Class Act
When I think of the term class act,
There's no one larger than Mr. T.
From the south side of Chicago,
When the streets were awfully mean.
He works with sick children everywhere.
And he gives to others in need.
Doing it without fanfare,
Each day are many good deeds.
He gives credit to the father,
The One Who sits on the throne.
It's only in movies he's angry,
As he hasn't a selfish bone.
If kids today need a hero,
He will never turn one away.
For he's a friend to all who need one,
He treats everyone this same way.
poem by Robert Edgar Burns
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Working Class Hero
(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lake Shows All
Is it true what they’re whispering in the streets?
Is it true what they are saying?
Is it true about what’s going to happen?
Is that why all the children have stopped playing?
The rumours are the hero’s here
The one that’s going to save lives
They’re going to save everyone
Fathers, children and wives
We’re told to meet them in the forest
Near the sparkling lake
We’re told to go one by one
Nothing needed to take
Everyone’s queuing to see the hero
Everyone’s queuing today
Everyone’s excited for it]
Everyone wants their say
People are leaving now
People are amazed
This hero must really be good
Because everyone’s left all dazed
My turn has come it’s finally here
My turn to follow the path
My turn to question to this hero
Hope there’s jokes to make us laugh
I enter the clearing near the lake
There’s calmness all around
I enter this peaceful zone
Without making any sound
I look around for the hero
I look for a long, long while
I look around high and low
There’s nothing but a leafy pile
Edging closer to the lake
I see a sign ahead
Edging closer slowly forward
The sign itself read:
‘You’re here to se the hero
You’re here to meet him now
You want your problems solving
Anyway, anyhow.
The hero is here today
The hero is standing close
The hero is very similar
With your eyes, ears and nose.
So yes my friend, you’ve guessed the end
So now you really see
That you can truly say to yourself
The hero lies within me.
Tough Streets Of Chicago
Tough streets of Chicago, you made me who I am.
Tough streets of Chicago, for me you had a plan.
You forced me to observe, what kids my age did not.
You taught me to look and see, always looking for a plot.
You taught me to react, and kept me on my toes.
You taught me to examine, the actions of my foes.
You forced me to react, in situations dire.
You made sure I would function, when I came under fire.
You made sure I was tough, made sure I'd understand,
the skills that I would need, when I joined uncle Sam.
Tough streets of Chicago, I almost went insane.
Tough streets of Chicago, you caused me so much pain.
You made me grow up fast, always dodging death.
You made me run from danger, could hardly catch my breath.
You took most of my friends, why, I'll never understand.
You made it possible to count, all my friends on one hand.
You took them in their teens, you took them very young.
You took them way before, to live they had begun.
Tough streets of Chicago, my tour is almost up.
Tough streets of Chicago, with your gangster posting up.
Tough streets of Chicago, can't get you off my mind.
Tough streets of Chicago, I miss those streets of mine.
Tough streets of Chicago...............................
poem by Rico Avila
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
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Chicago Streets
So good to be home
and out of the heat.
All those excess people reminded I'm alone
as I explored the busy Chicago streets.
So good to be mild
and not full of heat.
All those old buildings reminded I'm only a child
as I explored the ancient Chicago streets.
So good to be recognized
and not sweating in the heat.
All those dollars spent reminded me of the love I'm still denied.
as I explored the poor Chicago streets.
So good to be back from running away
and back from the heavy, humid heat.
All of the luggage and vacations reminded me problems come to stay.
as I left, for a long time, those Chicago streets.
poem by Delilah Miller
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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With A Demanding Of Credit To Be Given
There are those,
Who wish NOT to be given credit...
For those deeds they did not do.
Even though they may have provided,
The motivation.
And there are those,
Who wish to take credit...
For deeds they did not do.
And will make claims,
They were instrumental...
In getting those deeds done.
With a demanding of credit to be given,
To them!
Just for their association of knowing 'who'
Has perform those tasks.
With a customary delivery of much embellishment.
They wish to get,
What they so richly do not deserve.
An attention that is mentioned.
With a spotlighting done on their lack of skill.
And an absence of talent...
Believed is their right to steal.
And today...
These thieves seem to be everywhere.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dear Fathers
Every
Father...
Did not friend....
About
The child...!
Every child...
With out
Love is father...
Father was
Father....?
Father was
Crimneal...?
O...
My dear...
Father's...
Love above...
Your's...
Child...
With faith fully
Give too love
Your children....
Your children is
Yours...
Good friend...S...
O...
Dear children...
Your father is
Your's
Faith full friend...
Not your enemy
So...
Do love your's father
Today...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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If Not
If not for my Father, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Mother, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Teachers, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Brothers, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Sisters, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Spouse Dear, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Children, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Good Deeds, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Talents, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Hard Work, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Blessings, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Country, would I be what I am today?
If not for my Dear GOD, would I be what I am today?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-12-2004
poem by John Celes
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What Do Good Works Do?
What will a good life do for you, when your earthly life is through?
All the good you proudly say, you’ve done for men along the way.
Good deeds by men can be good; however it must be understood,
That our works won’t take the place, of The Lord’s amazing Grace.
Good works friend play no part, of God’s true conversion of a heart.
Your good works may be in vain, if you do not embrace The Name,
The only name in Heaven raised, by which all men must be saved.
Will all your good works of the past, well into eternity forever last?
Or will they be buried along side, your earthly body that also died?
Are you ignoring God’s Love, working your way to Heaven above?
Forgetting what God has done, by sending His only begotten Son.
We’re not saved by good deeds, but by God’s work upon Calvary,
His finished work on the cross, through Jesus saves all those lost.
For it is His Grace that saves us, when in Christ we place our trust.
Was the good work in your life, done for the glory of Jesus Christ?
Good works won’t move the Lord, if Christ His Only Son is ignored.
Do your works match the price, paid on the cross by Jesus Christ?
When you accept Jesus Christ, God’s works will flow from your life,
Works prepared for all who believe, that will continue on in eternity.
When your works are of The Lord, you will inherit an eternal reward,
Don’t you want to see your works, turned by God into eternal perks?
(Copyright ©06/2006)
A Real Hero
A REAL HERO
Some people come into our life and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.
We admire some people because they are good at what they do and we want to be like them.
Both actions and character are keys to what it takes to be a hero. Perhaps a person is your hero because he or she is extremely honest, or may be that person fought to improve a bad situation or helped someone in great need.
Recipe of a hero: Although heroes are unique, there is a common denominator. A hero makes a difference to the lives of others, often without fanfare. The influence of a hero's actions can live long after the actual deeds are forgotten.
A hero models the great possibilities of the human spirit. This can help us discover our own talents and heroic qualities.
But remember: Heroes are only human. They may not do everything right all the time.
Learning to understand their mistakes and putting them into perspective is a sign of maturity. So imitate the good in others, while always trying to be our own unique best selves.
poem by Bhumika Wadhwa
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The South Side of Chicago'' by David Hart
''The South Side of Chicago'' by David Hart
The South Side of Chicago
Whence those childhood years were spent
Skip-walking upon grimacing cracked sidewalks
Hastening through filth floored garbage canned
flanked alleyways to-
The forlorn house-windows weeping chrystalline shards-
cascading glass tears
'Property Condemned' blared in scarlet on the door.
'Someone lives there' it was said,
'the man who gathers things from the garbage cans'
The pebble strewn church yard, where, in prickly winter,
scarved boys coerce the bell to toll with swift flung
snowballs catapaulted to a shivering bell tower.
The South Side of Chicago,
The year of the big church fire
That day it did burn and claw
At the hot black night sky.
People gathered, assembled in solemnity
Aghast, huddled and shoving to see
That hallowed place whose torrents
Of Sunday's serenities and dressups
Now would no longer be.
The South Side of Chicago
There, the swill darkened tavern
That nightly gulped down shadow faced spectres
A lad cries out, 'the bar, someone stabbed in the
head, come and see'.
'Not I', I said, 'not a sight I'd care to see',
as an acidic sadness enveloped me.
The boys came together wearing their
jackets and coats-symbols affixed, emblems
proudly donned-so they knew who they were.
'Wanna join? ' 'No thanks', I said, 'Glad to be
just solitary me'.
I watched them, fighting their rivals
With chains, steel pipes and knives
Fearing their bloody deeds.
Content to be alone
Alone and free
The South Side of Chicago
In cramped classrooms scented in
soap and sawdust
Mostly attentive I would be
Amidst tatterly clothed children
-waiting for recess, lunch or
time to go home.
At recess, the garbage men came
And roused a battalion of rats
That scattered pell-mell
Amidst little girl shrieks
and screams
Little boys chortling
Chased those rats frightened
away
Far away
On the South Side of Chicago
2001DHartUSA
poem by David Hart
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Anger With A Friend
Today I was angry with my friend
And I decided everything came to an end
I was irate for no reason
I acted as if my choice was treason
He sat with me like everyday
But today we did not talk or play
I avoided him as much as I could
Because I was angry with him, my friend
He tried to solve things out
By having a little spout
I turned my face away
Because I was angry with him, my friend
All his tries were in vain
He was true but I took it feign
Whatever so, I shunned him
Because I was angry with him, my friend
A friend or foe, now I thought
It baffled my mind, a doubt
But I bored him, ignored him
Because I was angry with him, my friend
What if I heard him through out?
Wouldn’t our fury be hindered?
Then we would still be friends
I should listen to him, my friend
He said words of fret and regret
He said of defense and confusion
He was a sad, mad lad
I forgave him all at once
He was my friend after all!
(WRITTEN FOR AND ABOUT MADDY....FOR A REASON I KEEP TO MYSELF)
OCTOBER 24,2008
poem by Sania Harris
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The good father
This is the one who can not eat if his children do not eat
This is the who wear unexpensive clothes while his children wear expensive ones
This the one who sacrifice his problems for his children
This is the one who works every day for his children
This the one who can sleep outside the house while his children are inside
Are the children showing the appreciation to his efforts?
Are the children showing sense of appreciation about his love to them?
They show appreciation by writing poems for him
They show love by consoling him when he is in trouble
A good father should be innocent
A good father should act as a head of the family
A good father should give support to the family
The location known as Silityiwa has got such father
This father is known as Sonwabisile Lateta and he is “my” father
poem by Franklin Spetuxolo Lateta
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Most High On Kingdom's Throne
You may assume it from assumptions fed.
And innuendos whispered,
By those who wish them to spread.
You may even be groomed upon it,
Until for you...
It becomes a craving in your head.
But know this...
From my lips not whispered,
You will never defeat me!
You know why?
My life is not based upon opinions told,
Rumors or babbled smattered...
With a smearing of lies.
And while you are asleep with visions to defeat me,
I am awake to salivate upon teachings I feed and seek.
Where?
At the feet where my Father sits Most High,
On Kingdom's Throne.
And people like me are welcomed to greet and meet,
The Almighty.
No matter if we gather together.
Or if it's requested one visits Him alone.
You may assume it from assumptions fed.
And innuendos whispered,
By those who wish them to spread.
But know this...
Defeating the children taught by my Father,
May be your wish.
However...
Where my Father sits Most High on Kingdom's Throne,
Fantasies like yours do not exist.
You may assume it from assumptions fed.
And innuendos whispered,
By those who wish them to spread.
But know this...
Where my Father sits Most High on Kingdom's Throne,
Fantasies like yours do not exist.
Or are even known.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hero's Acre
Brave Mary Magdalene of Magdala
She stood by Jesus' side after
The treacherous disciples had fled!
She was there when he died on
The cross.Oh Mary! She did not
Cross question and interrogate
The son of God when He demonstrated
How feeble death in reality is!
But don't mention her in
The presence of the pen
Pushers of Hero's Acre!
They will glare at you and
Claim the fame for themselves
Mother Theresa Of The gutters
She worked like a slave in the slum
Woe unto the robbers of Hero's Acre
The credit they say is theirs!
Her name they're content to
Bury in the mud of the gutter
The lesser known Blanche Moyilwa
Was executed by her mother and father
She would not trade her faith for
the known superstitions!
Afterward they claimed her saint's
Powers for themselves and you will
Hear the bosses of Hero's Acre mention
Her name in dark angry undertones
Why is Hero's Acre everywhere manned
By those who worship the power mongers
And not those who worked themselves
To death for the common good of humanity?
And is the world challenged to smell
The putrid dung of gender discrimination
Again? And what are you fighting to do to
Correct the glaring imbalances in Hero's Acre?
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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It's Flu Season
What nonsense is this?
Flu now has an anticipated season?
And people are predicted to get sick?
Like the selling of costumes for Halloween,
Flu season signs everywhere can be seen.
'Stop and get your shots.
And while you are at it pick up your tricks and treats.
It's Flu season and your kids are in school.
Don't be foolish...
Get a shot for you.'
I remember when it was rare to even get sick.
And when someone got a cold,
In two weeks they were over it.
Today someone can get ill and have chills for a month.
And people who fear this,
Can now be seen in long lines to be screened,
With a getting of a dose...
To chase away flu symptoms as if they were ghosts.
How appropriate to sell with costumes as well.
I remember when it was rare to even get sick.
And when someone got a cold,
In two weeks they were over it.
'Stop and get your shots.
And while you are at it pick up your tricks and treats.
It's flu season and your kids are in school.
Don't be foolish...
Get a shot for you.
No appointment necessary.
Stop, shop and get your shots! '
What nonsense is this?
Flu now has an anticipated season?
And people are predicted to get sick?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She'll Drive The Big Car
She waited by the moon
She was sick with fear and cold
She felt too old for all of this
Of course she never showed
She lugged her suitcase to the bus
Melted home through the snow
North along riverside
She slips beneath the sheets
A husbands quiet devoted wife
But strangers sad and nervous
By the dawns early light
Loves lies like a dead cloud
On a shabby, yellow lawn
Up on riverside
She'll drive the big car
He'll sit behind
She'll keep an eye on Jessica
South along the Hudson
She'll turn the radio high
Find a station playing sad, sad soul
Just a little bit louder now
South along the Hudson yea
Just a little bit faster now
Just a little bit louder now
Just a little bit angry now
South along the Hudson, yea
And she'll drive the big car
And talk herself insane
Just a little bit louder now
Just a little bit angry now
Way back when Millennium
Meant racing to the light
He promised her a dream-life
He'd take her back to street-life
Away from violent water
With its Cormorants and leaves
Up on riverside
She'll drive the big car
But he'll sit behind
Bursting her bubbles of Ludlow and Grand
South along the Hudson
She'll turn the radio way up high
Find a station playing sad, sad soul
Just a little bit louder now
South along the Hudson
Just a little bit faster now
Just a little bit louder now
Just a little bit angry now
South along the Hudson, yea
Just a little bit faster now
Just a little bit louder now
Just a little bit angry now
South along the Hudson, yea
She'll drive the big car
He'll sit behind
She'll keep an eye on Jessica
Just a little bit faster now
Just a little bit faster now
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chicago
Chicago, chicago, that toddlin town
Chicago, chicago, Ill show you around (youll stay around)
Bet your bottom dollar you lose the blues in
Chicago, chicago, the folks who visit
All wanna settle down. (all wanna settle down in my hometown)
On state street, that great street, I just wanna say,
They do things they dont do on broadway,
Youll have the time, the time of your life
Bring all your friends, all your kids and your wife to
Chicago, chicago my hometown. (hey now baby--)
(oooh baby)
Youll have the time, the time of your life
Bring all your friends, all your kids and your wife to
Chicago, chicago my hometown.
Oh, to chicago, chicago my hometown (yeah)
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father’s Day
A father loves his children,
More than words can say;
Dad’s the head of family –
This was so till today!
A father toils for children,
From morn, throughout day;
So that all can eat good food,
He gives his hard-earned pay!
A father teaches children
And tells what life is;
A good dad chides and canes you,
If studies, you do miss.
A father tells his children
About love of God;
He reads the Bible verses,
And warns about God’s rod.
A father trains his children
Moulds their character;
He helps them know, right from wrong,
And live a life better.
A father guides his children,
Walk on sinless roads;
To live a life of fortitude,
And righteousness, he goads!
Let children wish their father,
‘Happy Father’s Day! ’
Thank God for giving this nice man –
A blessing till this day!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-15-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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