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Poems On / About POVERTY  7/27/2015 8:28:05 PM
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I'M Always Like This

I speak when I am silent and I feel greatly those silent words and looks In others' faces, Silence is my language that I always love to say something to others, My silence does not mean that I prefer not to talk, but It is the pretty language that others understand well, I stare at those graves' silence When I'm there, I understand that pretty silence of the nights and I love the pretty face of the silent moon, Silence can break those chains that handcuff Any free man anywhere, I abhor that ugly silence of that Abject poverty anytime, I love to talk to the silent people Anytime, anywhere, and everywhere, I live in my silence just To be or not to be Simply because I am always like this. ______________________________________________________________________

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Rains' Fall

Those rains fall By day and by night Accompanied by that cold weather Over there, People are in abject poverty and They're in absolute misery Simply because they're surrounded By a lot of headaches, All those rains are merely Floods in those streets and In these narrow alleys, People lack all accommodations Simply because they suffer from What's going on around them, Hope fades day by day Simply because there is nothing pretty In that far horizon, It's all, but A sad tale of those people Who suffer from everything around them... Although rains are good and pretty, but They are headaches when they turn into floods Anytime, anywhere, and everywhere. ______________________________________________________________________

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On The Outside

I need a backative that I couldnt find in you. Life is not just about you. Life is not about me. We live eternally through our children so what is the legacy that we are leaving behind? The brain wash that we were given? The poverty? the foot stool position? scraping the scraps from the table of other races? Living in squalor communities where ever we go? Demanding and marching for equality from people who do not think we deserve it? Being considered a burden because our people are on welfare (doesn't matter if more whites are on it, it was designed for them not us) ? Whites stole america and built it as there kingdom, where is ours? Should Jamaica be our Kingdom? Black people see everything outside of themselves as better and we are so beautiful and talented.
ras palmer

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Real Days Of Life

Days sever and combine At the same time... There are days for happiness, but There are for sadness anytime... Days carry inside them, Like our real cells, A lot of different things, Good or bad, Lovely or unlovely, Poverty or richness, and Prosperity or misery To us anytime... We are sometimes squeezed By days either To be or to be not... We are sometimes good allies to our days, but We are often bad allies to our days... Days can do what they want and We only suffer from these them... _______________________________________________________________________

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Poems On / About POVERTY