Quotes about crime, page 14
Making The World A Safer Place
If humanity truly aspires, to globally evolve interact,
aspires to make the world a better safer place, for all people;
then would we, should we, not cooperate to fight crime?
Should we create an International Criminal Court
a permanent tribunal to prosecute individuals;
for genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes,
and the crime of aggression against other nations?
Would this help stop wars, aid the cause of world peace?
Should we cooperate internationally, to stop crimes of aggression?
Would this be an effective aid, in wars against terrorism?
Rejoice global peace loving nations, have indeed created,
supported in law, such an International Criminal Court.
The International Criminal Court, the ICC, currently it
cannot, will not; be able to exercise
jurisdiction over the crime of aggression;
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Coming Down Hard On Crime
They're coming down hard on crime.
And this you can believe.
All eyes will open wide.
And deceit and thieves,
Will cease to be.
So hold your head erect!
And know this will happen soon.
And sing a happy song.
Knowing we'll soon be crook free!
Come from behind those bushes,
Children.
Come...
Come sing along with me!
The 'boogeyman' is gone.
They're coming down hard on crime.
Sing...
('Coming down hard on crime...')
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Prime Commandment
The Prime Commandment
Of Murder, Manslaughter, Homicide! Oh! Such is this a Crime.
The three whilst so common are often much confused.
Murder is planned, intentional, real and with life, on the line.
With which DARK evil forces take hand in hand.
Manslaughter, whilst wicked is unplanned or premeditated.
Or so it is oft pleaded and said anyway.
Manslaughter, Murder, Homicide, ? The saddest of all fates.
Best avoided, if one is to reach an old age?
Learn? Homicide chiefly occurs in a Murder!
………………………………………………………….
Manslaught er, a soft cloak for Murder sublime.
In self-defence Murder can be culpable.
Most Cops and Crime victims from time to time agree.
Justifiable, some say, in preventing atrocious crime.
But! No one has a just cause to Murder.
Life of a King, President, Fly or a Bum is still precious.
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poem by Philip Winchester
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Defending This Diminishes Quick
Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip is a crime.
Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip...
Is a crime.
And people who do nothing but sit on stoops...
With a hoop all day that's hollered,
Is crude and rude.
And children overseeing this,
Think these attitudes done...
Are cool to copy too.
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Circling, Circling
Circling, Circling…
Date: December 5,2012
Circling back to scene of the crime
Laying it down, repeating the rhyme
Like falling falling, torn from the sky
Still fanning the flame that passed me by
Cloud nine floating just above my head
I keep reaching for the stars instead
It's a grand illusion that can never be
I've blocked it out, I refuse to see
I'm burned up, burned out, I can't admit
Cause I've held too long to call it quits
A fire still burns deep inside
If only a spark, could turn the tide
So I circle back to the scene of the crime
Singing my songs, repeating the rhyme
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poem by Leria Hawkins
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The Crowing of the Red Cock
Across the Eastern sky has glowed
The flicker of a blood-red dawn,
Once more the clarion cock has crowed,
Once more the sword of Christ is drawn.
A million burning rooftrees light
The world-wide path of Israel's flight.
Where is the Hebrew's fatherland?
The folk of Christ is sore bestead;
The Son of Man is bruised and banned,
Nor finds whereon to lay his head.
His cup is gall, his meat is tears,
His passion lasts a thousand years.
Each crime that wakes in man the beast,
Is visited upon his kind.
The lust of mobs, the greed of priest,
The tyranny of kings, combined
To root his seed from earth again,
His record is one cry of pain.
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poem by Emma Lazarus
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Forgotten People
In Council Flats live the forgotten people
At the slum end the poorer side of town
They live on welfare like their dads before them
And from where they live a long hike to renown.
They always wear their football scarves and beanies
And take them with them everywhere they go
They worship their football teams and football heroes
The only sort of culture that they know.
Their addresses they find not to their advantage
For employees employers look elsewhere
They tend to think that those living in the slum parts
Unfit for work and softened from welfare.
With the Council Flats the cops are well acquainted
They know it as a breeding ground for crime
There are not many there without crime record
Who have not been in jail and served out time.
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poem by Francis Duggan
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The Southern Press
When a Negro comes in question you may watch the Southern press,
See how bias its opinions, how his ills are given stress,
Prominence is given headlines, when accused he is of crime,
Emphasizes all the evils of the Negro ev'ry time.
If a white man comes in question you may watch the press again,
How its dignity it loses in a compromise with sin,
Down in some secluded corner you the story may behold,
Where the public may not find it, sadly there the tale is told.
It condemns the sins of Negroes which in white men 'twill excuse,
If a Negro's crime is grievous here's the heading it will use:
'He's a candidate for lynching,' in a type that's bold and plain,
If a heinous crime's committed by a white man, 'he's insane.'
When the Negroes prove their manhood and their homes protection give,
They're pronounced as desperadoes and too desperate to live,
Nothing like its ever published of a white man, though his case
May be ten times more revolting and far deeper the disgrace.
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poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Death visits in the garden, in the night
‘The dead man was a six-foot ex-heavyweight,
funding his unpaid youth club work
by working as security in a night-club;
shot for gently warning
a smoker in the garden; no witnesses
have come forward… the dead man’s brother
was a probation officer; now, from despair,
a crime prevention officer…’
Committees meet, look serious, nod…
are the crime figures up or down this year?
but the ones who could enlighten us
just how it is, are the inarticulate…
‘I worshipped my Dad, always so sharp-dressed,
gold watch, rings, bracelet, all that stuff…
but we didn’t see enough of him…
he had several ladies.. he’d appear,
unannounced, every few weeks with
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poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Defence
Not guilty, yer Honers! I talks to yer straight!
An' I calls it a pretty crook game
An' an 'og of a thing, if the coppers should bring
Such dishonor as this on me name
On me name that 'as stood fer up'oldin' the good!
It's enough to make any bloke weep!
An' the goods as they says I received - spare me days!
Don't I tell yer I bought 'em dirt cheap!
Yes, I bought 'em dirt cheap; an' I says to the Bench,
As a man 'oo acts honest an' square,
That me solid defence is poun's, shillin's an' pence,
An' I arsts yer to deal with me fair.
Fer it's more than a joke when a square-livin' bloke
Is 'ad up fer committin' a crime;
Fer the JOHN, 'ere, 'e swears to the goods, an' declares
As I knoo they was pinched at the time.
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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