Only Of A Better Life
Just to keep on living from day to day
Most people are brave in their own sort of way
Just hanging in there when the going is tough
Survival for some it is quite hard enough
Millions of people by life knocked about
Living in war zones and Lands ravaged by drought
Millions sleep rough under the open sky
Who said success is there for those who try?
In refugee camps millions of refugees
Waiting for placements in Lands overseas
Yet in refugee camps they are destined for to stay
With their daydreams of a better life far away
Hunger and racism erodes their self esteem
Only of a better life they can dream.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Tomorrow Is Another Day
There always is tomorrow you hear some people say
But for many tomorrow will me much like today
In the refugee camps of the World thirty million refugees
From war ravaged and drought stricken Countries waiting for placements overseas
In living conditions poor and overcrowded they are obliged to stay
No Country seems to want them that does seem sad to say
Even the wealthy Nations have their own homeless poverty is Worldwide
Due to their circumstance of birth to millions success has been denied
That there always is tomorrow so happens to be true
Though the millions of homeless and displaced better Karma are surely due
Than what life is giving them millions dare not to look ahead
And many far too many only wishing they were dead
That tomorrow is another day with that most would agree
But tomorrow will be like today for those in poverty.
poem by Francis Duggan
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That Millions Do Live In Poverty
That millions do live in poverty should never be seen as okay
The gap between the haves and the have nots keeps getting bigger by the day
Everyone should have the chance to live happy a home to live in and enough for to eat
There never should be slums and ghettos and never a poverty street,
That millions are born to live in poverty and to end their hard lives in despair
Only tells us if there's a god that god favours the wealthy and that god is not very fair
To leave millions homeless and dying of malnutrition the people condemned to die poor and young
In the refugee camps of the World live the displaced, the poor and unsung,
In the age of celebrity worship the poor in millions multiply
Why millions are destined to be poor don't ask me I wouldn't know why
Even in the World's wealthiest Countries poor people are no longer rare
And millions and millions of have nots in the bigger World out there
And millions are dying of hunger and millions are doing it tough
And millions are displaced and homeless and as refugees living it rough.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Don't Tell Me About It I Already Know
Don't tell me about it I already know
That money on bushes and trees does not grow
Yet of it some do have far more than enough
Whilst millions of poor people are doing it tough.
The unequal distribution of wealth seems humanity's shame
For every millionaire hundreds without a penny to their name
Homeless and hungry on poverty street
They hardly would know of the taste of good meat.
So many of life's opportunities denied
Their circumstance of birth their future's for them decide
Of their lives of poverty of varying degrees
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.
Don't tell me about it I know all too well
That millions are living in their earthly hell
Money breeds inequality doesn't that seem unfair
It is a rat race in the big World out there.
poem by Francis Duggan
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On Life Choices
Only one can be president and only one can be pope
And for every millionaire many struggle to cope
With the business of living, poor people are not rare
There are billions of them in the big World out there.
For many life is a battle uphill all of the way
The people who do survive from day to day
To stay out of jail for them a remarkable feat
For many the road to prison starts on Poverty Street.
In the refugee camps of the World thirty million mostly war refugees
And in drought ravaged Countries people dying of hunger and disease
We do have life choices some are known to say
Those who look at life in a simplistic way.
To some people life choices only apply
Most born into poverty though hard they try
Will never be wealthy or know of happiness
Their crime to be born at the wrong address.
poem by Francis Duggan
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So Many Poor Souls And Not Many Who Care
So many poor souls and not many who care
Are doing it quite tough in the big World out there
The homeless and hungry teenagers of poverty street
Are searching in rubbish bins for something to eat
The gap is increasing in the social divide
And millions are Stateless and Homeless and hungry World wide
The victims of droughts and wars and disease
In the refugee camps millions of refugees.
The marginalized are doing it quite tough
On poverty street they are sleeping rough
People should not have to go hungry in the World of today
But such is not the case that does seem sad to say
For one wealthy person thousands in poverty
Those who need far more than words of sympathy
People who look old before they reach their life's prime
To be born to poor parents is their only crime.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I've Heard Enough Talk
I've heard enough talk about football though many others have said as much before
Yesterday's game replayed today though one can say we do know the score
'Twould seem to me sport's a diversion from our life problems of day to day
But if that is what makes some people happy then to say the least that seems okay.
I've heard enough talk about cricket one might say far more than enough
In this twenty first century of glorified sports stars so many are doing it tough
Some thirty million refugees in refugee camps of their stories too few wish to hear
The victims of war, drought and famine they know about suffering and fear.
I've heard enough talk about golf and tennis far more than I've wished for to hear
The top players over celebrated they grow financially wealthier by millions each year
When thousands are homeless and hungry for every proclaimed millionaire
So many are doing it so hard in the bigger World out there.
I've heard enough talk of millionaire soccer players enough people them do celebrate
They don't have me to thank for their millions and their egos I do not inflate
'Twould seem to me sport is a diversion from the sadness of the World we live in
Where so many are destined to lose out for the few born lucky to win.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Downfall Of Human Kind
The downfall of human kind it would seem to me
Are greed and corruption, homelessness and poverty
And patriotism and religion and National pride
All of these things lead to war and they are World-wide.
In a World where millions are dying of hunger and disease
The refugee camps are full of refugees
Millions displaced due to war and famine of great suffering they know
The people fleeing war zones with nowhere to go.
Even in so called wealthy Nations poverty is rife
And the ruthless look on the poor as the losers in life
Far too many homeless on poverty street
With nowhere to live and with little to eat.
Some grow wealthy and successful though they lie and cheat
The capitalist system has failed us complete
Thousands must grow poorer for every new millionaire
Do not tell me that the capitalist system is fair.
So much poverty in the big World out there
And so many are living in hopeless despair
But one falsehood with some sadness we recall
The lie we believed of a 'fair go for all'.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Will Find Poverty
You will find poverty in the U S and Great Britain, in France and in Japan,
In Canada and in Australia, New Zealand as well as Iran
In South America and Europe, Africa and all through Asia as well
Throughout the Human World some in their Earthly Hell
In the past decade millions of people of hunger have died
As the gap between the haves and the have nots grow wide
In the World's wealthiest Countries homeless people not rare
So many poor people for every millionaire
And the social divide growing wider by the day
And that the poor are growing poorer does seem sad to say
In The Human World poverty of varying degrees
In the refugee camps millions of refugees
And poverty not a stranger anywhere
So many poor souls in the big World out there.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Forgotten Hungry And Homeless
The forgotten hungry and homeless nowadays to be found everywhere
There are millions of them close to a billion in the bigger World out there
The refugees of drought stricken Lands and of warlords and the homeless of Poverty Street
Basic human rights of them are denied shelter from the weather and enough for to eat
In a Human World where everyone is supposed to be equal after all we breathe in the same air
But the poor and the homeless and the hungry cannot feel that life is very fair
The minority those who are too wealthy people with too much of everything
Are people that many look up to though their praises I cannot sing,
In an egalatarian Human World everyone would have a home to live in
And nobody would be without food and well dressed and not ragged and thin
The poor by the day growing poorer and that does seem a sad thing to say
And the refugee camps of the World are all overcrowded today,
'Tis sad to think that from the poverty of many that a minority does stand to gain
And I with enough of food and shelter have no reason for to complain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Don't Tell Me About It
Don't tell me about it life can be unfair
The homeless and paupers have never been rare
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
The victims of hunger and war and disease
Don't tell me about it I already know
That where weeds are abundant the grass does not grow
'Tis a near and impossible climb to success and renown
For those who are born and raised in the poor side of town
The landscape around us destroyed by men of greed
Those who worship money are not a rare breed
Where pollution is rife there is only decay
For the greed of the greedy we all have to pay
Don't tell me about it I already know
That the seed of a parsnip into a carrot doesn't grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Dream - Refugee-free Civil Society
Refugee is some one who was
REFUsed the right to reside further
In the land to which he belongs
Got Evicted and guardedly placed
Elsewhere
When a new system of governance
Comes in replacing an existing one
This issue arises
War and one of its attendant social issues
Is managing refugees
A civilized society
Cannot claim it to be so
If it has in its midst
A number of refugees
And an exclusive camp where refugees stay
It is scar on the entire human race
Which, at present, is the highly civilized
And is always on the path of development
With so many facilities
Adding up each second that passes
The condition of a refugee
Is far beyond the description
Of being pathetic
They do not have a place to stay
Leave alone the house
And the homely environment
Some of them had a great living
Before getting evicted
Leaving back in their home land
Properties much beyond the reach of many
In the land where they are “settled”
For no fault of theirs
But simply because of the
Clash of two warring segments
Who constitute only a miniscule
Of the entire people in trouble
No future in sight
No present in hand
Only a painful past
Haunting them all through
It is hard to believe
That some camps run for decades
Do they not deserve
The normal living others
Both in their ex-land and in their entry-land
Are enjoying
It is a shame
On the organized living
And no development means any thing
To the human race
As long we have a refugee
In our midst
They need emotional, economical
And the other social support
If you really feel
They are also human beings
It is a wonder
That in natural systems
There is no living thing
Which suffers this refugee stamp
Will there be a day
When we will have a refugee-free
Civil Society
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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In A World Where Money Only Matters
When your amount of money can say more about you than words of you can ever say
It does not speak volumes of the society that we have to live in today
If that only speaks of our true worth it does not say much for humanity
When you say money only matters you seem spiritually bankrupt to me.
In a World where money only matters how poor indeed we all must be
Not surprising that so many people are living in dire poverty
If a few have the most of the money what does that mean for the majority
They struggle just for to make ends meet and they are poor financially.
In this 21st century of big Corporations we now have the privileged few
The wealthy are only growing greedier as more millions in cash they pursue
And thousands they have to grow poorer for every new millionaire
And for millions all around the World about life there is nothing fair.
When we are valued by our worth in money we surely are spiritually poor
The wealthy they keep getting wealthier and for the disease of greed there is no cure
And thousands every day dying of starvation and thousands are dying of disease
And in the refugee camps of the World there are thirty million refugees
poem by Francis Duggan
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Obama or McCain
Why should I care who is the next U S President Obama or McCain
Since from who wins or loses I won't stand to gain
I do live far distant of the U S of A
Many thousands of miles that does seem far away.
'Tis all about success and ego and about self esteem
And 'tis all about power little else it does seem
But the poor of the U S as poor will remain
And it should not matter to them who wins Obama or McCain.
This is all about money and all about power
Though many never know of a good meal or of a warm shower
So many live rough on the poor side of town
Whilst McCain and Obama compete for renown.
In the refugee camps of the World millions of refugees
Who live hungry where there is squalor and disease
McCain or Obama will not help them in any way
Do you think this is not a fair thing to say?
The rewards of the power and the glory the winners will reap
And to the U S Presidental Election I will not lose any sleep
Whether 'tis Obama or McCain why should I much care
Since they are both power hungry people and their type not
rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Long Drought Is Over
The long drought is over some weather experts believe
But weather patterns the experts have been known to deceive
In parts of the Country huge flooding the weather seems strange
But then we are in the age of climate change
The ferocity of Nature cannot be denied
In flooding tragedies up country seven people have died
Their cars by the flood were swept off of the roadway
Their deaths by drowning the big news story of the day
For to combat extreme weather patterns we need more than God on our side
Nowadays Natural disasters are occuring Worldwide
In drought ravaged Lands millions of refugees
And thousands are dying of hunger and disease
The long drought is over some weather experts do say
But the moods of Nature changing every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Compared To Most I Feel So Lucky
Compared to most I feel so lucky I never have known hunger pain
I've always had a warm bed to sleep in and I've never slept out in the rain
In a World where millions are homeless and millions live in poverty
I am one of the lucky people one of the privileged minority.
In a World where the poor are forgotten and where millions for success compete
Millions are slowly dying of malnutrition their dream is enough food to eat
The suburb of the wealthy and famous the breeding ground of self conceit
By motor car only a short drive from the squalor of Poverty Street.
Compared to most I am so lucky though I'll never be a millionaire
Lady Luck she has always been with me and by life I've been treated fair
The distribution of wealth is disgraceful the reason for inequality
Compared to most I am so lucky I do feel life's been good to me.
I may not have an abundance of money but I have enough of it for to get by
I do feel the tag of Mr Lucky to one like me has to apply
Compared to most I feel quite privileged I do not have any cause to complain
Lady Luck has always been with me and with me I hope she remain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Pack Of Lies
That from hard work and endeavour up the social rank you will rise
To me anyhow does seem a pack of lies
'Tis just an old cliche that and nothing more
That some like to quote and we have heard before.
Even in so called prosperous Countries today
Some of the hardest working people work for survival pay
Many honest and willing workers living in poverty
Life for them seems unfair that's how 'twould seem to me.
Many of who on the theory of hard work believe
Say if you do not work hard from life you cannot receive
Yet many of the billionaires of mining and property development and oil
Have never experienced the hardship of toil.
Just an antiquated cliche it does seem indeed
That those who work hardest in life do succeed
The underpaid workers create many a billionaire
For millions around the World life does seem unfair.
I know of an old bloke who has worked hard in his working life
And he struggled for to pay for the funeral of his wife
Just one more poor hard worker his type are everywhere
There are millions of them in the big World out there.
poem by Francis Duggan
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For Millions Out There
For millions out there life is an Earthly Hell
Of hardship and suffering they only can tell
In camps overcrowded with climate and war refugees
Many suffer and die of hunger and disease.
Condemned to Homelessness, Statelessness and Poverty by birth circumstance
Of any success in life they do not stand a chance
The poor and forgotten not wanted anywhere
For many life can be so hard in the big World out there.
In the Human World where the gap between the haves and have nots keeps growing ever wide
Many do end their miserable lives in suicide
And more sad stories of oppression and dispossession we read of and hear every day
Equality from Humanity seems so far away.
A right to a fair go Human Society them does deny
Only to the lucky minority life choices apply
Of hardship and Homelessness and poverty they know
And in a time of economic depression and climate change their numbers do grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Into Homelessness
into homelessness
today suddenly I woke up from deadness
I was dead peacefully
All a beautiful death
My home -your home could only be this beautiful earth-
So I presumed I also reign high on this beautiful earth like you
When you leave to live
from one country to another country
You say
one home to another home
I thence also drew a border in my mind
When people say you are homeless and
I am into homelessness…into bigger home called the BIG EARTH.
And my heart turning in that pulse into another heart so BIG
I shrunk out from into these unlimitedness
From the world of my deadness to my aliveness
Again I shall be playing a game of
deadness and aliveness
Aliveness and deadness
So I am alive today
What do I want to know
Surrounded by the sounds of Silence and solitude-
These walls are all I feel protected-these walls
A way my life designed and desired
The world can pierce through these silences-these walls
And reach me- so far the world in the form of Television
I also depend on the Television to know everything
Shot by shot
Scene by scene
Frame by frame
Channels upon channels
Breaking news is my breakfast now
Still the game of yours and mine
Mine and yours was live in the air
fresh exodus of Reang refugees from Mizoram
repatriation of 35,000 Bru people living in six refugee camps in Kanchanpur.
More than 300 huts were set ablaze along Tripura-Mizoram border.
Three refugee camps at Dhamdoey, Zoudiah and Tuipuibari
News aboard News home -all lost in New
UN refugee camps-Oru village Israel, Palestine Jews, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Nigeria
Thousands in Tibet wounded this and that
Burundians refugee camps-Tanzanian refugee camps
In the process
14.9 million refugees in the world including you and me…
many more will be because atleast already 22 million been internally displaced within their home including me and you
women suffers including me as a woman
in the constructed process-in and out home -
cold war civil war world war
Liberian civil war-2,15,000 refugees in the process 40% of women were raped
torture and traumas-rape, murder, molestation…
humanity in PROSTITUTION
silent protest of sufferings and struggles alive in M.in.D
humanity silenced all dead
Refugees
Hundreds of refugees in Cheopliang
I met a friend from America
Never feeling homeless, who carry the GLOBE in his backpack
I met a little boy from Cheopliang Refugee.Camp.
Asking his mother
Where on earth is my home
Mother replies-
the mother earth and your heart
i loved this part of the world
For they found this beautiful earth
For they found love-
smiling silently for they have crossed the border
no question no answer
I picked the eraser
and erased all from my mind the thickening border
Another they called me refugee
I was happy I am homeless
I was happy I am a refugee
I also found love in this lost
I was standing like a patriot in a nameless country
Holding the globe in my hand
NEWS of bloodshed reddened the screen of the Television
Load shedding
Suddenly the Tele. vision lay numb
The whole world shrunk into zero
poem by Lovita J R Morang
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Millions of water drops
drops of water
millions of drops
Falling down the rocks
Millions of water drops
Glittering in the sun
Shining like pearls
Millions of water drops
Ending as a river
Finding way to ocean
Millions of water drops
Creating childrens happiness
Laughter and joyfullness
Millions of water drops
Soon will tide reach
White long shores
Millions of water drops
Animating Waves
into forming caves
Millions of water drops
splittering from above
till reaching top of the hill
Millions of water drops
Without them no sound
No whispers of the living
Millions of water drops
Watch the clearness
From crest to earth
Millions of water drops
For tribe’s best
Beware of waste
Millions of water drops
Treasured should they be
As belonging to all humanity
(march 2008, Switzerland)
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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On Poverty Street
On Poverty Street and Refugee camps far away
The struggles of life it goes on every day
The struggles to live in the face of despair
The have nots of the World have never been rare
The homeless and hungry obliged to sleep rough
And many far too many are doing it tough
And thousands are growing poorer for each new millionaire
No such a thing as equality in the big World out there
On the people of Poverty Street the drug dealers prey
For their own gain they treat their fellow human beings in a disrespectful way
For money to feed their addictions the poor sinned against turn to crime
And they end up in jail for a considerable time
On Poverty Street there is no cause for cheer
And of success stories from there one seldom does hear.
poem by Francis Duggan
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