Long Ghettos Poems
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What is this world really about?
I can listen to the President and still not understand a word out of his mouth,
Is he for the American people or is he only in office to institute wars,
He captured Saddam so I guess for his father he has settled all the scores.
But look at our nation right now; we’re still suffering from poverty,
Why not show our kids in the ghettos something else wonderful to see,
Let’s do away with the crimes and take the guns off the streets,
This would be my main topic for when the President and I come to meet!
“Dear Sir, how are you doing my name is Curtis and I’m a tax paying citizen,”
It seems like you’re glorifying your capture of Saddam but this war we didn’t win,
We have soldiers in Iraq dying for absolutely no reason,
And if they abandon your Father’s war you’ll hold them for treason!
Saddam was said to possess weapons of mass destruction,
I think an impeachment is call for before you lead us into corruption,
In 2005 I think Florida’s voting poles shouldn’t be mention,
And by the end of 2005 voting, George Bush Jr. should be awaiting his pension!
I have spoken about one of the problems in our society so I should assail another,
This cry for awareness goes out to my fellow black brothers,
We are caught up in Babylon’s system with all our material items,
Sean John puts out hundred dollars sweat suits and we’ll rush out to buy them.
Big Tymers wear these icy chains and we label them as stars,
While young black men sees this as truly living while locked up behind bars,
We have been brainwash and told that this was the way to be living,
I don’t believe in those views because my state of mind is to be giving.
I was born into this world with a little weak mind,
It was easily corrupted that it directed me to a short period of crime,
But a wise man came into my life and showed me the right way,
He’s in Heaven now but I still bout my head to him every night when I pray!
In time of dismay I know he’ll always be by my side,
And I thank you again Tennyson for teaching me to keep my pride,
At the beginning of this poem I asked, “What is this world really about?”
So everyone take a look at yourselves and tell me who’s the real sell out?
“Even in a world of weeds a Rose can still be form”
Form:
Why does the Moon think she is obligated to hide her body from the Earth?
Does she not know her revolving mass entrances our eyeballs to her blueish, gray hue?
Doesn't she know that when she shows her entire body we all marvel at her simplistic natural beauty?
How can she expect us to continually pay attention to her when she purposely fools our light, feeble hearts?
She knows us,
She knows how to turn our emotions into her little play trinkets,
Constantly turning our minds into a pathetic mush forcing us to follow her graceful body around,
Does she think it is okay to show only a section of her texture while leaving the rest of her "confined side" in the bleak darkness?
It should not have to take a spotlight for us people too see what is behind the Moon's impenetrable black cloak,
What do you think we are going to do, exclude you from our existence?
Ignore you?
Did you ever think about how we are side by side with each other every night?
Do you think this is going to ruin our already convoluted broken-down relationship?
No matter who you are or who you portray yourself to be,
We are going to have to by you,
You have become such a big part of us that we could not even survive without your presence,
Are we nothing to you?
We realize, yes, you are all the way up there in the sky looking down at us as if you are on the top of this ghostly cast system, rotating around without stress, surrounded by immense amounts of beauty,
and us "below-class people" are down here in the ghettos of our planet mewling and battling each other in pointless wars,
But that does not means you can undermine us just because your feign personality believes she can,
We have to be able to know you,
How can you believe that this is fair?
You have been given the ability to climb the rocky walls of our true personalities and feeling,
But you have cowardly plugged up all your deep craters with ice and darkness,
We just want to see the other true half of your beauty,
We want to dive deep within those dark abuse marks of your's, scoop out the ice, light up a fire and slowly rebuild you into your original perfectly circular self,
Why can't you understand Moon,
We are trying to help you,
Please,
Reveal yourself to us,
Let us refill those beauty marks of your's,
And prove to us you are more than just a gigantic rock.
-Corey Gordon, 14
Imagine Earth itself to be just another Troy, from which, after having raged
In countless battles from Tyre to Megiddo has not been conquered, only aged
And now, having defeated the Spartan race, destroying Priam’s home
Odysseus is captain of a spacecraft with the direction of Ithaca not known
On land to land, world to world, asteroid to comet, sun to galaxy he will wander lost
With endless delay, look askance-or with wanderlust-be unable to define a host
Of angels, like the first home, who—with celestial sound—closed God on a throne
Only future starmen will proceed without God's advantage, in empty space all alone
The victory of God against Satan, here, unproclaimed with all men lost, in between
The endless battles of lucifer and the deity; heaven's splinter to the devil's spleen
The past ages of travail, a mere testing ground of efficacy, the master's saving grace
With the bulk of humanity, like chaff of wheat, having been sifted, as if only a race
Mankind, having run as a race, a race, quite long, the original cause forgotten
How corruption had entered, how the fall began, when Eve traipsed the garden
Yet the race of man; his nature, his spoke, his mind, like a wheel intermingled
Along with the path of the gods--their flight, their call--the Seth of Eve first jingled
How could he not but cry out, from crib, in inter-mixed and complex strain
Since so saith Adam's wife, doting upon her first real child aptly named
Appointed to replace her prior kind, one stricken and one banished
Shepherd Abel first, died, from blight of Cain, latter, whose soul famished
If not his body, since fed with fruit and till of the land, in parched curse
His work distilled into nonsense, and measure as much less in worth
Then the gentle, strange and loving work of the Shepherd's hand
From Shepherd to shepherd, the Maker gave not to Abel land
Since he roamed from brook to brook, or down into gentle meadow
With his staff in hand, and flock afoot, only the caves like ghettos
Learning manly ways and singing with chest open and bare
Under open sky, canopy misting light, and all of life seeming fair
The Lord, himself, culling Abel's rapport and favour, giving him trust
Rather than partition acres, cubits or parcels of land, if only just just
you like history here you go, a list of their history in short
740. BC The Assyrians cursed them.
579. BC The Babylonians fell asleep and remained for about 60 years.
70. The Romans suppressed their rebellion and destroyed their temple.
135. The Romans suppressed their rebellion and expelled them once and for
all.
626. The start of their expulsion from the Arabian Peninsula.
1080. Expulsion from France.
1098. Expulsion from Czech Republic.
1113. Expulsion from Kievan Rus (Vladimir Monomakh).
Since.. Hoarseness of them in Kiev in 1113.
1147. Expulsion from France (second time)
Expulsion from Italy.
1188. Expulsion from England.
1198. Expulsion from England (Second Time).
1290. Expulsion from England (Third Time).
1298. Expulsion from Switzerland (extermination of 100 of them by hanging).
1306. Expulsion from France (third time, hot. s 3000 of them alive)
Expulsion from Hungary 1360.
1391. Expulsion from Spain.
1394. Expulsion from France (Fourth Time).
1407. Expulsion from Poland.
1492. Expulsion from Spain (second time and passage of a law banning them
from entering the country forever).
1492. Expulsion from Sicily.
Expulsion from Lithuania and Kiev.
Expulsion from Portugal.
1510. Expulsion from England (Fourth Time).
Expulsion from Portugal (second time).
1516. A law in Sicily allows them to live in their own neighborhoods only.
1541. Expulsion from Austria.
Expulsion from Portugal (third time).
A law in Rome allows them to live in ghettos only.
Expulsion from Italy.
Expulsion from Germany (Brandenburg).
Expulsion from Novgorod (Ivan the Terrible).
1592. Expulsion from France (Fifth Time).
Expulsion from Switzerland (second time).
Expulsion from Spain and Portugal (Philip IV) (Fourth time).
1660 . Expulsion from Kiev (second time).
1701. Complete expulsion from Switzerland (decree of Philip V).(Third time).
1806. Napoleonic Alert. Padarja.
1828. Expulsion from Kiev (third time).
1933. Expulsion from Germany.
only god forgive we don't
we are not the curse
of all your crimes
we are not guilty
of all the deaths of
the innocent
dead on every streets
we are not the reason
why we are in poverty
all this time past
till now
is not by our making
that hard struggles is
always what is
left to survive
in our ghettos
is not our prayers
to live below
one dollar per day in Africa
no no no
we the People are
not guilty
and we wish if we are
to forgive those that
curse all this calamities
where will we start from
so that is not for human
but for God
only God forgives we don't
is not our dreams
to be slaves right
in our own land or abroad
is not our wish
to be neglected
by our leaders
our governments actions
before and now is
never our desire
oh is not our aims
to see our life's
this ugly in the
midst of plenty
I just wish God can
forgive them
for that is left for
him alone
only God forgives we don't
is not our wish
to be hopeless
is not our hope
to cope with
this brutal political
illusion of change
is not our fault
that they always
lie to us
I know they don't
understand life
where life is supposed
to lead us through a light
of love peace and happiness
so it does not make
us happy when we
always have to see
our love ones short gone
down six feet for nothing
oh God we can't forget
all this
so is hard for we to forgive
yes that is difficult for us
and if this is true then
only God can forgive
only God can forgive we don't
I wish it is easy to forgive
then our heart will have been
more lighter
everyday nowadays
our youths are on the run
so many end up on the high sea
so many got dried up at the
hot desert
in North Africa
oh is not our wish to run always
from home
is never in our hearts and minds
to live in wars
is so sad to see our homes on fire
all because some intelligent
human beings are
greedy heartless and so ignorant
of a simple truth
I just wish we could forget and
forgive
but all this calamities
is not of our making
and this means
only God can forgive we don't
A cannibal of currency
You’re not yourself anymore.
Became your purse long ago,
Sense of self tied to coins
Of which you’ve never held.
Little man, little man,
where is your home?
The house on this hill
Just an empty shell
Painted like so much canvas.
There for the eyes of your peers
But your peers aren’t your friends
And your friends aren’t around
Tell me please, where did they go?
Little man, little man,
Do you hear the sound?
No one is calling your name
Where did they go
And where are they now
And why aren’t your friends in their homes?
Little man, little man
Do you hear the sound?
They’re making it plain as day.
You ate their income
Ate them of their house and their home.
A cannibal for currency-
Consumed all your friends,
Fat little pig on the hill.
Little man, little man
(You) can no longer ignore the sounds
Of ten thousand mouths
All hungry for you.
You ate their money
But you couldn’t stomach
The pure human spirit inside.
Now they have crawled back,
Out from the ghettos,
Starving and hungry for you.
Forced to eat each other,
You’ve all but raised cannibals,
But this time of flesh and of blood.
Little pig, little pig,
Can you hear the sound,
Or have you become deaf
To your own cries as well?
No one will miss you
You don’t have a home
Your friends became food
A long time ago.
(Die Geld von die Leute Sie Essen gekauft
Sie isst ihr Geld,
Mehr jeden Tag,
Kein Geld fur Essen
Sie isst Sich,
Jagd nach dem Hunger,
Fett kleiner Mann,
Jetzt der Jaeger ist Essen fur jeden Mund
Kleinen Schwein, Kleinen Schwein
Konnen Sie den ton horen?)*
Greasy lip smacks
Sound like ten thousand claps,
The only applause that you’ll ever hear.
----
*The absolutely horribly written German stanza (pls halp).
The money of the people bought their food
You ate their money, More every day,
No money for food, They ate themselves,
Hunting the hungry, Fat little man,
Now the hunter is food for every mouth,
Little pig, little pig, Can you hear the sound?
It’s been forever since I spoke any sort of German and it’s fading fast. Sad face.
Those who today loudly voice their complaints
Might do well to study a people most quaint
The Jewish People for 3,332 years has survived
Despite pogroms and holocausts, still quite alive
A former slave nation exiled to Persia almost 2,500 years ago
Jerusalem then razed to the ground by Rome, as you know
Jews lived by the skin of their teeth for 1,900 years
Until they retook Jerusalem in 1967, a miracle it appeared
Herded into ghettos in Western Europe 'til Napoleon
And the 'Pale of Settlement' further east 'til the 20th century dawned
Jews kept a low profile, in the face of Injustice didn't complain
Beatings, Blood-Libels, Round-ups -- all sorts of Pain
Jews couldn't own land; they were barred from all professions
Countless peasants falsely accused Jews of murder at confession
The Jew became a middleman, a despised money-changer
If he tried to pass for a gentile, his very life was in danger
As if all that weren't enough, last century 6 million precious Jewish souls
died in Nazi gas chambers, crematoria, trenches, open holes
One-third of all the world's Jews wiped out in just six years
Pregnant women and infants murdered in that Valley of Tears
Today Jews are in Jerusalem, Israel! a People standing strong
They refused to give up hope just because they were wronged
What's their secret, you may ask. How did they do it
No smoke. No mirrors. They just stubbornly stuck to it...
Rule #1: Education, universal literacy for all of their seed
From the age of three, every Jewish child's taught to read
Next: Family purity, the holiness and sanctity of wedlock
Women always had rights! but no infant aborted, no child 'bad luck'
And finally, what kept it all together, down through the ages
An unshakeable belief in God and His Law, no matter the outrages
So, from the Jews you might want to take a softer-voiced cue
For you too can do it. Just follow three rules...
Times are hard
Yet it seems to have always been that way
We all seem to have the weight of the world on are shoulders
Forgotten how to share the lode with are brothers and sisters
Forgotten how to lend a helping hand
While others flourish
Others suffers
The ghettos have grown
Fare from the plantations slaves were kept on
Is it fear that allows us to let are brothers suffer
Segregated by what they never accomplished
Left with anger asking why they will never be good enough
So they take what they can never have
Stealing slices from the pies left cooling in window seals
For their crimes they get punished
Jailed behind not only bars
But the backs of those that have succeeded
They still feel the chances that bound their grandfathers
I’m not making excess or justifying what some brothers do
We all chose what we will do
So why is it that we let sing mothers struggle
When the hardest thing they do is have to tell their kids why daddy doesn’t love them
But they thanks God for their kids, even when no one else loves them
Working the only two jobs they can
When it takes four just to make ends meet
They try so hard to make a life they never had
Keep their kids from behind bars
But you can’t keep your eyes on your kids all the time
And when things go south
They blame the mothers
When they should blame them selves for not helping out
So moms go home and scream and cry
Because their babies are falling and they don’t know how to help them
Times are hard
But they have always seemed to be that way
So we hold on to childhood dreams
Hoping that we will someday have that house with a white picket fens
Yet fairy tales seem to only be for moves
And that it seems will be the way things will stay
Like having money for war
But not enough to feed the poor
What has this world crumbled to?
A death land Satin would love to have
Unless we can look deep with in are selves
Grab the hands of are lost families
And pull them from this poverty
Gunshots be leavin 'em children alone
they gotta find a way all on they own
kids screamin out sets for hope
then run around with a crew slangin dope
can't forget that they saw they fathers go
witness to earth the bloodiest show
to young to truly understand
despite what ya heard God won't hold your hand
It seems to me that we've been forlorn
destined death after death to mourn
lookin at the future of us all
death to brothas come at a sudden call
little children begin to see the light
keep on killin knowin that it ain't right
but desperation sets in hopin for death
because it's to painful to take another breath
How many of my brotha's died last week
an an answer given not for the weak
life like this shoulda made us sick
creepin in streets tryin not to get licked
time again are numbers start to dwindle
hopein for knew life in this race to be kindled
but all we ever do is disappear
it's funny that are lives are consumed by fear
and are youngstas reproduce fast
more brothas get shot lives endin in head casts
why do we gotta die at such a rate
a brotha feel cold heat as if it's fate
and as my brothas always seem to die
my race got another reason to cry
little niggas is our only men
no more elders in my dearest black kin
Now we got kids runnin da street
that means, the judge and jury da heat
the boys in blue pilein up da dead
crackas in th oval office shakein da head
the ghettos so lost can we find a way
it seem's that the only hope we got is to pray
and children already learn how god do
give to those who take so we take with a 22
now we gotta cope, sippin' on brew
gettin faded thinkin bout the dirt we do
and that just make a brotha think
why we be born livin on da brink
seein bodies fallin fast in packs
cause it be like we forced to fire back
so thelast thing is to put bodies in bags
at da funeral drapin our brothas with rags
In the depths of the night, when the stars dim their light and dreams unfurl their wings,
I venture to the hidden realms of the soul, where nostalgia weaves its web,
Like a melancholic treasure gathered through the ages, in the cities of the faithless,
In the ghettos of silence, in the sunsets of the steppes, in the dreams of those who yearned for you,
Jerusalem, by the waters of Babylon, where longing becomes song and memory, a tale.
What else have you been, Israel, but that desire to save, like a beacon in the fog of time,
Preserving your magical and ancient book, your ceremonies as sacred incantations,
Your solitude with God, like a cathedral of silence amidst the world's tumult.
But no, the oldest of nations is reborn evermore as a youthful tremor,
You did not tempt people with the gardens of Eden or the glimmer of the vanity of gold,
But with tireless labor on a besieged land, like a dream taking shape at dawn.
Wordlessly, Israel whispered to them:
Forget who you are and who you have been, like a leaf carried by the wind of change,
Forget the person you were in those lands that gave you their mornings and evenings,
Lands that are now only echoes in memory, where you need not look back longingly.
You will forget your father's language and learn the tongue of Paradise, like a music of beginnings.
On this river of thoughts, I let myself be carried,
Feeling how each word becomes a falling star in the night of eternity,
Building a new realm where memories are but delicate shadows,
And the present, a field of hopes blooming under the light of a new dawn,
The future, an unknown language awaiting discovery in the silence of a prayer,
Here, at the edge of time, we reinvent ourselves with each step,
And learn the art of living without looking back,
For in forgetting, rebirth is born, and in rebirth, eternity.