Posts Tagged ‘poor’

A Poor Man’s Wish

I want to be God
I want to be in control
Of my own life
And everything around me.

I want to be happy
And when I’m angry
To yell at whomever I want
Without ever getting a backlash.

They say let it all in God’s hands
But those hands seems fall through
Cause I see everything as it’s always been
I’m still struggling, still starving.

Filled my head with words from books
Call me “Don Quixote”
I wish I could be that lost in
I wish I was one of the most read stories.

I want to be God
I want to be praised for my talents
And if I didn’t have any
I would make myself have all of them.

I want to feel comfort
More than in just my own skin
I want what it’s mine
And that’s more than the “American Dream”.

Call me egocentric, full of myself
At the end of the day none of you
Has ever given me what I need in order
To survive another day in this life.

Oh my God, writing is good
In fact it is great!
But I want the riches that comes with the knowledge
I want to be King of this very theme.

Here I am!
Give me what I want!
I know I deserve it
Stop trying to step on me,
Trying to make of me another steeping stool.

For I’m the pinnacle of this pyramid
I’m the axis, as I am the center
And when I become God
You will all bow down at my feet
And for those who won’t
I’ll prepare a very special place;
Concerning volcanic lava and fiery pits.


Hard To Ignore

The starving man thinks that it’s a humiliation that he has nothing to eat
While we drive our $60,000 cars right next to him
Hold with shame that label while we label you as lazy and drugs addicts.
How warm are our sheets while most of them freeze to death
But it’s no political correct to talk about these things
Only except if there was a hurricane bashing in instead
But what can a man who’s starving and striving as well do?
When all the people who have enough to be buried with…
Look the other way
So let’s all pray
For the things that should be
For the things that are not
But don’t you fucking touch my pockets
Don’t you fucking tell me I haven’t done enough.

I was picked up from the streets
So I am really and truly grateful
I have done this for others
So karma did this for me as well
Or at least that’s what I tell myself
With all this yada yada talking talking
Not much has been done to make a difference.

Robin Hood, come rob the rich and save us from our selfish needs
Oh Great Universe, actualize our own goddamn needs to be
Praise Jesus, and all of its people
Those are the first who forget that one point they were fatherless
And praise those who don’t believe in anything
But still don’t do shit to change the facts that are ever present
Praise those who nod in agreement
And praise those who shake in disagreement
And those who are goddamn indifferent
Those who are really opinionated as well as those who say they have an opinion
In this Capitalist idealism
In order for some have more than enough others have to have nothing.

So come give your share
I bet they all can live with a buck
But can you without a thousand of them?
Well you’ve been blessed with luck
But you are right; you’ve worked as much as fuck
Who say that what you earn should be for others?
And not for your own principle necessary needs
It’s not that you don’t care; it’s not that it doesn’t bother
That this situation is mostly the government’s responsibility;
Another two billion dollars spent
On an imaginary war that itches on the balls of our president
No need to be disrespectful
No need to point fingers
So lay back while they spray your face
And kick you out of your home, cause you couldn’t pay your mortgage
While your son is sent to jail or to his death bed
Cause this flag would be blank; white without its sky blue and blood red
If wasn’t for those shed most of theirs and now are dead
Or on the streets asking for some spare change while they still wage this war inside their heads.

This is hard to ignore
Even when I set my eyes in a hypnotizing way toward my TV screen
Well, it’s been haunting my dreams
And all the comfort of this bed is not enough to shake it off my brain.

I’m not trying to change the world
That would be an impossible attempt
I don’t think people by nature are good hearted
I do believe most of them are fucked up
And I do believe in their suffering and struggles
And that were trying to be something we are not
Be that something awful, or something great
We simply cannot face our own mistakes
We try and strive to move forward
Never minding what it takes.

The Collective Exertion
The color of your skin
Won’t save you from the pain
That you’re about the feel
The amount of wealth
Won’t save you from death’s breath
When it wants to feed.
Don’t write me a song about racial differences
We all get fucked in the ass, one way or another
Don’t tell me you don’t understand, of course you do
You just have forgotten how’s be fucked against your own will.
Christian and Sodomites alike
They all have their share of fucking others
And those who are constantly smiling
One day will cry till they can’t stop suffering.
Oh, no, boy, girl, and person in between
Your sexual preference won’t save you this time
From being discriminated one way or another
You’re gonna have your heart ripped out of your chest someday.
Your religious beliefs or lack of them
Won’t save you from the pending doom Karma has prepared for you
Socialists, democrats, republicans, anarchists alike
They all want a piece of the cake and they won’t share shit with you.
Die for your country as they defecate on your corpse
If you don’t love yourself, how do you expect others to?
This is not a racial, political, or religious statement, no!
This is whether you love yourself enough to say;
“I want something better for myself”
Or conformed to the point you allow them to constantly rape you
While you maintain the shame and the silence.


Legion: For We Are Many
Ire has been spread all across this paper sheet
Another filled up needle for a junkie’s fix
An acoustic indie song is played inside his head
As he lie on the concrete floor, by the side of the street, playing dead.
He begs for a dime but all he gets are spits
The police are on his back, to put their cuffs around his wrists
They confuse him with a wetback but he’s really a spic
Cause racism here is only acquainted if someone speaks of it.
Canned worms for the sausages bitten by the wolves
Every elbow touches a shoulder as every foot steeps on knees
I guess unless your gagged and tied in the trunk of a car
Is the only way you can realize where all in for the fee.
So pitchfork and torch, with an angry mob, cornering
It’s the only we can get it to run and hide and cowering
A suicidal plot design by the minds who spend too much time
Staring at their personal computers, hacking federal agencies.
Pile up your money where your mouth is
Hope you’re choking while swallowing it
So enter the camel into a needle’s hole
Fumes for the cancer are justified by the dirt of the coal.

Problems sometimes are not only your own. Everything around you sometimes affect your life in the worst/most positive way depends on what that might be. That’s what this poem is about. I like writing about things no one else dares to write about. This is one of them.

(Written on: April 5, 2013)

The Problem of Having a Brain and Using It
Nobody cares about your theological beliefs
Nobody cares about your political point of view
Nobody cares about your racial dilemmas or lack of wealth benefits
In this mess all that we care about is our own bullshit.
Nobody cares except for what face you wear
Nobody cares except for the words you slur
Nobody cares except for how nice you pretend to be
And how many people you can lie to using it.
Let’s keep the topic neutral
Nobody likes to stir the waters up
Nobody gives a fuck about wars in other countries
Nobody gives a fuck who dies or who’s starving there
Proud of my own country’s prejudice
Proud of the abuse our leaders hide from its citizens
Let me turn my head while the world burns down
Give me freedom of speech, give me a gun
Give me pills, give me power over others
While we keep hiding under the rug the real problems
This is not the place to address these things
This is not the right forum to express my feelings.
You don’t want me to be sick
But then again you cannot simply fix me
In this hospital I can be whatever except the real me
Cause being different from everyone else means I truly carry a disease.
You wanted someone smart
Someone who could think
Someone who won’t conform
Someone who wouldn’t commit
To the illusions they try to feed us with
I’m more of a pacifist than of a pessimist
That doesn’t affect my perception of what realism is
But let’s keep this topic down on the under
Cause no one needs to hear any of it…
You don’t want to be labeled as a joke, an insane fanatic
A nut job, a basket case, a paranoid schizophrenic
Even worse as antipatriotic, as a communist, as a terrorist
But I guess that’s the problem of having a brain and using it.