Teacup Cat
The teacup cat
Why do people call me a teacup cat?
Why do people use me as a toy cat?
Why do people keep me in their hat?
I don’t want to be a tiny cat.
I don’t want to be scared of rat.
I want to be a normal cat.
I just want to be a proud cat.
poem by Davesh Rajeev
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Have Not
Some people have not a worry;
Some people have not a care –
As to money, or where they’ll sleep
Or what they’ll eat or wear…
some people take it for granted
Their luck in all these things;
Some people have not that privilege –
For some people have not anything.
Some people have not a worry;
Some people have not a care –
’Cause they’ve always had a place to call home
And a filling meal to share…
Some people think this is normal;
Some people have never thought
That for others it’s not normal at all –
’cause some people have nought.
Yet money can’t buy happiness;
Or peace of mind maintain
Some of the happiest people
Have not a penny to their name.
Can’t put a price on happiness
Where would you even start?
Peace of mind is priceless
But now I have not even that…
Divineness
A tiny teacup
Reveals an abstract future
From the clinging leaves.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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What's wrong with our world?
Why are people abused
Why are people shot
Why do people commit suicide
Why are people anorexic and bulimic
Why do people care more about money than family
Why do people call themselves fat or ugly
Why are kids kidnapped and killed
Why do people die
Why do people tell you they love you and take it back
Why do people hurt each other
Why are people raped
Why do people cut themselves
Why do people hate their lives
Why do teenagers get pregnant
Why do people call each other names
Why are people raciest
Why are people depressed
Why are people put in mental hospitals
Why do peole do drugs
Why do people cuss
Why do people not care what happens to them
Why do people care what others think of them
What's wrong with our world
poem by Allison Boyles
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People People
People, people wherever you are
Wake and listen
It wont take long
People, people wherever you are
Father wants to hear from you all
Its a shame but its no tragedy
Youve been gone much too long
Cant you see running scared
Please come back to me
Dieux vouis appelle
Callin
People, people wherever you are
Wake and listen
It wont take long
People, people wherever you are
Father wants to hear from all you
Its a shame but its no tragedy
Youve been gone much too long
Cant you see running scared
Theres still time to get in touch
With me
Dieux vouis appelle
This bulletin just in
Another story of a run-away child
Whose anguished father wants her
Back home
If anyone has any information
Regarding her whereabouts
Please call this emergency number
432-8360
She contemplates just for a moment
She turns again to get it straight
Takes the phone and dials
The number
Just in time to hear him say
Its a shame but its no tragedy
Youve been gone much too long
Cant you see running scared
Please come back to me
Call people please call
People please call
People please call
People please call
People please call me
Ooh call me
Dieux vouis appelle
People, people wherever you are
Father wants you to give him a call
People, people wherever you are
Wake and listen it wont take long
People, people wherever you are
Father wants you to give him a call
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Guns
Tiny people, with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny soldiers, with little guns
Little tanks, no bigger than your thumb
They want you
Little people, with tiny brains
Little bullets flowing, in their veins
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny people with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
They want you, you
You, you, you, you
Little airplanes, with tiny bombs
Little squadrons, dropping thimbles of napalm
They want you
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny people, with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
You, you
You, you, you, you
Tiny people, little guns
Tiny people, little guns
Tiny people, little guns
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Phat
The word 'fat' is a term,
That 'skinny people' use,
Because they don't know what else to say,
When they see a 'fat person.'
No one has to be so rude about it,
When they see a 'fat person' eating ice cream,
Or sitting around watching others,
But some 'skinny people' don't understand to just dropp a conversation.
The word 'rude' is what 'fat people' use when someone makes fun of them,
'Fat people' are all over the world,
And yet - 'skinny people' don't want to accept the fact that 'fat people' are in this cruel world,
So some 'skinny people' have to act like they're all that and be mean to others.
There are people in this world that are 'low class' and are different from the people in the 'higher class, '
Because some people in the 'lower class' goes into depression and eat,
Because of the events happening in their life,
And so they become 'fat.'
But what 'skinny people' explain,
Is that they are slobs and can't eat normal instead of shoving food down their throat,
But what 'fat people' explain,
Is that they try to lose weight, but some of them can't because it's hard.
'Skinny people' make fun of them and 'fat people' let them,
Because some 'skinny people' don't know how it feels like to be 'fat, '
And some 'skinny people' call 'fat people' ugly and of course 'fat, '
But what 'skinny people' don't know is that we all are phat.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Why are people always
Why are people always cheating?
Why are people always fighting?
Why are people always dieing?
Why are people always crying?
Why are people always hating?
Why are people always debating?
Why are people always trading?
Why are people always trying to fit in?
Why are people always cursing?
Why are people always bursting?
Why are people always tripping?
Why are people always not trying to be fair?
Why are people always trying to be dumb?
Why are people always playing too much?
Why are people always misbehaving?
Why are people always do drugs?
Why are people always not trying to have a future?
Why do people always try to ruin their life?
Why?
poem by Shaquan Mack
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Can 'YOU' Answer This?
Why do people always talking about other people?
Why do people want everything their way?
Why do people complain?
Why do people attend not to care about others? Just when they want something or want to know something?
Why do people want to be like everybody else? It is a word call' UNIQUE'
Why do people act like they are better then others? When God said, 'EVERYBODY IS EQUAL.'
Why do people have a negative attitude? When someone is doing something positive.
Why don't people just don't understand?
Hello! I ask you can you answer this and you said 'YES' I just want to know WHY?
poem by Shawanda Polk
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Get It Right
Get it right...... people dont know who cry's at night
people cant get it right
people dont know who's scared
people just dont seem to care those peopple just cant get it right
people cant tell who's all alone
people cant tell who feels all alone
in a crowed room
people just cant get it right! ! !
people dont know who is scared at night
people just cant get it right! ! ! !
poem by Ashley Green
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The People's World
people are good;
people are bad;
people are happy;
people are sad;
people are near;
people are far;
people are true;
people are blue;
people are white;
people are right;
people are silent;
people are violent;
people can throw;
people can grow;
people can share;
people can care;
people can unite;
people can divide;
people can fool;
people can rule;
people can trust;
people are worst;
don't think i became mad.... what ever i wrote is very common things known about people but what i want to show is that i cannot describe everything about the people as it is impossible in the same way it is impossible to understand and make every person happy around us that's it.got it!
poem by Fahmina Arjumand Misha
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I Know People
I know people who help you through the night.
And I know people who
fight that very good fight.
And, I know people who're goin for the gold.
And, I know people got them aces so you better fold.
I know people who are quick to light your cigarette.
And, I know people who say 'Buddy, ya ain't seen nothin yet.'
I know people who're workin harder every day.
And I know people who got kids come out to play.
I know people, you know people, said, I'm not so different from you.
Won't you be one of my people who
Who do too.. Won't you be one of my people who.
I know people who
are cruisin up and down the track, and
I know people who
won't be comin back.
I know people ridin too high at the wheel.
And, I know people, there to cut you that dirty deal.
I know people who'll take you into town. And, I know people who
really get around.
And I know people who're buskin up and down the mall.
And, I know people who're gonna take a fall.
I know people, you know people, see, I'm not so different from you?
Won't you be one of my people too. Said, won't you be one of my people who, who do too.
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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A Asome Poem About PEOPLE
Some people
Care about you, some people
Don’t care,
Make fun of you and walk away,
Some people,
Run past, some people
Hand you presents,
Give you a pat on the back,
Some people
You love, some people
You don’t know
Some people, some people,
You do,
Some people
You notice, some people
Eat cauliflower, some people
Are teenagers,
Some people walk to restaurants,
Sit down at the counter,
Eat there food, through it at
People,
Some people never notice you,
Some people always look, some people
Want to take you away, some people
Will never exist
Some people are other people; some people are you, some people
Die ever second,
Some people are you
poem by Annie Nosich
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Normal or Prejudice?
Normal is overrated,
People don’t seem to notice;
They are all looking through,
Silhouettes of images.
If you’re against a norm,
Religious or Political;
People around you becomes prejudice,
And speak strong words against you.
If there’s something different,
Physical or character;
They make fun of you,
And call you names.
What normal is to you,
May differ from another;
A lot can’t understand that truth,
Sticking to their stubborn beliefs.
Is this idea I’m talking about,
Normal or prejudice?
Answer this, test yourself,
Maybe you’ll learn something from it.
May 14,2009
poem by James Callos Jordan
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I see something wrong
Some people care about,
you.
Some people don't care
Would people listen to,
our lies?
Why are people abused
I see something wrong
There are pretty people
There ugly people
People play
People talk
I'm tired of people messing,
With me.
I guess people hate the truth
Some people are bad
Some people care
Others don't
Why do people cry?
This is life
I don't understand
Some people like to talk
Some people like to walk
Why people argue over nothing?
People act crazy
Why are people always cheating?
People that are lost
I admire people that have respect,
for others.
We are the people of the earth
What really goin on?
I really don't know
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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Power To The People
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Say you want a revolution
We better get on right away
Well you get on your feet
And out on the street
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
A million workers working for nothing
You better give em what they really own
We got to put you down
When we come into town
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
I gotta ask you comrades and brothers
How do you treat you own woman back home
She got to be herself
So she can free herself
Singing power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Now, now, now, now
Oh well, power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Yeah, power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people
Power to the people, right on
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I call it love
Some people call it obsession
I call it love
Some people call it a confession
I call it love
Some people call it torture
I call it love
Some people call it murder
I call it love
Some people call it a new life
I call it love
Some people call it death
I call it love
Some people call it suicide
I call it on love...
poem by Anonymous One
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Fake smiles
Everyday I smile to make people belive that I'm okay
They believe it too!
When will I be able to take off my mask?
Let people see the real me?
I let her out sometimes in my writing
But she scares me
She's a deamon that has taken over my body
That's why I'm scared to let her out
Scared to become her
Scared what she will do to me
Most of all I'm scared that she will take over and I'll loose this part of me.
poem by Marissa Ford
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Soldiers Heart
sir
i am no normal person
i was no normal child
brought up in the country
one view in my mind
this country we live in
this place we call home
this is my england
with honour to the thrown
i'd fight for queen and country
if the call was made
i'd fight under the flag
this is my way
people think im crazy
people think im mad
this is no normal heart
it is the heart of the soldier
born and bred a soldier
the title i never took
instead im known as police officer
a baton is my rifle
different colour uniform
my boots the same as all the soldiers
my heart the sames as theirs
so when you ask me my name sir
the reply that you will get
i am but a soldier sir
and that i will never forget
People in my life
Walking down the path of life,
A path often hard, uphill and difficult
I meet people who walk by my side
Some of them choose to touch me
Some of them I touch
Some of them hold my hand and walk with me
All of them scar me somehow
I've met mean people
Violent, angry people
People dark in the soul
People that look good on the outside
People funny and gracious on the surface
But void and empty on the inside
People who try to cover their defects but can't
Emotionally naive, eternally lonely, unhappy and troubled people.
I've met people who step on me to get taller
People who break me to feel better
People who want me for one night only
People who hurt me and don't care
Weird, strange and unstable people
No sense in their behavior
People who take advantage of what I give them
People who don't appreciate me
People who expunge me from their life for good
People who erase me and cancel me with a message
People who refuse to take my calls
People who avoid me like the plague
Irrational people who I want to know better
People who interest me nevertheless...
People who promise won't treat me bad
but do so anyway without explanation
People who reject me abruptly
People who switch me off with the push of a button
People careless about my feelings
Oblivious, confused and indifferent
People who jerk me around for a week
Playing with my vulnerable soul
and toss me in the garbage afterwards.
Why, I ask, why is this happening?
Have normal people disappeared from this world?
Is it me who allows them to step all over me?
Is it my eagerness to meet someone normal
that makes me a magnet for such strange behavior?
Any normal people left out there?
Please come hold my hand
As life's ticking away and I can't hold out any longer
Come and I'll forget all I've been through
I'll try to do it right this time
I'll try to give you just what you need, no more.
Come tonight, I miss you.
I'll be expecting you.
Written on April 3,2007
poem by CeCe Lamberts
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The Carlysles
[I was talking with a newspaper man the other day who seemed to think that the fact that Mrs. Carlyle threw a teacup at Mr. Carlyle should be given to the public merely as a fact. But a fact presented to the people without the proper--or even, if necessary, without the improper--human being to go with it does not mean anything and does not really become alive or caper about in people's minds. But what I want and what I believe most people want when a fact is being presented is one or two touches that will make natural and human questions rise in and play about like this: 'Did a servant see Mrs. Carlyle throw the teacup? Was the servant an English servant with an English imagination or an Irish servant with an Irish imagination? What would the fact have been like if Mr. Browning had been listening at the keyhole? Or Oscar Wilde, or Punch, or the Missionary Herald, or The New York Sun, or the Christian Science Monitor?"--GERALD STANLEY LEE in the Saturday Evening Post]
BY OUR OWN ROBERT BROWNING
As a poet heart- and fancy-free--whole,
I listened at the Carlyle's keyhole;
And I saw, I, Robert Browning, saw,
Tom hurl a teacup at Jane's jaw.
She silent sat, nor tried to speak up
When came the wallop with the teacup--
A Cup not filled with Beaune or Clicquot,
But one that brimmed with Orange Pekoe.
"Jane Welsh Carlyle," said Thomas, bold,
"The tea you brewed for m' breakfast's cold!
I'm feeling low i' my mind; a thing
You know b' this time. Have at you!" . . . Bing!
And hurled, threw he at her the teacup;
And I wrote it, deeming it unique, up.
* * * *
BY OUR OWN OSCAR WILDE
LADY LEFFINGWELL (coldly).--A full tea-cup! What a waste! So many good women and so little good tea.
[Exit Lady Leffingwell]
* * * *
FROM OUR OWN "PUNCH"
A MANCHESTER autograph collector, we are informed, has just offered £50 for the signature of Tea Carlyle.
* * * *
FROM OUR OWN "MISSIONARY HERALD"
From what clouds cannot sunshine be distilled! When, in a fit of godless rage, Mr. Carlyle threw a teacup at the good woman he had vowed at the altar to love, honour, and obey, she smiled and the thought of China entered her head.
Yesterday Mrs. Carlyle enrolled as a missionary, and will sail for the benighted land of the heathen tomorrow.
* * * *
FROM OUR OWN "NEW YORK SUN"
Fortunate is MRS JANE WELSH CARLYLE to have escaped with her life, though if she had not, no American worthy of the traditions of Washington could simulate acute sorrow. MR. CARLYLE, wearied of the dilatory demands of the BAKERIAN War Department, properly took the law into his own strong hands.
The argument that resulted in the teacup's leaving MR. CARLYLE'S hands was common in most households. It transpires that MRS. CARLYLE, with a Bolshevistic tendency that makes patriots wonder what the Department of Justice--to borrow a phrase from a newspaper cartoonist--thinks about, had begun championing the British-Wilson League of Nations, that league which will make ironically true our "E PLURIBUS UNUM"--one of many. Repeated efforts by MR. CARLYLE, in appeals to the Department of Justice, the Military Intelligence Division, and the City Government, were of no avail. And so MR. CARLYLE, like the red-blooded American he is, did what the authorities should have saved him from the embarrasing trouble of doing.
* * * *
FROM OUR OWN "CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR"
It is reported that Mr. Thomas Carlyle has thrown a teacup at Mrs. Carlyle, and much exaggerated and acrid comment has been made on this incident.
If it had been a whiskey glass, or a cocktail glass, the results might have been fatal. In Oregon, which went dry in 1916, the number of women hit by crockery has decreased 4.3 per cent in three years. Of 1,844 women in Oregon hit by crockery in 1915, 1,802 were hit by glasses containing, or destined to contain, alcoholic stimulants. More than 94 per cent of these accidents resulted fatally. The remaining 22 women, hit by tea or coffee cups, are now happy, useful members of society.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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