TOP UNDYING DECLAMATION PIECES

1. "Bad Girl"

Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..

You! You! All of you!
How dare you to stare at me?
Why? Is it because I'm a bad girl?
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a problem child?
That's what you call me!
I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age.
I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.
Yes, I'm a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society where I live?
Look…look at me…What have you done to me?
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you
most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was much lower than mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling session…
Thus… I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father's love, yearning for a mother's care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong tables, bars and night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the newspaper as crooks, peddlers and
racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future…
Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you…
Protect me from all evil influences that will threaten at my very own
understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you've got to help me!
Help me! Oh please…Help me!

2. "Juvenile Delinquent"

Am I a juvenile delinquent? I’m a teenager, I’m young, young at heart in mind. In this position,
I’m carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but to drink the wine of pleasure. I seldom go to school,
nobody cares!. But instead you can see me roaming around. Standing at the nearby canto (street).
Or else standing beside a jukebox stand playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are the reasons,
why people, you branded me delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected me. One night I
asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life. Would you care what she told
me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to dress up for my mahjong session, some other
time my child". I turned to my father to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me.
"Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing me with these
words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100 by 5! Go home and plant
sweet potatoes".

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But that’s not what
you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to enlighten her way and guidance to
strenghten her life into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a juvenile
delinquent?.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected me. One night I
asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life. Would you care what she told
me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to dress up for my mahjong session, some other
time my child". I turned to my father to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me.
"Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it and enjou yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing me with these
words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100 by 5! Go home and plant
sweet potatoes".

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But that’s not what
you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to enlighten her way and guidance to
strenghten her life into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a juvenile
delinquent?.

3. "The Unpardonable Crime"

Only one living creature seemed to take any notice of his existence:
this was an old St. Bernard, who used to come and lay his big head with its mournful eyes on
Christophe's knees when Christophe was sitting on the seat in front of the house. They would look
long at each other. Christophe would not drive him away Unlike the sick Goethe, the dog's eyes
had no uneasiness for him Unlike him, he had no desire to cry:
"Go away! . . . Thou goblin thou shalt not catch me, whatever thou doest!"
He asked nothing better than to be engrossed by the dog's suppliant sleepy eyes and to help the
beast: he felt that there must be behind them an imprisoned soul imploring his aid.

In those hours when he was weak with suffering, torn alive away from life, devoid of human
egoism, he saw the victims of men, the field of battle in which man triumphed in the bloody
slaughter of all other creatures: and his heart was filled with pity and horror. Even in the days
when he had been happy he had always loved the beasts: he had never been able to bear cruelty
towards them: he had always had a detestation of sport, which he had never dared to express for
fear of ridicule: but his feeling of repulsion had been the secret cause of the apparently
inexplicable feeling of dislike he had had for certain men: he had never been able to admit to his
friendship a man who could kill an animal for pleasure. It was not sentimentality: no one knew
better than he that life is based on suffering and infinite cruelty: no man can live without making
others suffer. It is no use closing our eyes and fobbing ourselves off with words. It is no use either
coming to the conclusion that we must renounce life and sniveling like children. No. We must kill
to live, if, at the time, there is no other means of living. But the man who kills for the sake of
killing is a miscreant. An unconscious miscreant, I know. But, all the same, a miscreant. The
continual endeavor of man should be to lessen the sum of suffering and cruelty: that is the first
duty of humanity.

In ordinary life those ideas remained buried in Christophe's inmost heart. He refused to think of
them. What was the good? What could he do? He had to be Christophe, he had to accomplish his
work, live at all costs, live at the cost of the weak. ... It was not he who had made the universe. . . .
Better not think of it, better not think of it. ...

But when unhappiness had dragged him down, him, too, to the level of the vanquished, he had to
think of these things. Only a little while ago he had blamed Olivier for plunging into futile
remorse and vain compassion for all the wretchedness that men suffer and inflict. Now he went
even farther: with all the vehemence of his mighty nature he probed to the depths of the tragedy of
the universe: he suffered all the sufferings of the world, and was left raw and bleeding. He could
not think of the animals without shuddering in anguish. He looked into the eyes of the beasts and
saw there a soul like his own, a soul which could not speak: but the eyes cried for it:

"What have I done to you? Why do you hurt me?" He could not bear to see the most ordinary
sights that he had seen hundreds of times —a calf crying in a wicker pen, with its big, protruding
eyes, with their bluish whites and pink lids, and white lashes, its curly white tufts on its forehead,
its purple snout, its knock-kneed legs:—a lamb being carried by a peasant with its four legs tied
together, hanging head down, trying to hold its head up, moaning like a child, bleating and lolling
its gray tongue:—fowls huddled together in a basket:—the distant squeals of a pig being bled to
death:—a fish being cleaned on the kitchen-table. . . . The nameless tortures which men inflict on
such innocent creatures made his heart ache. Grant animals a ray of reason, imagine what a
frightful nightmare the world is to them: a dream of cold-blooded men, blind and deaf, cutting
their throats, slitting them open, gutting them, cutting them into pieces, cooking them alive,
sometimes laughing at them and their contortions as they writhe in agony. Is there anything more
atrocious among the cannibals of Africa? To a man whose mind is free there is something even
more intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the sufferings of men. For with the latter it is
at least admitted that suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a criminal. But thousands
of animals are uselessly butchered every day without a shadow of remorse. If any man were to
refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous.—And that is the unpardonable crime. That alone is the
justification of all that men may suffer. It cries vengeance upon God. If there exists a good God,
then even the most humble of living things must be saved. If God is good only to the strong, if
there is no justice for the weak and lowly, for the poor creatures who are offered up as a sacrifice
to humanity, then there is no such thing as goodness, no such thing as justice.