A 3rd world poem

* A 3rd world poem *

(Example from: The Dubliners – Sands of Sudan)

The little boy and girl on the dusty drying sand

They’re having no money

and to weak to hold out their shriveled hand

Murders what they’ve seen, in their own eyes

Looking up with a face, so painful and sad The boy seems heartless as the girl cries But he’s also as sad as her, you wished you never had Abandoned to mother nature So much grief, you won’t believe These poor hungry people really need some relief

So it seems destiny lead their lives for how long it goes And only an explicit thin body in sight Their crying soul wished to escape from their breast Still praying for an angel to make it all right They can’t do snything

because they are to slack

Beastly people which steal their last hopes Plus they are seen like the lowest grade

Because they are vlack

Horribly happens in those third world lands …

The heat of the sun is burning on their poor little head

Scared to get died

Searching for a little piece of bread

And waiting for just another cold fright night

Just like war is a funny game

Like you finish every person what’s on the way

The strong against the lame Leprosy and AIDS, and other type of sadly diseases It let fall those third world lands ultimately ...
into pieces

Well, if they will return to their village

I guess it become a sore loss

Seeing how it’s been burnt off to one level

All a nasty order of the big bad boss

Searching with rolling tears

to mommy and dad

But they can’t find them, it’s so terribly sad

that people just kill other people

just for money or fun It becomes more severally by day If those children get there own gun . . .

Manjula

Geschreven door

Manjula

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Auteur: Manjula
Gecontroleerd door: Sheena
Gepubliceerd op: 20 december 2006
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