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Unemployment Shame

Rows and rows of boxes
All of them the same
With rooms and rooms of people
Each without a name
Hearts that beat, though breaking
And smiles that mask the pain
Of fading hopes of sunshine
Through windows drenched with rain.
Once lovers, now not speaking
Except to lay the blame
For broken dreams and the poverty
Of unemployment shame.
Empty cupboards and drunken sleep
Are all part of the game
But hungry babies wake them still
On mornings all the same.

poem by Jane Solanrobertson
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Unemployment I Hate You

I was at varsity in my comfort zone.
I never knew the reality.
My dreams were unlimited.
Sky was the limit.

I never knew that today I would be
Sitting here unemployed, so hopeless
and ashamed of my self.

All my dreams are fading.
Unemployment you are the cause of poverty.
Unemployment you are the cause of depression.
Unemployment you are a poison.
Unemployment you are a disaster.
Unemployment I hate you.

To be employed it's not about how you know
But, about who you know.

Corruption, nepositism and cronyism
Are the recipes for poverty and unemployment.
Unemployment I hate you.

poem by Unknown Unpopular
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do You See Me

Look in my eyes
can you feel the pain that I feel
so many times that I've cried
but can you see, or is it invisible tears i share
as you sleep safe and sound
can you hear my heart beat
fading as I scream out your name
could you be the reason for my pain
or am I the reason for my own
why is it so much easier to put the blame
rather than deal with the shame
forcing a smile, to take the focus off my eyes
you may never know how I truly feel
I wear a mask, as I play a part
yes I've got the world fooled
you may never see the tears that I share
a lonely heart, all smiles, no frowns
my pain is for my eyes only
so only I know, only I will bare.

poem by Kelvin Owusu
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Who Will You Blame

When you have no one to blame
Then who will you blame
For your suffering and your pain,
Would you blame it on GOD
Though to me that would seem odd
But would you, or could you, blame GOD.
When you then begin to suffer
Over hate or pain or some other
And you cant blame it on one or another,
Who will you then decide
That made you suffer and then made you cry
Especially, with no one at your side.
When you are there all alone
Inside of your empty home
And no one can hear you moan,
You are just there
And for you no one does care
So no one offers you a prayer.
When you have made a mistake
Maybe instead of giving you did take
Or maybe something, you did break,
Whose fault will it be
In that part of your destiny
When you cant blame someone, or even me.
Then when you are getting old
And you are carrying a heavy load
And then you catch yourself a terrible cold,
Your family and friends are all gone
So now there is just you, the one
So tell me, can you still continue on.
Your cupboards are now all bare
And all you have is an empty chair
And in your mirror, you see and empty stare,
But now then comes that rain
And now who will you blame
For all your suffering, and all your pain.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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End Of The Game

There are times
when we stand on a stage
and there below the glare
of the footlights below
blinding our eyes
are rows and rows
of empty seats
where no one came to see
our farewell performance
to mark the end of the game.

15 January 2008

poem by David Harris
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You Who Bury Your Poets

America....
you who bury your poets
like fallen leaves beneath weeping trees.
like the sound of the tire
that strikes the stray cat.
like the trembling dark skinned hands
you ban from your voting booths.
like the flag draped caskets
of your sacrificed young.
like the books you burn
with religious fervor....
like the shuffle of boots
in your unemployment lines.
like the faceless ones
in your clinics shutting down.
like the ones who speak out,
then suddenly disappear.
like the crack pipes and needles
of your 'worthless' poor....
like the babies born to babies
in your rat infested government housing.
like your Native Americans
in your 'poverty prisons'....
like the angry young men
you put behind bars.
like the hungry child sleeping
in the back of a broke down car.
like your factory ghosts
haunting empty shells.
like your foreclosed farms,
the fields left to crows.

America,
you who bury your poets,
and dance drunkenly in empty rooms,
neath the shadow of the noose
your indifference tied!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Married Couple

Your sheep is a different breed in this town,
And you sleep in a different bedroom from your husband;
But yet still you call yourselves married couple.

When are the babies coming in when you people sleep in different rooms? !
For you are married couple but, you do sleep in different rooms;
And under the same roof the sun shines on you all! !
But this very act is noted because of the breed of your sheep in this town.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Shared Loneliness

A house is empty if you're alone.
Its rooms are too quiet for it's known
loneliness too, just like you.
It echoes with hollowness
and creaks with despair
for the lone figure it houses
has no one to share
its rooms.

It hears the steps of the solitary one.
It hears the sighs that weigh like a ton
on its floors and walls
where the sadness crawls.
It longs to be filled
with conversational tones
filling up its rooms.

The bedroom is lonely
and the living room too.
The kitchen has a setting for one
and only one cup of coffee to brew.
These rooms can house all of the pain
that lonesomeness brings and still remain
loyal to the one who's alone.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Once there came a man

Once there came a man
Who said,
"Range me all men of the world in rows."
And instantly
There was terrific clamour among the people
Against being ranged in rows.
There was a loud quarrel, world-wide.
It endured for ages;
And blood was shed
By those who would not stand in rows,
And by those who pined to stand in rows.
Eventually, the man went to death, weeping.
And those who staid in bloody scuffle
Knew not the great simplicity.

poem by Stephen Crane
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Beyond The Veil.....

nothing lives here anymore.
they closed that tiny bookstore,
and the bar on the corner is gone.
the sidewalks swept and empty,
windows covered with dust.
would be lovers ride by radios blaring,
cell phones grafted to their ears.
no one makes love anymore,
masturbation detoxification.
crows hanging on the brick walls,
apartment doors bolted and locked.
caught a meth lab in the church basement,
and they've cut down all the trees.
no one jumps from windows,
babies born in sterile rooms.
tongues lie dormant in desire's mouth,
perfume suffocates the senses.
the threat of rain, everybody scatters,
for fear of getting wet!
cept the old blind man walking his dog,
who sees beyond the veil!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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New Biography

See youve got the new biography
Where did they get the info from
Same as before some, so called friends
Who claim to have, known me then
How come theyve got such good memories
And I cant even remember last week
Got to queston where theyre coming from
What knowledge of me is it that they speak
So far away, way back when
The people that claim, to have known me then
Not on my wavelength and its such a shame
That they have to play the name game
The fame game, oh the name game,
Lord its a cryin shame
Lord tell me whats to blame
Reinvented all the stories they know
Give them all a different slant
What is it that theyre really looking for
Just a hobby on the internet
So far away, way back when
The people that claim, to have known me then
Not on my wavelength and its such a shame
That they have to play the name game
The fame game, the name game,
Oh its such a cryin shame, tell me whos to blame
If they didnt really know me way back
How can they know me now, in any respect
Its a pity they dont feel the pain
That they should pay the price to play, to play
The fame game, the name game
Its such a cryin shame, please tell me whos to blame
Not on my wavelength and its such a shame
That they have to play, have to play the fame game
Oh the name game, its a cryin shame
Please tell me whos to blame
They keep on playin
The fame game, oh the name game
Its such a cryin shame, please tell me whos to blame
Keep on playin the fame game
Lord, the name game, its such a cryin shame
Please tell me whos to blame
They just keep on playin the fame game
Oh the name game, its such a cryin shame
Please tell me whos to blame
Keep on, keep on playin..

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Her Days

All her days are softly going by
With some dreams to be forgotten
Like clouds that are always in the sky
Only to drift away and be forgotten

Sunshine and rain each day sunshine and rain

Life is sometimes a dream rising high
With every opportunity coming to be
Or some loneliness that cannot die
Only to become an inside part you and me

Sunshine and rain each day sunshine and rain

There are dreams that cannot be hidden away
In the mirrors of glasses that make a day

Every love song
is rising in high
With the times
that come with new spring
And its hopes
with the dreams still lie
Bringing worth
to recollections of old gone thing

Sunshine and rain each day sunshine and rain

*(Thanks go to the late John Denver, for his song ‘Fly Away’, for without, this could not have happened) .

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Chat Room For Lonely People

Thoughts are the very essence

Of human existence

Even though they sometimes create discord

Whether you express them via your vocal cords

Or through your keyboard

When you are bored.

Didn't folks used to have rooms

Called drawing rooms?

But now all that is left

Is our 'privacy' of which we are bereft.

So, instead of drawing rooms

We have chat rooms

For lonely people

Who would like to chat with friendly people.

poem by Lonely People Champion
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Tombstones!

rows and rows of tombstones,
glaring white in the morning sun...
with open graves before them,

and the smell of fresh turned earth.
cars speed by going nowhere;
people walking, as if lost....

the phone rings, no one answers,
the book, unread, stares from the shelf.
trees almost bare softly whisper,

dollar bills blown by the wind...
the old man sits by the station,
counting by number,

and not by name....
rows and rows of tombstones,
waiting for gifts unwrapped

by time!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Why Must I Be Sad?

No more mister nice guy
I love the dead
Ive been thinking about it
Now I understand what he said
Ask me now
I understand the words that alice said
I kick the rocks beneath me
I squint at the sun
Sad, sad, sad, sad
Why must I be sad?
The rows of dandelions growing all around me
Why must I be sad? (sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad, sad)
No one knows these things but me and him
So Im writing everything down in a spiral notebook
In the hopes that one day
Other people will feel as low as this
Ask me now
I understand the words that alice said
I kick the rocks beneath me
I squint at the sun
Sad, sad, sad, sad
Why must I be sad?
The rows of dandelions growing all around me
Why must I be sad? (sad, sad, sad)
No more mister nice guy
I love the dead
Ive been thinking about it
Now I understand what he said
Ask me now
I understand the words that alice said
I kick the rocks beneath me
I squint at the sun
Sad, sad, sad, sad
Why must I be sad?
The rows of dandelions growing all around me
Why must I be sad? (welcome to my nightmare / dead)
Why must I be sad? (babies / raped and freezin / you)
Why must I be sad? (drive me nervous / elected /)
Why must I be sad? (generation landslide / un)
Why must I be sad? (der my wheels / muscle of love /)
Why must I be sad? (schools out / only women bleed /)
Why must I be sad? (billion dollar babies)
Why must I be sad? (sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad, sad)
(sad, sad)

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken

fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control

empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man

broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights

fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...

fallen, empty, and broken...

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Hands Of Time!

the hands of a small child,
shaping sand on the beach.
the flutter of wings,
a sparrow's first flight.
seeds planted by hand
in the fresh plowed ground.
the light teasing shadows,
late afternoon to night.
the war hero's silence,
his eyes grown hard.
the family burying the child,
the mother cannot weep.
the hungry stare
of poverty's stink.
the addict's hard edge,
bare rooms, bare walls.
the hanging tree,
and the lovers oak.
the bullet in the chamber,
and the open mission.
the church locked empty,
boxes to beds in the alley.
the old man who cant forgive
what the young boy did.
the hands of a small child...
the hands of time!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Street Scene—Little Lonsdale St.

I wish you'd seen that dirty little boy,
Finger at nose,
Peeking and ginking at some girls in rows
Seated on the high window-sills to rest.
One of the girls had hair as bright as corn.
And one was red.
And over their soft forms a glow was shed
From lamps new-lighted in the laundry there.
That boy, beneath them, wheeled a hand-cart full
Of cast-off busts
From sewing rooms. They looked like shells of lusts.
And all the girls around the windows laughed.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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Novims Nightmare

Once I had a dream, that worried me
Like a drunken guillotine
Lingering just above my head
Why, why, why, why?
Why was I born the nine
Cursed repeatedly
Who would know if I should die.
No one needed me
Doo doo doo doo doo
Dark and empty was the place to which Id come
Cold and silent was the house my name was on
Nine rooms and a tomb in every one
Sdark and empty was the place to which Id come
All at once my bones began to change
I was tall and young again,
Sweet as rain falling on the snow
Who, who, who, who?
Who is he, who am i, and
What laid in between?
How can I say goodbye? no one let me in
Cant see no need for nine no more
Now its too late to open the door.

song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Young Lovers

the young lovers
close their rooms too early
and they open
their rooms
too late for lunch

they keep
on hugging tightly
to their bones
and marrows

exploding
their ecstacies
and we understand
how is it to be lost
in the labyrinths of
passion

i have tried it once
and they all
understand what
we mean by
our actions

they were once
lost too
in the embraces
of their arms

and the rest
too understand

what humans know
what human do

they fall in love
and they think
they will never be
separated
ever again
from this sense

melting away
from shame
and being a stranger
to modesty

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Angela

1

A lonely destiny in abandoned rooms

A soft insanity gropes on wallpapers.

Beds of geraniums flow by windows,

Daffodils also and more chaste in wasting away

As alabaster which gleams in the garden.

In blue veils India's mornings smile.

Their sweet incense scares away the stranger's worries,

Sleepless night by the pond because of Angela.

His pain rests hidden in an empty mask,

Thoughts which steal away blackly in the darkness.

The thrushes laugh all around from soft throats.

2

The fruits which round red in branches,-

Angela's lips which show her sweetness,

Like nymphs who bend over springs

In restful viewing for long hours,

The green-gold, long hours of the afternoon.

However, sometimes the spirit returns to fight and game.

In golden clouds a battle melee surges

And a hyacinth-like thing floats from mazy cresses.

A demon ponders thunderstorms in the sultriness,

In the grave's shadow of sad cypresses.

Then the first lightning falls from black flues.

3

The June willows' whisper in the evening;

A rain resounds long in flute sounds.

How motionless the birds hang in the gray!

And here Angela's rest in the dim branches;

The poet is this beauty's priest.

His mouth is flowed around by dark coolness.

In the valley fog softy rests poured out.

By the edge of the forest and gloom's shadow

A golden thing floats flowing from his mouth

By the edge of the forest and gloom's shadow.

Night embraces his drunken languishing.

poem by Georg Trakl
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