Most Commented Political / Social Poems (810)

The earth baked into a hot hard crust
Where refugees cannot escape the lust
No water no food just political disgust
Oh lack of rain earth large cracks deepest
And thristy leaves curl stunted fruit barest
Little relief fade as clouds are fewest
Passing still no drops of rain sparist
Awaiting anxious harvest in toil frankest
Baking down make powder fly from dung disgust
Children squatting with gasping breath frailest
From journey brought on bonely legs weakest
Across wicked wasted plains of drought gravest
Breaking hearts and destroying dreams proudest
Oh give a heart and help the earth's poorest!!

rhetoric right wing
shenanigans politic
citizens left out

undo construction
blockade administration
stimey the country

no aid for the poor
tax the poor not the wealthy
not our fault they're poor

control birth control
no women control their bodies
God is on our side

(I could go on forever....but I'm not gonna')

Oh the hate and anger there
The pain and mistrust
Fist in pocket, tightly clenched
Shoulders round and hunched

What in life has made you this
Brought you such despair
The suffering carved on your face
So plain for all to see

Clothes are ragged, dirty too
A bottle your best friend
Sleep on benches where you can
No place to call a home

How I wish that I could help
Yet help you soundly scorn
A meal, a drink, is all you want
For the rest you could not care

So now a licence you do have
And on the road we find you
Rules you think do not apply
They only apply to others

Speed signs you think such a joke
The road was made for racing
Look out world, here I come
You scream with pedal to metal

Should a car get in your way
Abuse you hurl at them
Toss a bottle, cut them off
Whatever takes your fancy

What a shame that some of you
Won't live past mid twenties
Mangled wrecks and screams of pain
All that could've been avoided

Flip the coin, the answer's there
Bat or bowl is the question
Suited up the batsman goes
To face the bowler's fury

Glare at him, the evil eye
And start his mighty run up
Let ball fly at tremendous pace
Must be almost a hundred and fifty

Crack of ball against willow
And shouts of, catch it
Arms outstretched and in the air
The fingers find their target

Excited men mill around
As batsman back to pavilion
One wicket down with nine to go
The battle has just begun

Sounds of thunder sounds of pain
Sounds of children playing in the rain
Sounds of war, guns firing, people dying
High in the sky coloured kites are flying
Bodies mangled, dying and dead
Teachers teach kids to get ahead
Screams of pain that pierce the air
Mother and baby asleep in armchair
Streets stained with blood of innocents
Classes are full of bright eyed students
People praying to God above
Young couple, arm in arm, professing love
Face down dying on foreign ground
Joyful laughter of games in playground
Save me Lord, please save my life
Please Lord protect innocence, keep away strife

im so sick of hearing all the excuses
i grew up in a broken home
i wasnt loved by my family
i was a foster child
why does everyone have to blame something else

have i made mistakes yes
did i have a broken home yes
was i a foster child yes
is this the reason for all my bad choices no

we need more people to be real
we need to stop excepting the excuses
for once we need to take responsibility
our actions are what we choose to do

does having a bad upbringing help no
but you have to be a person and make a choice
if you mess up its not your past that is to blame
if you choose to do something wrong then you are

the past is exactly that the past
you have to learn from it and grow
dont make the same mistakes your parents did
dont do the same things all the others did

if stupidity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results
then why do we keep making the same choice that everyone else does
unless we learn from our pasts and try to change
the excuses will always be the same

My skull is very small and the world is very large
Both are so fragile and so very hard to comprehend
Physical things filtered like washing sand in the surf
Counting the number of clicks it takes to pretend
To get what I need to know, not always what I understand
Is inventing what is right and proving what is wrong
Not waiting for anything like truth to come along?
Something is very sterile about the World Wide Web
Because it doesn’t smell like bacon or taste like bread?
Weeding out some unexpected truth from being told
Just move my finger…click….move it again…click
I don't need a mind that thinks I just need my finger
Now look at me and see how I’ve become an expert, too

She came here to a land so cold,
Searching for those streets of gold,
From friends and family she went away,
It is such a heavy price to pay,
A strange land and a language new,
The thoughts of home make her feel blue,
The feeling of loss in her heart it burns,
She prays for the day when she returns.

you may seem to notice
that i do not always seem to please...
if you don't understand
then i give you the stand...

i may seem to be different
but i'm just a part of the indent...
well,for you i may behave strange
yet everybody has there own way...
i may see you strange too and you may see me
strange...that the strangest way...
no choice...
deal with it...
cause we we're not born to please everybody...