Quotes about cruelty, page 5
Justice and Righteousness?
How can we speak of justice?
Mercy
Righteousness
How do we proclaim it aloud?
Speak up against the cruelty?
Lord can we cry out for mercy?
For those that die daily,
For the helpless children
Those sold into slavery
For abuse and violence
Mercy
Mercy
Mercy
What we need is your mercy
Justice
Fair treatment
Human dignity restored
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poem by Jessica Nobubele Frame
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I Wonder Where My Lions Are?
I wonder where my lions are?
I wonder where my lions are?
I wonder where my lions are?
They are safe running in heaven in that beautiful park that God own in Heaven together with the other animals
Also in heaven they are protected by God
Because God doesn't allow any hunters in heaven
Like here on the earth
But there is no animal cruelty in heaven
But the place that have animal cruelty is on the earth
The people that lives in heaven are more educated than on the earth
The people in heaven respect the animals in heaven
The people on earth don't respect the animals on the earth
The people in heaven have a lot of love for the animals
The people on the earth don't seem to have any love for the animals
Even when I sleep I dream of heaven and I see the lions and other Animals
Living free in the park
And I must say that the park in heaven that God made is beautiful
But at the same time I thank God for giving the animals a beautiful Home
poem by Aldo Kraas
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George Crabbe Wrote Of
George Crabbe wrote of hardship and poverty and woe
In the England he lived in a long time ago
But perhaps his poems might be more popular today
Had he looked at life in a less truthful way.
George Crabbe wrote of children in dire poverty
The poor sad victims of Human cruelty
And the poems full of pathos and the poems full of truth
Of a poet who was blessed with the great gift of ruth.
He wrote of human cruelty to their own kind
A God in the soul of such a person you'll find
He did not write of mythological figures or monarch or squire
He wrote for the poor his type I do admire.
Of the poverty around him he was all too aware
But poets like George Crabbe they have always been rare
Though if you feel a bit down and a good laugh you do need
His poems lacking in Humor are not for you to read.
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poem by Francis Duggan
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The River of Blood
It’s the river of blood
Initiated by the enemies of God
And when advised too or told to stop
They just give you the nod
The nod of ignorance and cruelty
The nod of no life and no feel
As they are told about they’re evilness
They believe that none of it is real
It’s the river of blood
That flows down a dark and red stream
And as I dip my hand in, it feels like sour, bitter cream
It’s the river of blood
The river of cruelty and pain
The river of blood
The river that flows in vain
The river that will never end
The river full of the dead
The river where they remain silently hopeless
The river where the majority of them bled
It’s this river of blood where I inject my power and strength from
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poem by Marria Attar
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Bush Wacked Liberty
bush wacked liberty courtesy of skull and bones mentality
an illuminati president bush wacked citizens into clone senility
repeatedly boasted proud published rhetoric memoirs gory glory
ghost written claimed waterboarding is not form torture insanity
forcing tortured suspects to swallow heinous bush crime cruelty
forcing citizen clone people to swallow heinous bush policy
torturous might is right torture is bush legacy crime cruelty
victims drowning under control conditions without mercy
agony drowning once traumatic struggle military preliminary
agony drowning cells dying fighting denied life breath humility
agony drowning traumatic struggle resident evil repeatedly
inflicts on fellow human suspect beings drowned repeatedly
suspects innocent until proven guilty is not bush justice mentality
locked up Guantanamo suspects detainees tortured indiscriminately
torture of the innocent wins hearts minds of good people globally?
See also the poem ‘Government By The People For The People'.
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Trees, The River, The Skies And The Sea
the trees that we cut, the rivers that we pollute,
the sea that we abuse, the skies that we cut from our sights,
the explosions, the wars, the blunders
that man inflicted on his world
this is felt and everything destroyed once wriggled in pain
on this misery. what have we done? what have all these creatures
and landscapes done to deserve our cruelty
and insensitivity?
we may be gone at the end, when they take the vengeance
the sea opens up and swallows everything
the skies spit fire and thunder
the trees all die and the land fumes all the lava hidden underneath
we will lose every breath
and they may rejoice about our deaths and dissolution
there will be peace
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; II:
Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; II: On Malicious Cruelty To Harmless Creatures
The cruelty of P. L. Brown—
(He had ten toes as good as mine)
Was known to every one in town,
And, if he never harmed a noun,
He loved to make verbs shriek and whine.
The 'To be' family’s just complaints—
(Brown had ten toes as good as mine)
Made Brown cast off the last restraints:
He smashed the 'Is nots' into 'Ain’ts'
And kicked both mood and tense supine.
Infinitives were Brown’s dislike—
(Brown, as I said, had ten good toes)
And he would pinch and shake and strike
Infinitives, or, with a pike,
Prod them and then laugh at their woes.
At length this Brown more cruel grew—
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poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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To Mrs. Professor In Defense Of My Cat's Honor And Not Only
My valiant helper, a small-sized tiger
Sleeps sweetly on my desk, by the computer,
Unaware that you insult his tribe.
Cats play with a mouse or with a half-dead mole.
You are wrong, though: it's not out of cruelty.
They simply like a thing that moves.
For, after all, we know that only consciousness
Can for a moment move into the Other,
Empathize with the pain and panic of a mouse.
And such as cats are, all of Nature is.
Indifferent, alas, to the good and the evil.
Quite a problem for us, I am afraid.
Natural history has its museums,
But why should our children learn about monsters,
An earth of snakes and reptiles for millions of years?
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poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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Learning New Skills: something a little different
I smell the rancid stench of fear.
Although you sense that I am near.
You give no credibility
to anything which you can’t see.
You don’t believe in ghosts as such
And yet you’re conscious of my touch.
But you refuse to listen to
the inner voice that’s telling you
There are some things you can’t explain.
Some hidden aspect of your brain.
Which knows a great deal more than you
are prepared to believe is true.
You are aware your terrified
of something but you can’t decide.
If it is fact or fantasy.
Should you fight or should you flee.
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Desert flower
I am in interior part and known as desert flower
Rain is in scarce and rarely known what is called shower
May look some what strange but yes a reality
What else can be ruled out as distinct possibility!
Only tribes reside with almost nothing on hand
Exposed to hostile weather ands sans real friends
Not a loud cry may even reach to kind and sympathetic ears
Not for days, weeks, months or even long and unbearable years
I speak on behalf of uncared for female Falk
Where they have no freedom to raise voice or talk
Forget about dissention or torture but simple honor!
But simple mention of atrocities on even minor
“Children are messenger of God “simple established fact
Female children are not curse but needed care and kind act
Some of the tribes in Africa expose them unknown cruelty
Cut their vanes in unorthodox way so as not to have any fertility
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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