The Darker Side Of Sydney
There's more than glitz and glamour to Australia's biggest city Sydney has it's darker side
I've seen so many young people there their lives by drugs and booze destroyed
By trees in small parks and dimly lit laneways they sleep on the hard and bare ground
Near to where there's wealth and opulence there's great poverty to be found.
Many seem to think that for their poverty they only have themselves to blame
That they are lacking in their self worth and do not have a sense of shame
That they spend all of their welfare money on the buying of narcotics and booze
But it doesn't seem right to judge somebody if you have not walked in their shoes.
For to support their vices they must sleep rough and live on the cheap
And in the laneway off of Bourke St on the hard concrete they sleep
Yet I dare not criticize them and of them can only say
That they are the less fortunate of people and in life have lost their way.
One could say that their vices for them are now out of their control
But the weakness of the flesh is not a weakness of the soul
The soul of the poor and down and out despite the body's disrepair
Can have far more depth and feeling than the soul of the millionaire.
Australia's largest city to so many a sense of pride
But despite it's wealth and opulence Sydney has a darker side
And where there is glitter and glamour such great poverty abound
And far too many people living poor there and sleeping rough on the bare ground.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Every City, Town And Village
In every City, Town and Village the haves and have nots reside
But even the poorest of the poor have got their sense of pride
And it must be soul destroying for them to have to beg to stay alive
But pride has to take second place to the will to survive.
The wealthy growing wealthier and the poor growing poorer in the great social divide
And sad to say the gap between the haves and the have nots has never been so wide
Millions are dying of hunger and in camps for the homeless and Stateless overseas
At least thirty million people that's a lot of refugees.
Poverty is a relative thing some have been known to say
And the poor one in a prosperous Nation would be seen as wealthy in a poor Nation far away
But to live short of money anywhere is not a pleasant thing
'Tis seldom of the homeless soul that the balladeer does sing.
In every City, Town and Village there is inequality
And even in the wealthiest of Nations there is want and poverty
And though everybody in the World cannot be a millionaire
The unequal distribution of wealth seems so very unfair.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Lily Palmer
She doesn't ask much of life poor Lily Palmer
Just a small cabin by the Gippsland sea
Where she might sleep and from the weather shelter
'Your dreams are small when you're in poverty'.
Her life's belongings in a shopping trolley
She push it up through Bourke Street Mall each day
A tattered figure amongst the wealthy shoppers
She show her years in wrinkles and in gray.
Some look at her with looks of human pity
Whilst some with looks of scorn ask who is she?
But she has learnt to cope with disapproval
Nor does she welcome looks of sympathy.
The Salvation Army give her food and clothing
Without their help by now she may be dead
And she sleep on hard bench at Spencer Street Station
I do not envy Lily her cold bed.
She's sixty six too old for the rough lifestyle
And far too old for sleeping in the damp and cold
Life's never easy for the poor and needy
And so much harder for the poor and old.
It has been said she has a son and daughter
And that she has not laid eyes on them for years
She raised them on her own when times were better
But for her past she doesn't shed any tears.
Faces of wealth and affluence all around me
And amongst them the face of poverty I see
Through Bourke street Mall poor Lily slowly shuffles
Indifferent to both scorn and sympathy.
Still she has her dream and her dream seem quite modest
A small cabin in Gippsland somewhere by the sea
Where she might sleep and shelter from the weather
Your dreams are small when you're in poverty.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Hidden Poverty
In a Nation of many well off people they call it hidden poverty
The poor souls of the back streets that the wealthy never see
They live in condemned houses that are clearly in decay
And out of sight is out of mind or so 'twould seem that way.
In a Nation of many millionaires many live in a tent
People forced to become Homeless when their landlord on them raised their rent
The greed of the wealthy leads to homelessness and the numbers of the homeless multiply
The only roof that some know is the polluted Urban sky.
The Land of opportunity many have been known to say
Those who feel that all is rosy they themselves are doing okay
So many do grow poorer for every new millionaire
That is life some will tell you but life's not always fair.
In a Nation of many millionaires hidden poverty abound
And in the back streets of the City people sleep on the bare ground
Crudely referred to by some as losers and it seems sad to recall
That there was never such a thing as a 'fair go for all'.
poem by Francis Duggan
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I Already Know
There's no need to tell me I already know
That money on trees never blossoms or grow
Forty thousand in poverty for every millionaire
It is a rat race in the big World out there.
A long road to financial success and renown
For those who are born in the poor side of town
Condemned to be poor by their postal address
Without the right postal code the highbrows you won't impress.
It is common knowledge most will tell you so
'Tis not how clever you are it is who you do know
A wealthy person to you can be a good friend
A poor one has little money for to give or to lend.
In life I've been lucky quite lucky enough
I've never been hungry or had to sleep rough
I've never been Homeless or a Stateless refugee
Though I am aware of others poverty.
I already know you don't have to tell me
That money does not grow on a bush or a tree
Yet whilst some are worth millions and billions in money it seems sad to say
That many are dying of hunger every day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Sonnet: The Magic of Poverty
A birth in poverty is luck supreme!
A death in poverty, a great blessing;
A life of poverty is rare a dream;
Achievements great, stark poverty can bring.
’Tis poverty that goads nations do feats;
’Tis poverty that stimulates scientists;
In everything, poverty, wealth just beats;
The greatest men were in poverty’s lists.
And poverty lessens our worries much;
Account to God will be much easier;
Poverty gives the saint a divine touch;
In poverty, poets can fly higher!
Poverty helps to shun worldly pleasures;
A soul in poverty, Heaven allures.
9-14-2002
poem by John Celes
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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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The Children Of Poverty Street
At least spare a thought for the children the children of Poverty Street
They are homeless as young teenagers and against the odds they must compete
Their parents serving time for robbery and narcotic offences and most of their role models in jail
Their circumstance of birth is a huge mark against them the poor young people destined to fail.
They steal for to buy food, drugs and alcohol on Poverty Street life is tough
Too young much too young to be homeless without shelter and sleeping rough
They are pushed to the social fringes the young people society disown
Ignored by the Government Bureaucracies and to the Police only known.
Who could envy them their existence those born into cruel circumstance
The Gods are completely against them of success they do not stand a chance
For them life is such a great battle they must battle their ghosts of despair
They don't even dream of the good life to them life is very unfair.
You who waffle on of life's choices with you talk is always so cheap
Bet you were not homeless at thirteen and on a park bench had to sleep
You would not talk of life's choices if you had to steal for to eat
If you felt alone and abandoned like the children of Poverty Street.
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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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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Why Tell Me About It I know All Too Well
Why tell me about It I know all too well
That many are living in their Earthly Hell
The hungry the homeless the poor and downtrod
They must be the children of some Lesser God.
Why tell me about it I know for the have nots life must seem unfair
So many grow poorer for every new millionaire
The scourge of poverty rife in every Race
In a fair Human World this would not be the case.
Even in so called wealthy Nations poverty does abound
Not too far from where the rich live the homeless to be found
The streets of the poor suburb a breeding ground for crime
Where many don't live to enjoy their life's prime.
Why tell me about it of course I'm aware
That the poor of the World have never been rare
And millions are living in dire poverty
In a fair Human World this would never be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Amongst Wealth And Fame
Amongst wealth and fame there is great poverty
With such things should not happen here most would agree
A poor homeless bloke with only a mattress for a bed
On the embankment under a railway underpass for six months lay dead.
Under the railway underpass he died where he lay
For months undiscoverd that seems sad to say
A man in his forties one without a friend
He lived a sad life and his was a sad end.
In Melbourne Victoria this must be a lie
In such a wealthy City people of neglect never die?
But the facts tell us differently and i must make it clear
That it is not of fiction i am writing of here.
Some of the less kind will tell you we live and die as we choose
That he was one of those blokes destined to lose
And though they are entitled for to air their views
They seem to make light of what is quite sad news.
Six months he was dead when his remains were found
Amongst wealth and fame poverty does abound
It is not for one like him that you should pray
For if there is a heaven he is there today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Human Will Never Ceases To Surprise
'Tis hard to keep a good woman or man down
Even the one born on the poorest side of the town
Above the most dire poverty has been known to rise
The human will never ceases to surprise
You've heard about the female billionaire
By circumstance of birth she was not treated fair
A poor child of the poor side of the town
Like 'tis said 'tis hard to keep a good one down
Suppose it is in our life's destiny
That even from the depths of poverty
That one will rise and scale the heights of fame
And the once poor one becomes a celebrated name
Though to rise above poverty one does need
Great self belief as well as the will to succeed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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To Be The Best You Can Be Ought To Be Good Enough
There is good in most people and some in their ways kind
And amongst the egotistical greatness is a state of mind
And some very famous people towards humility inclined
But a truly perfect human being in the World you will not find
But to live as a good person is the best you can wish to be
Though with that I feel certain many would disagree
Millions daydream of wealth and fame and it would seem to me
That you will not find many people for to embrace poverty
But to be the best you can be ought to be good enough
In a Human World where millions are hungry, poor and homeless and living and sleeping rough
Always be kind to others and help those of help in need
One of the main causes of human poverty has to be human greed
Life is not an Earthly Paradise and many do live it tough
But to be the best you can be ought to be good enough.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Just Wealthy Whingers
Why do some very wealthy people see fit for to complain
When they already have more than enough seems beyond me to explain
Since to whinge they do not have a reason it does occur to me
That their money is not an antidote for their spiritual poverty
Worth millions in money and assets but it does seem sad to say
That their type more to be pitied spiritually poor in their small way
Like 'tis said much always wants more in their case this does apply
Why some wealthy people crave for more I really wonder why
Not far from their leafy suburb live the poor of poverty street
The homeless and the down and outs who never have enough to eat
Five hundred thousand dollars in yearly profit after tax and they complain for us not a good year
The more some have the more some want or so it does appear
They are just wealthy whingers some are so hard to please
In a World where millions of poor people are dying of hunger and disease.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Say About Life
You say about life that life for all is fair
You must have been talking to a billionaire
You want to know about life go to Poverty Street
And those who are doing it hard there you will meet.
The homeless and down and outs doing it tough
Without food or shelter obliged to sleep rough
That life for all is fair is so easy to say
For one like you with a good job and great take home pay.
On your philosophies on life I for one don't agree
So why bother waste your time on talking to me
Since I believe life's only fair for a minority
And not for the poor billions in poverty.
Your opinions are your's and that suits me fine
But your views on life are quite different to mine
With a great job, new home and healthy kids and a beautiful young wife
You are not one to be saying of a fair for all life.
poem by Francis Duggan
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We Are Generous
Please the poor with some money and riches of high nature,
These people need love, full of loveliness, and we are generous.
To individuals of highest repute I look at their heads
And then their hearts and wait for the day to arrive with achiness, when are they generous?
I am not poor or anything to do with the poor who are poverty,
Hearts of theirs gain momentum, we merely pass our test that is gorgeous, for we are generous.
The spoken tongue carries society further, and those without money bring
Us more money, but bring them no poverty, and bring gracefulness, we are so generous.
The tailor needed cloth, the blacksmith needs his metal, and the accountant also needs,
What of those with the flame in Hell? Their heaven is not their greatness, but we are generous.
Money has no objection to the riches being found, to the oil being discovered,
But fun is in the very life where living is explored with incisiveness, we are so generous.
Then talk never today but mutter with huge meaning, and never sleep too long,
But meet your creator with a giving heart and the soul is incredulous, for it is generous.
May we be heartiness, sweetness, and merry-making with all this wealth
Understood by men, by the kings and queens of infallibleness, for they are all generous.
poem by Naveed Akram
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On Overhearing Two Arguing About Poverty
I over heard two fellows arguing about poverty
Whilst I sat in the cafe drinking coffee
And in truth I could not help but overhear them
As they sat at the next table to me.
The older of the two a silver gray haired fellow
Said to rid the World of want and poverty
We would need to depose every despotic leader
But the younger bloke with him did not agree.
He said in so called wealthy societies there's want and hunger
And where affluence is poverty too abound
From here you don't walk far to see poor people
For poverty is everywhere around.
The older bloke countered but this is a free Country
And those in poverty have themselves only to blame
And if hungry people in our midst are living
Do not expect me to feel any shame
The younger man again with him did differ
Saying want is caused by those who only care
For themselves alone and their own self interest
Many must grow poorer for to make one millionaire.
I left them there in the cafe to argue
And not for me to say who is wrong or right
For both of them looked well dressed and well fed fellows
And they won't go to bed hungry tonight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Without A Few Good Laughs A Day
Success is only really what does matter if you go by with what most people do say
But life it would surely be very boring without a few good laughs a day
If you cannot laugh you're in trouble some even find it hard to smile
There are people with heaps of money who feel living life scarce worth-while
One has to feel sympathy for them their gift of life they don't enjoy
When they buy presents for their young child they buy the most expensive toy
Yet their money cannot make them happy they live their lives burdened by care
It Doesn't mean you will be happy when you become a millionaire
The praises of the rich and famous so many feel happy to sing
But if money could make people happy then money would buy everything
Unhappiness some people are born with and 'tis something money cannot cure
But I'd rather be wealthy and unhappy than being poor and miserable though the choice is a poor one for sure
If money could solve all of our problems then our biggest problem would be small
But money cannot buy you happiness and that's the greatest gift of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Their Great Lust For Life
In life for many every day there's some battle to fight
And many must go to bed hungry at night
That is those who do have a bed to sleep on
And any hope of success that they had from them gone.
Their life's greatest battle is just to survive
And their great lust for life only keeps them alive
A fair go in life to them has been denied
Those on the wrong side of the social divide.
Familiar to poverty and they know of despair
But their great lust for life keeps them hanging in there
Like poor struggling fish washed in by the tide
And if there is a god he is not on their side.
The poverty stricken the poor and downtrod
The Homeless and the Stateless of the lesser god
Yet despite their misfortunes to life they do cling
And their great lust for life is an amazing thing.
With their heavy life's crosses they struiggle to cope
And their great lust for life it was born out of hope
That lady luck on them one day soon will smile
And their every day struggles will have been worth-while.
poem by Francis Duggan
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