Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


Narrative Education Poems | Narrative Poems About Education

These Narrative Education poems are examples of Narrative poems about Education. These are the best examples of Narrative Education poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Narrative | |

A Country Of Addictions

In a country of addictions,
where we are trapped,
trying to find daylight,
and a safe way out.

Many are forgotten,
they are sent away,
when a little compassion,
could pave a new way.

Some can be saved,
by an outstretched hand,
if someone believes,
they can.

Addictions can manifest,
in many ways,
drugs, alcohol, greed,
some bad choices made.

We can't play politics,
with peoples lives,
provide them the tools,
so they can fly.

The time is now,
to turn things around,
give them our voice,
provide a safe ground.

This is my prayer,
may God soften our hearts,
give us understanding,
this is where rehab starts.


Details | Narrative | |

America, Why Did You Stray?

America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.

America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.

America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.

Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.

America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive 
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.

America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.

America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.

America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.


Details | Narrative | |

Quit That Tapping

like the raven 
who taps taps upon 
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more

beneath lattice
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap 
upon your chamber door
for only you my love 
I surrender and never more

wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more

tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more

as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who 
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more


Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven


Details | Narrative | |

U F O

Under the microscope we are under watched by a near by species

For some reason they think we are a life form that takes it to easy

Over the years we were abducted; that was a mistake the aliens became uneasy

Unique in several ways we are human and that they see we are strange

Fooling them we act very hostile yet our mindset needs be rearrange

Opening our minds they started to look, but our minds seems to weird and derange

Upset, the aliens take our species to try to understand

Freaks of nature we seem to gather with costumes and sounds of band

Old as time they been coming to our planet and this is what they found, like us, land

Unrelenting we humans seem to focus on a different path

Feelings we have the aliens do not understand what we have

Odd we are, we are the only species in the galaxy that really know how to have a bath

Unrealizable that we do adore the stars and lights in the sky

From all our studies we look up and see the lights that make our world, we cry

Only now we reason with the aliens we are fools in our world and we sigh  


Details | Narrative | |

Just for Me

In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away


Details | Narrative | |

The Student

Buzz, Buzz,
still tiered eyes open,
She walks down stairs, packs up, and gets on the bus,
She stares out the window wishing to spend the day there and not at a desk.
7 FULL HOURS of of unempathetic teachers,
they give her 6 more hours of school work to do at home.
No one cares!

The homework starts on the bus and she's lucky to have it done by 10PM. 
Finely, she gets to go to bed,
But all she does is stare at the sealing with the overhanging stress of the work she didn't finish combined with the work her unrelenting teachers will give her tomorrow.

It happens each day,  
It's beyond her control,
she tells teachers and friends but they spit in her face telling her they don't care.
It won't change.

Luckily, she has her head on strait,
and while she trudges through the mud she stays strong,
knowing that everything is going to work out.
So she tells herself just wait.


Details | Narrative | |

Graduation

The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field- 
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-
"NICHOLAS BELLO!"


Details | Narrative | |

Life is a Play

We got on the scene, in an environment tightly planned. Perhaps it is "person" who at best is a being that has presence , past, present and future. Birth and death. In this grand stage to tell each other everything that our essence was able to settle with time. Leave memories recorded in "person-stage" temporarily welcomed us.

The goals of individuals are diffuse. The mass of individuals is composed of bargains complex individual goals. Beings are grouped by similarity of purpose and they play opposite to print on the "person-peel" his divine assistance.

We are all actors, some cry, others laugh, others cry... and laugh. We spent the drama, the comedy ephemeral at lyricism of survival with and without cause, many psychodrama arise , ...

We ignore terms play opposite to the sweet illusion of achievement, misfortune, to make himself God, heroism, spotless conduct , ... Why ?

To be worthy of what? If you already have everything in the house of the Father. So many players come here to play, to circumvent laws, make war tactics... because in their heavenly abodes is far to the realism of these have only one opportunity, the certainty of a unique existence. What gain in ignoring the obvious? In their homes, or heavenly abodes you already have everything?

Life is a theater piece.... ... act in which you currently stars opposite? In that text, officers await their inclusion to participate in a plot? You are aware that play opposite? His story builds, rebuilds, or destroys itself and/or many others?

Oh heavenly! My text-narrator insinuates that your children come to you for so many inconsequential adventures? Have not you taught the gift of living eternally in your homes?

Know... know... know... to enjoy life... for those who live in the heavenly vaults may be one... but for those who are conscious is eternal.


Details | Narrative | |

I loved My Life of Bird

I fly in the sky
I swim in the sea 
I sleep in the night
And in the trees I live

The forest once was my home
That I always cherished
For me and every one
Who lived on this beautiful heaven?

Coming into the flame of fire
Together with my family
Helps me to remember and tell to all
That has caused the dead of all?

Came five days ago
Three to four men
With something in there mind known as the plan
To destroy what was known as our home

Came few men 
After few days
To destroy us all together with the forest
To clear the land

They lighted the fire
They parked some big bulldozers
To clear the trees and removes the stones
After everything is burnt by the flames of the fire

Together with my family
Praying to the god as one
To forgive our sin 
And tell the reason for this everything

Nothing I heard from up
But something from down 
As few men said
For the development, let happen this destruction


Details | Narrative | |

The Bad King

Ana Cecilia Callejas 

Rodrigo Perez Gavilan

The Bad King 

“Lexer” was a lion who was the King of the entire animal kingdom, during his reign all the animals lived in complete harmony, they were all happy and graceful, and Lexer takes care of them and protects them. One day “Lexer” and his wife had an adorable baby lion that was named “Dylan” as he grew up Lexer teached him a lot of things since he was going to be the heir of the animal kingdom. Dylan also made a lot of friends but his best friend was Jim. Dylan and Jim spend almost all the days together, as the time passed Jim started to hang out with the Rhinos, which were the bad ones of the kingdom. Jim turned into a bad lion and started to incite Dylan to make bad things and he became also a bad lion. One day lexer got very sick and a few days later he passed away so Dylan became the king. All the animals were very sad because they loved Lexer he has been so far the best ruler of the animal kingdom. Time passed and Dylan forgot all the good things his father taught him and started to become a bad lion and a bad king. Influenced by Jim and the Rhinos that were friends with Jim Dylan started to do bad things. He put animals to fight between each other just for their amusement and had some of the animals as slaves just to be his servants, he also ordered other animals to kill so he can eat and have feasts, and this caused a lot of panic in the entire animal kingdom. Dylan mother tried to make him reconsider and change, to do all the good things his father taught him for him to be a good king but Dylan just became worse. All this caused that the animals lost his confidence towards the king and started to live just with the ones of their own kind and also began to fight with all the other animals to survive. This caused that the world became a bad place and since that moment the harmony did not existed anymore and the animals had to take care on their own.
Moral of the fable: if you are a good person and you have good values don’t let anyone to influence you and change the way you are.


Details | Narrative | |

Drop-Out Dream

I've done it again, I've overslept
I've failed to finish my homework
I've missed so many classes
that I can't recall which room
that I am supposed to go to 
and maybe I'm on the wrong floor
and oh god the wrong building?
and besides they all look the same
and besides the last time I found it
all the seats were taken...

The semester is almost over
My attendance is still required
or there will be some sort of penalty...

(Tuition is so expensive, son
Why waste it, why throw it away?
Now your brothers and sister...)

The hall is empty and endless now
I'm running and sweating now
The whole class is waiting now
The teacher is waiting now...

I've already flunked his course
but still have to take his exam...

The bell screams and the doors slam shut
Once again they have started without me
Once again I'll be marked absent
when they call the roll...

(Based on vivid, recurring dreams I used to have)


Details | Narrative | |

Over The Years

Childhood is the best part of everyone’s life! You might think so, but there are people who’ve never experienced the beauty of this utopia. Sometimes parents often unknowingly destroy or neglect the childhood of their kids, without them even realizing it. This may have terrible consequences later in the life of these kids.
A poem on a terrorist's lost childhood..



As a kid, he cried for a pack of crayons.

But all he got was, some fat books on Maths, Science and Freons.

He grew up amidst the stench of his suffocating passion.

Tinting his mind in a rational and scientific fashion.

He went on, emphatically learning new things.

Just like the bird, flying without his own wings.

He strived and thrived to be the best.

Strangling his dreams, he laid them to rest.

Over the years, his soul was infiltrated with hatred and anger.

Piercing his heart, like an acute dagger.

And, today he creates weapons of mass destruction.

Using all his knowledge, wrecking innocent lives has become his addiction.

Who knows? It might not be his fault.

As he’s a man with his wounds on salt.

Brainwashed, seeking revenge of his mercilessly destroyed childhood.

His rational cognizance failed to discern between the bad and the good.


Details | Narrative | |

BIG BULLY AT SCHOOL

Big bully,don't ask my name--
I can't allow you to know my name--
You would chant to me on the playground,
Make a silly song __make funny of my name:
That my parents thought was a beautiful and significant name.
You have harassed many boys and girls at school,
Just because they are too short,too tall or too heavy,
or because they are too shy,or too neat,
or their clothes not exactly right size,or their shoes not the right
 brand, or their packed lunch not palatable__
Many kids at school are concerned about your attitude,
You bully them in the pathway or in classrooms.
And many fear to talk about you,
I don't want to lash out and fight you:
but I don't like your teasing words and tactics.
I will stay with my best friend or group to ward you off.
I have decided to ignore you big bully__ walking away;
Ready to use my body language to ward you off .
It is great to be confident___
When you want to harm me, I will seek help from
 my teacher,parents, and adults__
To offer advice,support and immediate intervention.

chipepo lwele
*In remembrance of school-going days.


Details | Narrative | |

Friends Are Like Trees

For a record,
A best friend covers your past from floating to the present life!
Though we also have,
Next-door friends!
Worldview friends!
Cross-culture friends!
Financial friends!
Devotion friends!
Close friends!
Friends with benefits!
Mentor friends!

Don’t quote me wrong but,
Girlfriends and boyfriends are like florets,
They bloom, fly, fall and dry.
While your friends will be crafting more brush-woods,
Each brushwood with abound leaves.
Friends are as mightier as a pen.
A clement friend will collate all the early worms for his/her friend!
A horizon friend will always transcribe and send missives.
A barnstorming friend can be amiable,
A friend’s cuddle and trust is glory!
True friends wipe off the tears trailing through your cheek
Friendship is a heart of trust.
Friends are like trees,
Trees grow and craft other brush-woods!
Friends are synonymous to trees. 



All Rights Reserved 

T.m.T scripts 





Details | Narrative | |

Boat Of Poverty

Why this boat?
Could it be boat of destitution?
Conveying Epidemics, Hunger, Rags,
Malnutrition and Illiteracy.

Descend from me!
Banish from my world!
You cursed word!
You that called education a"Privilege"!
Patrimony of ghetto!

W.H.O called you "Lion of Africa",
U N called you "Agenda ".
Predicament to black,
Livelihood to white.

Harking to conviction,
Capsize and raise no more.
For "Black Rose" to smile again
On the land of plenty.


Details | Narrative | |

The Prodigal Son

When a father of five 
came home faced 
with one in five children of convalescence 
which he will pay more attention?

So organizations should be 
when in a department or group, 
one member is left out 
of the production process. 
Discard the individual or rescue?


Details | Narrative | |

Robbing the Nest

I had survived how many summers? Five?
Six? 'til, self-taught, I learned at last
of terror that lurks in situations
which those I trust (myself included)
would swear offer only perfect safety...
My ball rolled under my Grandma's house
and I, well-guarded, scuttled after to retrieve it,
mindless of the tarry soil fleeced with fluffy,
small red feathers, newly molted by matrons:
hens that clucked contentment,
set upon their hidden egg troves.
Spying their nests, I thought to rob them
and so earn a Grandma's love for a city boy
unversed in country ways. Thinking, I acted,
reaching for a nest unoccupied,
half hid behind a house block.
I closed my soft, expectant hand
upon a wriggling creature coiled among the eggs,
drew back like lightning to watch
a brightly spotted snake slide off
into the farther, deeper darkness
amid a squall of squawks.
Emerging empty handed, terrified,
it wasn't Grandma's love I earned that day.
I have always since encountered similar brilliant colored
dangers whenever I have thought to grab,
for myself or others, unclaimed treasures
in strange places, in warmer or in cooler weathers.


Details | Narrative | |

Dumped Baby

One day, one of our daily papers carried a story about a teenage girl who 
dumped a baby;after carrying the baby for nine months in her womb.
And nowadays,it is common for teenagers to throw their babies in pit latrines,
 drainage,and rubbish sites;
Why acting in such a manner when barren women are cying for babies and 
 orphanages are around us?


Details | Narrative | |

My magic Flute

My magic Flute


My first and only instrument I received as a little girl was
a Flute.

My mom’s old boyfriend had gotten me a Flute and after they broke up I don’t recall what happened to my magic Flute.

A few years later I had music class my Freshman year in high school and we all got black plastic Flutes and we were supposed to learn how to play the Flute.

As an adult and a lover of good music I wish I had learned to play the Flute. I’d play on the sidewalks of city streets collecting money to pay for my children’s education and to pay the bills.


Details | Narrative | |

The oak branch

The branch

Of the mighty

Oak tree

That hangs so free

All bent

The grey brownstone

On the corner of 

110 and lex

Survive

And

the old 

Haggard man 

A Survivor

All bent

Points up

To the oak

While the young

Boy looks on 

in 

Reverence and hate

A reminder....


Details | Narrative | |

The Chosen Few

Surrounded by creative sharks at
play; keeping my moves at bay.
I hope I'm making myself clear,
or steering some away. Never
expect more, than you give. Greed
is pure void, never filled! Taught
many years before. Splitting hairs
with someone, it's all in good fun.
The chosen few, will surly agree.


03/10/14   written by, Larry Berdoo
                        WRITE ON!
 


Details | Narrative | |

Bloody Bloomin Rose's

Ah, the bloom was on the Rose
yet, the taint of alcohol and drugs
looms nightmare like behind her baby pink cheeks. 
Porcelain skin tones, raspberry rogue
nails to scratch and lift bits of dirty lucre.

She was clawing her way up,
and hopefully out, he hits her, “Slut,” he screams at her.
a sometime replacement sat beside him. 
His Chicano inner-city drawl hurt her ears 
and the fake diamonds studding them. 
The new girl beside him
giggles…

She’s due at work by nine,
grabbing a smooth wrap-top and a mock
grey skirt, she rushes from the room to the bank.
She can still see his long fingers playing in other girls cleavage.
Rose, well, Rose pays the rent. She strikes a teller’s pose 
behind the formica countertop...

Long days, counting other peoples money
kindness, and sweetness sucked from her
like a ripe plum on a summers day.
She needs work, more work.
I asked her to help in the garden.
Long blonde, buxom, bending over weeds,
only six months to go to graduation
an associate degree…

Rose chuckles, “Look who I’ve been associatin’ with?”
I eye the twenty-five thou lottery ticket in my jean pocket.
“You want to move here Rose?”
“What would they do without me?”
I sigh, thinking of her alcoholic mother
off bingeing and her “boy fiend”.

The lottery windfall went for Rose’s college tuition. 

The bloom is off the Rose now, 
two hundred plus pounds later
strung out beside her Mom on a ratty couch, 
she eyes the Diploma in it’s cheap black frame,
and rocks her baby girl
some things, never change….

*Names have been changed, and the amount given, but part
of the ending has truely come to pass already [sigh]. 
The rest is all true.  


Details | Narrative | |

Endless Growth

Investing in ones mind, priceless.
Choices, knowlage, endless greed.
Older, better, younger, everlasting.
Education, no prejudice, intentions,
by all means. Free oneself; discover
growth, walk on water, who knows?


03/12/14   written by, Larry Berdoo
                      WRITE ON!


Details | Narrative | |

Saints


Surrounded by a cloud of Witnesses who urge us
Who can bring hope and encourage us to follow Fr. Christ
Without counting the cost
In the midst of the storm
We call in mind the examples of Saints

Let’s remember that we are not alone
We are the little brothers and sisters of these great souls
Just as in the natural order older siblings protect, encourage younger ones
So it is our life of faith
Saints left us a road map

How to follow in the footsteps of our Beloved Savior
Not only that
They accompany us
Through their writings
And, Through their powerful intercession

Written 092902


Details | Narrative | |

We Belong To Our Children

Today we need a miracle of revolutionized culture to survive with our heritage's past for our future.
 Many of us don't even know our traditional language no more. 
So much has already been taking from us that it seems most of our culture is forever lost.
 There is a big difference between white man's law and our Native American laws,
 Many of us have been here in America since time began here in the America's and the only waste we leave behind is the bodies of our people burried like our culture is being buried in the prarie.
 The white man has raped and took our culture and way of life from us. 
So what kind of legacy will we leave behind as a Native people? We must reject the white mans way, we must take no part of it, but how can we when we are now a conquered people among a conquering people which a majority remain white.
 We as a Native people only want to survive so that we can remain who we really are, and its our language and traditions who make us who we are and it is dying at a alarming rate.
 Our way of life is today is almost gone and how can we ask to pass on our culture when too much of it is gone and soon our people's legacy will be just that, a legacy.
 We are the lost generation of young Native's unseen to the mainstream American eyes.
 So with that said we as a people must cling onto what we have left because if we don't do it now we will never get back to who we once were as a people.
 There used to be millions of buffalo that feed, clothed and helped us survive as a people now the buffalo roam no morem and all that roams the prairie is a broken dream of many spirits longing for the living to bring back the buffalo.
 Many of our elders and great one's died are will killed too quicly for their knowledge to be passed down the wisdom of our great people.
 Now we have to pick up the many broken piece's where our ancient ancestors left off.
 Now for the one's who do want to keep our culture alivewe have to teach ourselves what we dont already know with experience.
 Now that the cultural leaders are dead and gone we have to search deep within ourselves to know who we really are as a ancient Native people.
 We must teach our children now for great grandma's and grandpa's are in our children, many or almost all just don't lnow it yet.
 My life and the life of my peers belong not to certain indivduals but the life we live and breathe belong to the people no matter our Native blood degree, it's not that our children belongs to us rather it's us that belong to the children.


Details | Narrative | |

These Changing Times

(The rehab of a supervisor)

My eyes!  Saturated
with industrial crap, eventually
to intoxicate what’s left of one’s
bewildered brain.
My sight!  Shackled to the
delusion of corporate inconsistencies,
when leading one’s head through each
enigmatic juncture.
My ears!  Burn with unprincipled
mispronunciations, after boardroom
lampoons of delinquency miss the
mark, especially when delivered
within the queerness of each
insidious secretion, only then to be
viewed with suspicion, when basking
within the formulation of one’s own
comfort zone!
“Labeled” Non aspirant
when introduced to those
emerging within the endearment of
one’s company charter!
“Without ambition”
The blind clown of managerial youth
articulates, one score and five
not an option in this perfidious 
global arena.
Astute!  The annual assessment
in place, only to bolster
insecure managers.
A feedback, to aid keep one
in one’s place.
The first phase of corporate
correctiveness, complete with subtle
innuendoes.
Barriers!  Put in place to analyze
inflexible overtones, before pleading
guilty of being in possession of too 
many answers.
But alas!  Enlightenment validated, only
if, of a positive kind.
Ah!  Is this the answer! Positivity with
in this negative world, where truth has
lost its meaning in a labyrinth of
corporate “Lunacy?”
Seminar after seminar concoct to
intergrade somewhat aimlessly with
today’s intellect, corporate logic
filtered through hidden agenda, systems of
corrective surgery implanted, to keep
“Shop floor” On track.”
“I!  And some, from
a bygone era, ridiculed, insulted,
with in the classroom.”

Harry Horsman   for Chris D Aechtner contest
Let the mask fall













Details | Narrative | |

Lesson Learned

My siblings and I were taught to work Why we whistle or hum a merry tune What a wonderful lesson it has been Now that I see all the fruited blooms I know the lesson has been learned When I see how much they’ve grown As we passed it along to our children Who are passing it along to their own It’s sort of like a wave in the ocean We soak up the knowledge of thought Then we shower a wave to sprinkle back Drops of knowledge that we’ve caught Florence McMillian (Flo)


Details | Narrative | |

Just a Thought

Not too long ago
Cigarettes permeated our culture
Tobacco companies were powerful
Science discovered a link between
Cigarettes and cancer
Cancer was deemed unhealthy

You no longer see media ads for cigarettes
You rarely see smoking in movies

It seems that someone somewhere noticed

Violence permeates our culture
Even down to a recent ad for electronics 
Involving an adult interviewing preschoolers
“Which is better, one laser beam or two?”
The (satisfying; amusing?) response
Was “Two.  Laser beams from both eyes
Can make big explosions!  Boom!  Boom!”

Someone noticed that Bullying can lead to 
Suicide, which is deemed unhealthy
And people are working to stop it

Gee, what about guns?  Assault rifles; hand guns
Which have no sporting or food hunting purpose
After the latest grade school massacre
Have we finally decided that guns may be unhealthy?

The first rule of Health Care is, “First, do no harm.”
Sounds like a good rule for Humanity



Details | Narrative | |

Purpose we are on earth

We are on earth to know To love Eternal God To do good according to His will And to go someday in heaven Human being means to come from Eternal God To go back to Eternal God The Truth is Our origins goes back farther than our parents Our parents are Eternal God’s tool For us to be on earth Sometimes we feel our Creator is near Sometimes we feel nothing at all So that we might find the way home Eternal God sent His Eternal Son Who freed us from sin Save us from the Eternal Father’s world destruction Eternal God, wanted to destroy the world Depressed People He created were sinning Eternal Son stopped Him Eternal Father is Yahweh Means “I AM” Eternal Son is Jesus Christ He is the Highest Priest of the Catholic or Roman Catholic Church We call Catholic priest, father Represent Father Christ He is the Highest Priest The Eternal Father is in Him Jesus Christ is Father Christ He is the way The Truth The Life 4092013


Details | Narrative | |

WHO TAUGHT YOU

Back in the days, began schooling at a tender age
Gender wasn't the issue, we were happy sharing the moments
I mean Sunday school were the best days for me
Its' evident that some began their careers way back
U gotta be thankful for your teacher, who noticed your dream early

Can't lie, was crying and holding on ma mama
Didn't want to be left with strangers I didn't know
Until I came to understand they meant no harm, I opened up
Holding a pen and paper become my dream come true
Been taught how to read and write, fulfilled my ambitions

The truth lays in the steps I have left
It's a struggle to get done with your dreams
I ain't through yet, Who taught you?
That's a question that can't be answered directly
The journey has been long, with shortcomings, I haven't reached the end
I have just began and I ain't going to stop, till the road ends