http://mylistinggh.com/wp-content/upshur/wiro-russian-dating.php You may read our interview with the son of the poet in one of our earlier issues to get the full context of who James Patrick Kinney was. Without further delay, here is the poem:.
I look at my son. I see the hair, The rebellious attitude, the strange set of values, The unbending stand which says I want none of your ways, I spit on your values.
Leave me be. And I am sad.
I see a disregard for life. The riots, The contempt for law, the hatred Which feeds on itself and grows To become a way of life.
Out of the ashes a new nation was born Building peace and democracy in scorn Wounded we emerged from the plight With only the hope of a better future in sight A promise of freedom and dignity was offered But hindsight In the midst of it all one question plagues her mind Who will help me? Linda B November 18, at AM. We need a better world A better world where every child has access to quality education A better world where every child is happy A better world where every child can express himself freely We need a better world A better world where there is no inequality between people A better world where people sit together to work A better world where there is fair partnership between nations We need a better world A better world where the sun of peace is shining on the Globe A better world where there is no war A better world where there is no ethnic or religious group violence We need a better world A better world where there is no artificial borders between countries A better world where we can travel to any country without visas A better world where we are one and united We need a better world A better world free of corruption A better world where there is real democracy A better world where presidential mandates are limited and respected. I dream of myself rising, a child of Africa now grown into a man, keeping out the bad guys who divide us to create a market for their guns in exchange with our petrol and gold. Report This Poem. Generous to a fault.
I see. I hear. I feel. And I am fearful.
If this were but the limit of my vision, My life, my very being, would have no meaning. But I see beyond the irritants, the noise, the confusion.
I see a desire. I hear a cry. You have an ad blocker! We understand, but PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue.
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I dream of a better world, a better place to roam. No more pain, lies, no more hatred shown. This perfect world I live in, doesn't matter if your skins dark or light. Everyone's treated equally, whether your Mexican, Asian, or white.