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I'm Tired Of Ageing Politicians

I'm tired of ageing Politicians talking of war
Young soldiers risk their lives for them in Countries afar
And yet they seem to get re-elected when the voters have their say
They play their patriotic card and for them that does pay.

Their war card is their winning card they talk of us and they
And they send young people to fight for them in Countries far away
Not for any moral principle but for their own self interest
War helps them for to cling to power and seems to serve them best.

I'm tired of ageing Politicians who wage war in God's name
Who send others to kill and maim for them in their quest for immortal fame
The winners only write the war history and that's how 'twill always be
Yet the cost in the loss of Human life is huge for every war victory.

I'm tired of ageing Politicians who at the least excuse
Send their war planes off to distant Lands to set terror on the loose
For every death they may boast of another terrorist they create
They talk of peace through the gun barrel and they only give us hate.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Along The War Avenue Of honour

Along the war Avenue of Honour a plaque to a dead soldier nailed to every tree
Brave young men who died in battle their reward for their bravery
They died in the war said to end all wars in the killing fields of World war one
But many wars since and far too many bloody battles and peace in the World not yet won.

Wars started by silly ageing men who send the young for them to die
Ageing men who themselves will die of old age and their twilight years they will enjoy,
ageing males heroes of their people we honour cowards as heroes one might say
The young men will go to war for them and the young men with their young lives pay.

The war supposed to end all wars long over almost nine decades since have gone by
But many wars have been fought since then and war pilots dropp their big bombs from the night sky
But suppose that's what will always happen when we give all of our power away
To silly and ageing male war men who with hair dyes cover their gray.

Along the war avenue of honour long dead soldiers names on every tree
Young noble men who died in battle far from homeland and family
In what was to be the war to end all wars yet we don't have much wisdom to show
For the loss of so many fine young men well over eight decades ago.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Birthday Card

I kiss the card I will send you
And wonder where you'll be.
When you cut your cake
Or raise a glass,
For goodness sake
Why can't I let it pass
But sadly, that's just me.
I should admit
That you don't care.
I will sit half drunk
And swear.
Then play music
That just makes me cry.
You see,
You never said goodbye.
I write in the card I will send you.
It's hard to put down love
In 2 lines.
I'm scarred
But think the sun still shines.
Why can't I get it into my head
What lives in me,
For you is dead.
And I will sit all night in a chair
Dreaming sunlight on your hair.
And you'll be another year older.
As I shed more tears and grow colder.
I post your birthday card with a sigh.
You see,
You never said goodbye.

poem by Kevin East
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So Hard To Find

There are a few honest politicians so honest and faithful and kind
But they are such a small minority honest politicians are so hard to find
They would do almost anything for to hold on to power as power in their lives is their central theme
They put power in their lives before principle or at least that is how it does seem,
There are a few honest politicians though their type are becoming quite rare
And shady deals are concocted in high places in the bigger World out there
So much corruption in high places where success can come through deceit
Far decenter than them poor and homeless and living it rough on the street
To most politicians to lie is so easy and one lie leads to another they say
And they are referred to as 'the honorable' yet they tell more lies every day
They are tainted by their lust for power to power they so desperately cling
Yet many see them as quite special and many their praises do sing
And many out there are so gullible and to the faults of the power wielders quite blind
And 'tis sad that honest politicians are becoming much harder to find.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Man

Written by james young
Lead vocals by james young
People say with age there comes experience
But as soon as you are born you start to die
Older men are chosen to speak wisely
But call the child to the sacrificial rite
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
The fire bombs in distant lands are burning
Jarring every synapse in your soul
Life and death are a meaningless profession
Tomorrow brings a horror yet untold
Who can we get to win the fight?
Young man!
Who can we get to make love all night?
Young man!
Who do we send away to die?
Young man!
I heard a lonely woman cry for a
Young man!
Young man!
Young man!
Come home my son
We'll give you a rest
Welcome my son
We'll give you the best
Time's stowaway
The young man
Short are the days
Of the young man
Young man!
Young man!

song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day You Die

The most important day in your life is the day you die,
And your time of death could be scheduled but can’t and you don’t know why,
Somehow or other they can’t get around to changing the death rules,
About assisted suicide and euthanasia for us fools.

European countries and Oregon can do it but not us,
Our politicians have the attitude that it was ever thus,
Our politicians go to Ottawa and there they hide out,
But then they do nothing and act as if they know what it’s about.

Maybe our politicians believe that they will never die,
We will never know because they will never tell us why,
No binding referendums like the Swiss constitutional tools,
No death with dignity because it’s against religious rules.

Jan 18th,2011

poem by James Bredin
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I Don't Feel Sorry Anzac Day Is Over

I don't feel sorry Anzac day is over enough of talk of war for one more year
I did not attend the ceremony at the war memorial their tired old speeches I did not wish to hear
I do not wish to belittle their glory but their sameness I find boring just the same
They pass their torch to the young generation who to the war drums march on towards their fame.

Why don't they leave the young to make up their own minds instead of brainwashing them in such a way
To poor refugees who flee for their lives from the war zones more respect we all ought to pay
I am frowned upon as not a decent person as I do not attend the ceremonies on Anzac Day
But than to grow old as a false patriot I'd prefer for to grow old and gray.

The big headline news of the morning was as you guessed it was yesterday's big Anzac Day parade
I can understand of war veterans of why so much of a big fuss of them is made
Such occasions are used by the Politicians as to power they so desperately try to cling
It means more votes for incumbent Parliamentarians when the praises of old war veterans they sing.

I feel very happy Anzac Day is over by such occasions I for one don't feel inspired
Too much of anything can become boring and of war and of war heroes I've grown tired
Why should I wish for to leave my bed at daybreak for to go and watch a silly war parade
I'm tired of hearing of war and of war heroes and far too many last posts have been played.

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im An Agent

Send in eyes
Thoughts of crashing, all those pictures
Send in thoughts of john the god
Send in dreams
Lovers on corners, clean my sheets
Your only chance is break the state
We are clean
Dont ask, Im an agent
Send in change
Secretaries, nothing more
You can be replaced you know
Send in chance
Bad conditions, talk of leaving
Talk of walking out on me
Send in you
Send in pain, send in lies
Send in words that I believe
Send in you
Just watch the face, your sure to see
Something, give this game away
Send in you
Get her out, get her out
Call me, just dont say the name

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why can't we be friends

All the young soliders dying
All The Mothers crying
A father weeps for his only son
This is how the War was won
We send our troops into the sand
We use our tanks to fight on the land
We Attack with fire from the skies
We send people in as spies
The War is won with a single battle
our troops are sent over like cattle
The Price of war is very steep
And yet the politicians treat life as if it were so cheap
The War is won with others to come
Let's stop the violence and at least ACT like chums
There's no need to systematically clense
I mean after all
Why can't we be friends

poem by Andrew Evans
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A Secret Message To Our Politicians

Why can’t we have proportional representation at the polls?
Do our politicians look down from above on us poor souls?
In first past the post systems, the several others always loose,
The system is so badly bent that no one needs an excuse.

How do we get propositions, recalls and referendums?
Should I send my opposition politician a memorandum?
Can politicians ignore the needs of the people forever?
Are all attempts and pleas for change a useless endeavour?

How do we get an euthanasia pill or death with dignity?
Are these decisions ruled by some high religious deity?
Could we have set-date elections and plebiscites please?
Should I just shut up because of my lack of expertise?

Jan 29th,2011

poem by James Bredin
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Truth And Justice... (Part Five)

the facts that we've allowed
people around the world in
famine struck countries to
starve to death...
that the countries we do
business with imprison their
own people for speaking out
for justice...
that we send our young men
off to fight unholy wars, and
then bring them home to no
jobs and no homes...
that we dont teach our own children
respect....
that our system of justice is
bought and sold...
that we still judge human beings
by skin color and sex...
that we condemn our young people
to poverty and drugs...
are unforgivable!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Uprising

throughout the world there is civil war and unrest.
peoples patience being put to the test.
how much more can they take
before it becomes much too late.

when will these countries open up their eyes
and listen to the peoples battle cry.
what will it take for these countries to see
that they need unity.

clean up your own home, before it's too late
and let the people gain your faith.

don't destroy all their dreams
show a spark of light, that can be seen.

feed the hungry and help the poor
listen to their voices and hear their shouts
this is what humanity should be about.

eighty percent of the populations
is low to middle class
and if this continues, that number will not last.

people are tired, and they gather in crowds
hear the whispers, fear the sounds.
as politicians and leaders of nations
hear the rumbles, feel their sensations.

they are tired of being pushed around
and are willing to tear your lives to the ground.

so open your eyes, before it's too late
and help save the human race.

poem by Louis Rams
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Saga Of The Ageing Orphan

Father and I waved goodbye
As we went to look
Uncle peter was writing a book
And his mama was starting to cook and shes ageing
We had come in search of one
Who evades us all
Never heeds the call
If only someone could stall this ageing
So Ill go and hope and know
That my time is near
Laughing through the years
Having only fears of ageing

song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saga Of The Ageing Orphan

Father and I waved goodbye
As we went to look
Uncle peter was writing a book
And his mama was starting to cook and shes ageing
We had come in search of one
Who evades us all
Never heeds the call
If only someone could stall this ageing
So Ill go and hope and know
That my time is near
Laughing through the years
Having only fears of ageing

song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Tired Of It All

I am tired of it all
I am tired of today
I am tired of the summer heat-
I am tired of all the years of trying to be something
And still being nothing and no one
I am tired of myself and my ambition
I am tired of reading the great poems of others
I am tired of Poetry
I am tired of being old
I am tired of no longer having the means to help those I care for-
I am tired of having written for so many years
And having so little to show for it-
I am tired of being an old man getting older -
I am tired of being afraid of what is going to happen to me
And those close to me
I am tired of having so many sick friends-
I am tired of having more and more people I have known who are dead
I am tired of a world in which violence and stupidity play such a great part
I am tired of all the problems that should have been solved years ago
And yet persist-
I am tired of cruelty
I am tired of rudeness and petty selfishness
I am tired of seeing the evil get away with it
I am tired truly tired
Tired of being tired also
Tired of myself and my complaints-
And my failure all these years
To make things right-

And yet and yet with all the tiredness
I know there is so much else even in myself-
I still want to live and dream and hope and help those I love
I still want to write still a few lines of poetry
that will be read by others
And help them
Dream to begin again
I still want to give to those I love
The little I still have to give
I still want to live
For life itself is life itself is still good
Despite the tiredness.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Lovers Prayer

Dont send me no young girl to love me
With their eyes shinin bright
All the young girls are afraid of me
Send me a woman tonight
Dont send me no hand-holdin baby
cause I been with babies before
Dont send me nobody thats crazy
Dont send me no young girls no more
I was entertaining a little girl in my rooms, lord
With california wines and french parfumes, lord
She started to talk to me about the war, lord
I said, I dont want to talk about the war.
Dont send me nobody with glasses
Dontt want nobody above me
Dont send nobody takin night-classes
Send me somebody to love me
Please answer my prayer
Please answer my prayer
Please answer my prayer

song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Minding Our Own Business

The universal warrior.
The ordinary fighting man
existing since the world began
A doer not a worrier.

He does as he is ordered to.
Its not his place to question why
The many ordered by the few.
His duty is to do or die.

The politicians and the brass
issue commands which he obeys
Its always been this way alas
and will be ‘til we change our ways.

Why should they send young men to fight
and die in some far distant land.
To try and prove that might is right.
Why can’t our leaders understand.

Each country is entitled to
govern their land in their own way
There’s very little we can do
We cannot force them to obey.

However much we disagree,
we have no right we can’t dictate.
they must accept democracy.
Each is an independent state.

Our leaders ought to concentrate
on problems in our own countries
Address them now they cannot wait
Re stabilise economies.

It’s not our place to interfere
on other countries home affairs
Past history makes this quite clear.
We have our problems they have theirs.

The evidence is plain to see
.Each country gets the government
they will accept eventually
By trial and experiment.

Although we think our way the best
it will not do for everyone.
So in our own best interest
We must learn to leave things alone.

Democracy is not perfect
Although we may pretend it is.
It is the best we can expect
although it’s rather hit or miss.

It is the best we can devise
as long as human nature rules.
We lack the knowledge to be wise.
We are a race of clever fools.

27-Dec-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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We Live In An Ageist Society

We live in an ageist society where ageing people are treated as second class
Where the ageing man and ageing woman are seen as inferior to the young man and the young lass
And the older you get life gets harder the future belong to the young
And so many on retirement pensions are lonely, forgotten and unsung.

They worked hard for to raise their children but they will end their days in a retirement home
And their children don't visit them often 'twould seem that their usefulness they have outgrown,
One might say they've had a good innings though nothing easy came their way
And I do not find it consoling to think their lot will be my lot one day.

I fear growing old more than I fear death their last few years so few enjoy
But I suppose that there is consolation to know that the wealthy too grow old and die
And life too will go on without them their money will not keep them alive
The Reaper one day he will claim them though to an old age they survive.

We live in an ageist society and ageism is on the increase
One can feel happy for the dear departed at least they can now rest in peace
Rejected in their old age and lonely with only their good memories left to recall
And only the Reaper awaits them the Reaper who waits for us all.

poem by Francis Duggan
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This Hate

I hate the word terrorist
I hate how it is used
I hate the war began by it
I hate the hate that ensues
I hate the politicians, who squander human lives
I hate the people
I hate the people who allow
I hate the people who ignore the truth
I hate myself who stands helpless, frustrated, and confused
I hate… hate
I hate the truth of today
I hate the horror of yesterday
I hate that I cannot forget
I hate the media who conform the masses
I hate the fear that leaves a repugnant odor
I hate those that use this fear to kill
All this hate I bear eats at me
This hate eats you
Hate will consume us, until all of humanity is lost
While I spin so does the world
While we die so does the world
While the world is at war
There will be no winner
There will be no victory
There will be no peace
Wake up……
WAKE up…….
WAKE UP………
So we can end this hate

poem by Samson Minder
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I'm Tired

I'm tired of people messing with me
I'm tired of people treating me wrong
I'm tired of people saying I stank
I'm tired of people remembering the past
I'm tired of black people
I'm tired of stupid people
I'm tired of selfish people
I'm tired of being the target all the time
I'm tired of feeling sad
I'm tired of people thinking there better than everybody else
I'm tired of people not appreciating me
I'm tired of being tired
I'm tired of being tired
I'm just tired

poem by Shawanda Polk
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Christmas Cards

Every year we send Christmas cards
And every year I ask myself:
Why do we send Xmas regards
To our friends who unlike ourselves
Hardly ever reciprocate?
The cost is not cheap I might add;
But my wife always steers me straight.
She says, “.you and I should be glad
To be blessed with so many friends.
A friend always transcends the cost
Of a card. Who cares if they send
Or not, or if their cards get lost
In the mail. The greatest pleasure
giving can never be measured.”

poem by Albert Ahearn
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