Madhouse Enormity
We shout like Russians. Ever-so-tragic.
My father, the poor devil, feeling sick.
We've planted our tree on a landscape of vast sadness.
Our tears water weeds that kill us.
An immense saga all night long.
The police with their slugging faces arrive,
baseball bats ready for a homerun. Sideshows
of fellaheen gypsies on the main driveway
of our house of noble where horrified women
cast spells for money. It's like an incantation,
a cameo hotel, a flophouse of Chicago, full of
strange commuting children with milky white thighs.
We talk excitedly below a huge portrait of
the cancer stricken patriarch. We burn our diplomas
and the police applaud us. They beat my father
into bloody anonymity.
poem by Marina Gipps
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Related quotes
The Blind Girl
Kind Christians, pray list to me,
And I'll relate a sad story,
Concerning a little blind girl, only nine years of age,
Who lived with her father in a lonely cottage.
Poor girl, she had never seen the blessed light of day,
Nor the beautiful fields of corn and hay,
Nor the sparrows, that lifted their heads at early morn
To bright Sol that does the hills adorn.
And near the cottage door there was an elm tree;
But that stunted elm tree she never did see,
Yet her little heart sometimes felt gay
As she listened to the thrushes that warbled the live-long day.
And she would talk to the wren when alone,
And to the wren she would her loneliness bemoan,
And say, "Dear little wren, come again to-morrow;
Now be sure and come, your singing will chase away my sorrow."
She was motherless, but she had a drunken father,
Who in his savage moods drank all he could gather,
And would often cruelly beat her until she would cry,
"Dear father, if you beat me I will surely die."
She spent the days in getting ready her father's food,
Which was truly for her drunken father's good;
But one night he came home, reeling drunk,
And the poor child's heart with fear sunk;
And he cried, "You were at the door when I came up the lane;
Take that, you good-for-nothing slut; you're to blame
For not having my supper ready; you will find
That's no excuse, Sarah, because you are blind."
And with a stick he struck her as he spoke
Across the shoulders, until the stick almost broke;
Crying aloud, "I'll teach you better, you little sneak;"
And with the beating, Sarah's heart was like to break.
Poor little Sarah had never seen the snow;
She knew it was beautiful white, some children told her so;
And in December, when the snow began to fall,
She would go to the door and make a snowball.
One day she'd been very cheerless and alone,
Poor child, and so cold, almost chilled to the bone;
For her father had spent his wages in drink,
And for want of fire she was almost at death's brink.
Her face was pinched with hunger but she never complained,
And her little feet with cold were chilblained,
And her father that day had not come home for dinner,
And the dull grey sky was all of a shimmer.
So poor Sarah was very sick when her father came home;
So bad, little dear, that she did sigh and moan,
And when her father saw her in bed
He was heart-stricken with fear and dread.
So within a few days poor Sarah did die,
And for the loss of Sarah the drunken father did cry,
So the loss of his child soon converted him
From drinking either whiskey, rum or gin.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Ready To Leave
My life is screwed my days are dome I need to die to have some fun
I need to die and leave this place and meet my father face to face!
My father is the devil you see and the evil in him is the evil in me, and no holy man can get him out of me, because its in my blood and its in my soul and the only way to get rid of it is to get rid of me hole,
my father is great my father is fun instead of sitting in a church reading a book to worship him you kill random people and spend the money you took, instead of caring about the living you talk to the dead and blow off peoples head,
so im ready to go is ready to leave so I can meet my father and finally be free.
poem by Amber Vasquez
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Ready to leave
My life is screwed my day's are done I need to die to have some fun
I need to die and leave this place and meet my father face to face!
My father is the devil you see and the evil in him is the evil in me,
and no holy man can get him out of me,
because its in my blood and its in my soul and the only way to get rid of it is to get rid of me hole, silver bullet pierce my chest put me down put me to rest,
my father is great my father is fun instead of sitting in a church reading a book
to worship him you kill random people and spend the money you took,
instead of caring about the living you talk to the dead and blow off peoples head,
so i'm ready to go is ready to leave so I can meet my father and finally be free.
poem by Liera Bloodheart
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The Vengeful Poem
you ask if you can burn
a house
then to answer it
you burned one
the family house
where your mom died a week ago
was ashed
you father left
unable to stand you
you handed your arms
they will not take it
they confess
they still love you
when the police officer charged you with arson
they put you in a place where no one knows you
they still protect
as their own brother by blood
all that you have in mind is an escape
you want to burn another house
one day
you told the man next door that you can kill him
he told your brother
who asked you about your scheme
of your first premeditated murder
you said you want to try if you can really kill a man
with your bare hands
you have become uncontrollable
now a lesson must be given to you
you will be captured in this poem
it is inside a rectangular perimeter
there is no exit
now our world shall be calm
and it will be peaceful upon its bed of grass
because
this poem also knows how to kill
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Father Of Night
Father of night, father of day,
Father, who taketh the darkness away,
Father, who teacheth the bird to fly,
Builder of rainbows up in the sky,
Father of loneliness and pain,
Father of love and father of rain.
Father of day, father of night,
Father of black, father of white,
Father, who build the mountain so high,
Who shapeth the cloud up in the sky,
Father of time, father of dreams,
Father, who turneth the rivers and streams.
Father of grain, father of wheat,
Father of cold and father of heat,
Father of air and father of trees,
Who dwells in our hearts and our memories,
Father of minutes, father of days,
Father of whom we most solemnly praise.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waw Waw Waw
Well certain thing you dont act man
And you cant take it back
You understand me a say,
But certain things you have to look on an other thing,
Hm..... , me cant understand what I say
Me nah understand what we a say,
Me not understand what we are chat about,
Well this is what we chat about
.....what me a talk bout....
Baby girl, waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Like a police sirene come fast stichie cry
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
You can hear me a shout it out ten thousend times
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Like a police sirene come fast stichie cry
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
You can hear me a shout it out ten thousend times
She caught me red handed and feel offended
Gal a pose up in a me car (Im sorry)
Me and suel book room in a hotel and she catch
Me when me hand in a deh jar (Im sorry)
No she cant take this, catch me with at the office
And drink from one glass inna varn
She said me character dirty, when she hold me
With shirley, and she still a never warn (oh dear)
She vex when she see me inna the bed with yvette
And susan a pose up like style (what a thing)
Peachess, princess, put on her dress,
And she decide we have to stay far, anyway
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Like a police sirene come fast stichie cry
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
You can hear me a shout it out ten thousend times
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Like a police sirene come fast stichie cry
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Can you hear me a shout it out ten thousend times
This a me sincere apology, straight from me heart
And off me pickney (yes baby)
It going out to my number one lady,
Like don sliver far line, water run daily
Sorry, I do it, cant buy soldier lorry, cant sleep at night,
Never do it for sight, I am sorry, hush, but the car by rush,
Your little teeny weeny have me never need to crush.
Waw waw waw, waw waw waw waw
Waw waw waw, waw waw waw waw
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Like a police sirene come fast stichie cry
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Can you hear me a shout it out ten thousend times
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Like a police sirene come fast stichie cry
Waw waw waw want you back inna me life
Can you hear me a shout it out ten thousend times
Find me guilty, punish me for the crime (true)
But you have me a serve over time
Woman why do you have to treat me so cruel,
Full time, you put me on parole (true)
Its like you put me on the condemn block (true),
Over alcatraz pon the rock (true)
And a me try everyday, stichie saying, oh sorry,
This me have to cry
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cold Night
It is cold. The white moon
is up among her scattered stars--
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant's wife--among
her five children . . .
No answer. Pale shadows lie upon
the frosted grass. One answer:
It is midnight, it is still
and it is cold . . . !
White thights of the sky! a
new answer out of the depths of
my male belly: In April . . .
In April I shall see again--In April!
the round and perfects thighs
of the Police Sergeant's wife
perfect still after many babies.
Oya!
poem by William Carlos Williams
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He Talk I Am Sick
Yes i am sick because i can not standing on the street call out customer.
Yes i am sick because i can not go to Hotel with any customer after work.
Yes i am sick because i do not from far away come to beg an other men be father for the kid without marriage.
Yes i am sick because i do not going with the man i do never know before go to any where his country to make memories.
Yes i am sick because i do not sell my body.
Yes i am sick because i do not send my nude pictures to any man exchange some things.
Yes i am sick because i am not cheap women
Yes i am sick because i can not sleep with any men.
Yes i am sick because i am have only one Heart.
Yes i am sick because i can not betray without this love.
Yes i am sick because i must to hold on any things insult from the man without reason.
Yes i am sick because i am alway talking the truth.
Yes i am sick because i can not do any things or talk any things when i want to do i want to talk.
Yes i am sick because i am stupid, i am real in Love.
Yes that it is reason i am Sick.
Angel Aki
poem by Ester Worter
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May God Help The Poor Children
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
He try to shield them from police the police no mercy show
And the glue sniffing children of the streets at their hands suffer so.
I watched a documentary on Guatemala the saddest I've seen for years
The crimes against the children moved hardened heart to tears
The police of Guatemala beat the street kids to death
How can men do such evil things and not live to regret? .
The street kids of Guatemala they know Bruce Harris well
He try to keep them from the streets from life of crime and hell
He try to shield them from police from cruel inhuman men
His is an uphill battle a battle hard to win.
He help the homeless children the children of the street
He give them clothes and shelter he give them food to eat
And may God help the poor children such suffering they go through
And God bless all those who help them and God bless Bruce Harris too.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dear Father
Anderson / squire
(originally released in 1970 as a single, not included on time and a word)
Here are the books
Of luke
You*ll need them
To open the seed
To see what goes on in the world
You*re in my mind
Catch the wind and hold on tight
To what we*ll find
And hear what goes on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s anything you*d like to say
That could help me in any way
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long for you to come along
Help me on that day
When you*d take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know?
Is there anything before I go?
Dear father, i*m hungry, i*m cold
Dear father, feeling terribly old
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
They*re on their own
Needing their face, a place
Hope....home
To see what goes on in the world
They*re who you need
To show them why they*re wrong
Oh why indeed
We need to go on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s any complication
That you*d like to talk over with me about
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long
For you to come along
We can work it all out
When you take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know
Is there anything before I go
Dear father, you must be putting me on
Dear father, cause most of their minds are gone
Dear father, they will not understand me
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, can I give it a miss
Dear father, cause i*m not ready for this
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, won*t you leave me alone
Dear father, won*t you to let me go home
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
Dear father, won*t they crucify me
Dear father, I just couldn*t do that
Dear father, cause that*s not where it*s at now (hey)
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Father
Anderson / squire
(originally released in 1970 as a single, not included on time and a word)
Here are the books
Of luke
You*ll need them
To open the seed
To see what goes on in the world
You*re in my mind
Catch the wind and hold on tight
To what we*ll find
And hear what goes on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s anything you*d like to say
That could help me in any way
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long for you to come along
Help me on that day
When you*d take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know?
Is there anything before I go?
Dear father, i*m hungry, i*m cold
Dear father, feeling terribly old
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
They*re on their own
Needing their face, a place
Hope....home
To see what goes on in the world
They*re who you need
To show them why they*re wrong
Oh why indeed
We need to go on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s any complication
That you*d like to talk over with me about
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long
For you to come along
We can work it all out
When you take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know
Is there anything before I go
Dear father, you must be putting me on
Dear father, cause most of their minds are gone
Dear father, they will not understand me
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, can I give it a miss
Dear father, cause i*m not ready for this
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, won*t you leave me alone
Dear father, won*t you to let me go home
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
Dear father, won*t they crucify me
Dear father, I just couldn*t do that
Dear father, cause that*s not where it*s at now (hey)
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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A Depressed Bubble
His eyes twinkled,
When water bowled along,
With a heavy heart full of grief he stood there,
Feeling out of sorts.
Thinking what would happen to his mother,
When she'll know he got a D,
Thinking what would happen to his father,
Knowing his son couldn't reach his expectations.
Hearing his father's footsteps the boy ran away,
How would he face his father,
How would he face his mother,
What would he say to them?
Only this that they shouldn't have expected much from him,
Or rather blame himself?
His father called out his name,
He couldn't bare the pain,
It was the third time his hard work had went in vain,
The boy thought of nothing,
And while the father reached,
He was horrified for he saw blood stains on the floor,
And no sign of his child.
Teardrops wetted his clothes,
And all that he cited was,
Did you came to see me,
Or did you wished me to go with just tears in my eyes and blood on my hands.....
Written on 10/20/10
poem by Ayesha Riaz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I win and get the money, then the Oakland Police department is going to buy a boys' home, me a house, my family a house, and a Stop Police Brutality Center.
quote by Tupac Shakur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother, Father
Mother, father please explain to me
Why a world so full of mystery
A place so bitter and still so sweet
So beautiful and yet so full of sad, sad...
Mother, father please explain to me
Why forests march to desert speed
While snowcapped mountains melt away
What do we tell our babies, when do we say, oh
Mother, father please explain to me
How a man who rocks his child to sleep
Pulls the trigger on his brothers heart
He digs a hole right to the middle of this storm of hatred
Mother, father please explain to me
How it could be so this world has come to be
A precious balance in between
Such cruelty and such kindness please
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
Unequaled in her blessings, oh, I see
Unbridled hatred so extreme, please tell me
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be so
Twisted between time and dreams
Oh, mother, father please explain to me
Oh, whats all this talk about?
All this talk about it
Spinning down, down, down, down, down
All this talk about
Endless words without
Nothings done
Mother, father do you know
Why one mans belly overflows
Another sleeps in hungers bed
Oh, we trade our world for a piece of bread
Oh mother, father please explain to me
How this rare worlds come to be
A place so full of color yet overflowing
Always in black and white
Drowning in the waters of our...
Mother, father please explain to me
How this world has come to be
While still blessed in all the things we see
Such a sad, sad home for you and me
Come out, and hold,
Come on out you
Come on out you
Come and save yourself
Come on out you
Come on were taking the water
Were taken the water
Were taken the water
But you know
We got the freedom
We got the freedom
Theres no God above
And no hell below
Oh, its here with us
Its up to us
To keep afloat
How this sweet world has come to be
Oh to keep afloat
Mother, father please explain to me
How this rare world has come to be
Oh, let the blue planet
Let the blue planet
Mother, father please explain to me
Mother, father please explain
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wreck of the Golfer
It was the Bondi golfing man
Drove off from the golf house tee,
And he had taken his little daughter
To bear him company.
"Oh, Father, why do you swing the club
And flourish it such a lot?"
"You watch it fly o'er the fences high!"
And he tried with a brassey shot.
"Oh, Father, why did you hit the fence
Just there where the brambles twine?"
And the father he answered never a word,
But he got on the green in nine.
"Oh, Father, hark from behind those trees,
What dismal yells arrive!"
"'Tis a man I ween on the second green,
And I've landed him with my drive."
"Oh, Father, why does the poor Chinee
Fall down on his knees and cry?"
"He taketh me for his Excellency,
And he thinks once hit twice shy."
So on they fared to the waterhole,
And he drove with a lot of dash,
But his balls full soon in the dread lagoon
Fell down with a woeful splash.
"Oh, Father, why do you beat the sand
Till it flies like the carded wool?"
And the father he answered never a word,
For his heart was much too full.
"Oh, Father, why are they shouting 'fore'
And screaming so lustily?"
But the father he answered never a word,
A pallid corpse was he.
For a well-swung drive on the back of his head
Had landed and laid him low.
Lord save us all from a fate like this
When next to the links we go.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rosie Roberts
I was sick, but more than that, I was mad
At the crooked police, and the crooked game of life.
So I wrote to the Chief of Police at Peoria:
"I am here in my girlhood home in Spoon River,
Gradually wasting away.
But come and take me, I killed the son
Of the merchant prince, in Madam Lou's,
And the papers that said he killed himself
In his home while cleaning a hunting gun --
Lied like the devil to hush up scandal,
For the bribe of advertising.
In my room I shot him, at Madam Lou's,
Because he knocked me down when I said
That, in spite of all the money he had,
I'd see my lover that night."
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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W. M. A.
He won the lottery when he was born
Took his mothers white breast to his tongue
Trained like dogs, color and smell
Walks by me to get to him police man (2x)
He won the lottery by being born
Big hand slapped a white male merican
Do no wrong, so clean cut...
Dirty his hands, it comes right off
Police man (2x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (2x)
Jesus greets me...looks just like me...
Do no wrong, so clean cut
Dirty his hands, it comes right off
Police man (3x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (2x)
Police stopped my brother again (3x)
Police man (3x)
All my pieces set me free...human devices set me free...
All my pieces set me free... (2x) } (2x)
Human devices set me free... (2x) }
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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‘father”:
'A FATHER IS SOMEONE WHO'S THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED HIM
A FATHER NEVER LETS YOU DOWN
A FATHER IS SOMEONE THERE TO HUG YOU WHEN SOMETHING GOES WRONG
A FATHER IS THERE TO DRY UP THE TEARS
A FATHER IS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO LEAVES THE MOTHER WHEN HE FINDS OUT SHE'S PERGANT
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO DENYS THEIR OWN CHILD
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO LEAVES YOU LEFT BEHIND
A FATHER IS'NT SOMEONE WHO SAYS ONE THING TO ONE PERSON THEN SAYS ANOTHER THING TO SOMEONE ELSE
A FATHER IS’NT WHAT I SEE IN YOU”
poem by Yeslin Salazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Come Home, Father!
'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --
Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."
poem by Henry Clay Work
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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