists in reality role reversal parenthood
parents observe children in flower spring childhood
children when parents long live may observe parent
in time glimpse scenarios second childhood twilight
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Plight of Children Today
What looks like play for child with just toy gun,
Is not something done entirely for fun;
For, nowadays, one finds children misused,
For various reasons, and also abused.
Some buds can’t blossom into flowers good,
And beautify the plants on which they lie;
Nor landscapes, gardens or a far-off wood-
For, they are nipped early, destined to die!
Oh, what a sorry state of children now!
The world denies them freedom, basic rights;
Neglected by parents, they pine for love;
Children are prey to society’s vice-bites!
Orphaned, famished, ravished, bare-bodied, some,
Just spend their lives in pavement beggary;
Although quite beautiful and quite handsome,
They lead a miserable life that’s scary.
Why blame these kids for stealing eatables?
What will they do when hunger pangs seize them?
What can they do if offered drugs for free?
What can they do when misled by adults?
When acts of violence, TV screens display,
When scenes of taking revenge catch their eyes,
When war of words are witnessed by young minds,
Will not more children fall in vice-filled dens?
Most children love to eat and sleep and play;
They’re unable to do these things today;
Weighed down by satchel-full of books to school,
Some play truant and make their parents, ‘fool’!
And children are the victims when comes war;
Misused as jockeys for camel-race;
For less pay, working with adults at par;
You see just children with fear on their face.
Gun-toting children in military dress,
They have no parents to love or caress;
They learn to fight and shoot under duress;
Some, homosexual victims, in harness!
Child is the father of man tomorrow;
Most children live in dangers and sorrow;
Some leave their homes, when young akin sparrows;
Some toil by pushing carts and wheel-barrows!
A very sad plight of children today!
Some have to slog at nights almost like day;
Some barely-fed, learn vices, come what may;
The modern world has not a thing to say?
poem by John Celes (2008)
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The Power In My Hand
Let the bold get bolder
The weak, weaker
The poor, poorer
And the world bigger
But the powerful shall exceed the earth
And the powerful shall stretch his hands wide
Across the face of the earth
Then the powerful shall be more powerful
The power in my hand, I limit
The power to rebuild the earth
The power to speak to other powers
The power to fall in love
The power to seal volcanoes
To trouble storms
To do the undone
And undo the done
The power to gather knowledge
And solve world mysteries
To reach to the needy
And build better lives
But all these I have neglected
And all the miracles die with me
Can I sit any longer?
And more perish still?
For my sake
But that power could leave me
For someone else
For the misuse of such gifts
Immortality is not an issue
One must die
But shall I die unaccomplished?
With the seed of power
In my hands
Who shall attend my burial?
Apart from the unaccomplished
But my chance to use my power has come
Most people blame Eve
Others Adam
For misused power
Had they not heard they are misusing theirs?
Are they not ashamed?
For nature is fair
And ones chance is too
There is lots of power in my hands to harness
But there isn't lots of time to utilize
So how can I sit with you and watch…
…the power in my hands waste away
poem by Ivan Chizurum Ezeigbo
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Lets Hear It For Women The Women Oppressed
Lets hear it for women the women oppressed
In patriarchal societies their human rights are transgressed
By male religious zealots who hate woman kind
For to trample on women's rights any excuse they will find.
Lets hear it for the women who never receive a fair go
Of equality in their lives they never may know
They are seen as inferior where males reign supreme
And this can do little for their self esteem.
Lets hear it for the women who must play second fiddle to men
Where to be born a female means one cannot win
Promotion in work or promotion in life
To an arrogant and an unfaithful man expected to be a good wife.
Lets hear it for women the women men do rule
And many males in positions of power can be cruel
The mothers of the children in life the hardest role
Equality they need and not male control.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Song: The Cries of Today’s Children
I hear the cries of children,
Of children of the world; I Singer
The unwanted and unlucky,
The orphans and of streets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children who want love;
The illiterate, sick, handicapped; II Singer
Poor, without any sheets!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children that must work; I Singer
To earn while young for family,
Have no place, time to play!
I hear the cries of children,
Of children war-ravaged;
Who know not what is joy in life, II Singer
Living in squalor, strife!
Let’s make this world for children,
A better place to live; I&II Singers together
With encouragement, dignity, * 2 times
And all love, we can give.
(
poem by John Celes
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Young, Patriotic And Undeniably Brave
Discharged from the Air Force.
Married and living independently.
And at 21 years old...
I was then with wife,
And we lived in Kansas City, Missouri.
42 years ago,
Seems to me a 'century'.
And today,
At the age of 63...
I can certainly confess,
I am extremely blessed.
As I observe the lack of discipline,
Allowed by the guardians of today's children.
I remain very curious,
As to 'why' more people...
Are not showing they are furious?
And exactly 'who' are 'they' who speak,
Of values gone undisplayed?
With nerve to say,
How 'others' should be held accountable!
And many of 'us' in those days,
Were young, patriotic and undeniably brave.
Dedicated:
To those young men and women,
who 'still' volunteer to enter into the military...
for a cause that should be more applauded!
Bless your efforts, dedication and sacrifice.
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Money! !
Oh money!
Money, money, money! !
That day, oh money;
For how long should i wait for you to visit me?
Money rules and money is for power,
And the lack of money had made many to fall;
But the dead know nothing about you again.
Many have fallen due to the lack of money,
But my love is for the fish of the sea!
And to examine and observe the birds of the air;
But i am still waiting for my freedom on this earth.
My mind is with an idea and i want to express myself,
But to a world full of wars and less peace;
So what can i do without you oh money? !
The world is cast off and it is defiled,
And with dead men walking around us always to share with us;
But for how long should i wait for you oh money? ! !
Oh money, wher are you?
Where is your dwelling place so that i can visit you?
For i have to observe and examine you well when i do find you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Men Who Made Bad Matches
'Tis the song of many husbands, and you all must understand
That you cannot call me coward now that women rule the land;
I have written much for women, where I thought that they were right,
But the men who made bad matches claim a song from me to-night.
Oh, the men who made bad matches are of every tribe and clime,
And, if Adam was the first man, then they date from Adam’s time.
They shall live and they shall suffer, until married life is past,
And the last sad son of Adam stands alone—at peace at last.
Oh, the men who made bad matches, and the Great Misunderstood,
Are through all the world a mighty and a silent brotherhood.
If a wife is discontented, every other woman knows—
But the men who made bad matches keep the cruel secret close.
You may say that you can tell them, by their clothing, if you will,
But a man may seem neglected, and his home be happy still.
You may tell by their assumption of conventional disguise—
But, the men who made bad matches, I can tell them by their eyes!
I have seen them by the camp-fire, where a child’s voice never comes,
I have seen them by the fireside, in their seeming happy homes—
Seen their wives’ false arms go round them, and the kisses that were lies—
Oh, the men who made bad matches! I can tell them by their eyes.
I have seen them bad in prison—seen them sullen, seen them sad;
I have seen them (in the mad-house)—I have seen them raving mad.
Watched them fight the battle bravely, for the children’s sake alone,
Like a father who has wronged them, and who lives but to atone.
But it’s cruel, oh! it’s cruel, for the husband and the wife,
Who have not one thought in common, and are yoked for weary life.
They must see it through and suffer, for the children they must rear—
Oh, the folk who made bad matches have a heavy cross to bear.
There is not a ray of comfort, in the future’s gloomy sky,
For the children of bad matches will make trouble by-and-bye.
And though second wives be angels, while the first wives were the worst,
No second wife yet wedded makes a man forget the first.
Ah! the men who made bad matches think more often than we know,
Of the girls they should have married, in the glorious long ago,
And there’s many a wife and mother thinks with bitter pain to-day,
Of her giddy, silly girlhood, and the man she sent away.
Life is sad for men and women, but the thoughts are bitter sad
Of the girls we should have married, and the boys we should have had.
But we’ll part now with a handshake, if we cannot with a kiss,
And bad matches may be mended in a better world than this.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Meltdown
And as we witness this meltdown...
A nagging blame game begins.
Like spoiled children arguing in a playground...
They jeopardize lives without end.
Incompetent loyalists of aged documents...
Those who observe shut their eyes.
But the many who can't buffer this 'noise' they hear,
Are trapped in a hole that's deepening in size!
These fools are now believed...
And the consequences no one can leave!
'Would you like an olive in your blood cocktail? '
We are sipping this heated shhhhh...mess,
In little drips!
And the excuses come to solve this are in tattered bits!
'Would you care for more madness in silk or satin underwear?
Someone is addressing this by taking orders over there!
We must have this meltdown with more flair.
Don't you agree?
That's the way it's going to be...
Unfortunately that's their policy! '
And as we witness this meltdown...
A nagging blame game begins.
Like spoiled children arguing in a playground...
They jeopardize lives without end.
Incompetent loyalists of aged documents...
Those who observe shut their eyes.
But the many who can't buffer this 'noise' they hear,
Are trapped in a hole that's deepening in size!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Nervous Governor-General
We read in the press that Lord Northcote is here
To take up Lord Tennyson's mission.
'Tis pleasant to find they have sent us a Peer,
And a man of exalted position.
It's his business to see that the Radical horde
From loyalty's path does not swerve us;
But his tastes, and the task, don't seem quite in accord
For they say that His Lordship is nervous.
Does he think that wild animals walk in the street,
Where the wary marsupial is hopping?
Does he think that the snake and the platypus meet
And "bail up" the folk who go shopping?
And the boomerangs fly round the scared passer-by
Who has come all this way to observe us.
While the blackfellow launches a spear at his eye?
-- No wonder His Lordship is nervous.
Does he think that with callers he'll be overtasked,
From a baronet down to a barber?
Does he dream of the number of times he'll be asked
"What he thinks of our Beautiful Harbour?"
Does he sadly reflect on the sorrows that ding
Round his task? (From such sorrows preserve us!)
He must hear John See speak and O'Sullivan sing,
-- It's enough to make any man nervous.
Does he think he'll be waked in the dead of night
From Melbourne to go willy-nilly,
To live in the Federal Capital site
At Tumut or Wagra-go-billy?
Well, the Melbournites may let the Capital go
(Here we wink with one eye, please observe us!)
But not in a hurry! By no means! Oh, no!
He has not the least need to be nervous!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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