• Others 24.11.2008 No Comments

    Ah yes!…but Capital, your high prices
    chip away!…upon this free society.
    Our God-given confidence falters rightly,
    walking the streets of our sobriety.

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    Ah yes!…but Capital, your high prices
    chip away!…upon this free society.
    Our God-given confidence falters rightly,
    walking the streets of our sobriety.

    You now, charge for commodities–like
    pride is a power-angle of freedom.
    The more wealth you seem to possess,
    the greater your capital kingdom.

    Pardon my impertenance, but look here;
    power claims a right to be valid.
    Prices align with a bold tactful system,
    to execute what the Jones’ did.

    If your demented design reflects an ego,
    your survival displays corruption.
    Since a free society is compelled to pay,
    prices push liberty beyond dimension.

    You claim a systematic law–to charge,
    for the cost-of-living is universal.
    Therefore, every poor American citizen
    must pray–for a costly reversal.

    The American dream–once set in stone;
    liberty is the hope that was sought.
    Freedom is not free, when lost in prices;
    going to-and-fro cannot be bought.

    Legally, you accuse!…citizen-compliants
    reflect peasants…with chips to glorify.
    And that people have lost the real dream,
    which money offers an angle to dignify.

    Unqualified, with a large degree of strut,
    citizens fail to realize this costly set.
    Your prices are designed by your genius,
    to wrap-up poverty in a bondage net.

    Lo and behold, if your ego claims validity,
    to corrupt the dreams of all mankind,
    Then, a lose of our liberty is also correct,
    to chip at power–of the legally blind.

    If systematic corruption claims to be valid,
    in building the tower of a wealthy ego,
    Then cold poverty of the masses must cite
    the American right–to come and go.
    [/pay]

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  • Others 25.07.2007 No Comments

    Let’s begin with most everyone on the earth,
    Arousing needs thru the causation of a birth.
    Mother looks upon this existence in her arms;
    Wonderful…he come to be, with such charm.

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    Let’s begin with most everyone on the earth,
    Arousing needs thru the causation of a birth.
    Mother looks upon this existence in her arms;
    Wonderful…he come to be, with such charm.

    Her ears vibrate at the sound of sweet cries,
    Bonding mother and child…with careful ties.
    Desperate, intensity screams from his mouth:
    Feed me now, while living in a shelter house!

    Money isn’t the legend it’s all crack-up to be,
    But the world listens to it’s demand carefully.
    It is a wonderful miracle that feeds the poor;
    Normal humans…don’t want less, but more.

    Money is a marvelous thing, so mean it seems,
    That the goodness it provides…inspires greed.
    Mother’s hungry child hasn’t learned to covet;
    Starving to death is an exalted place above it.

    There is no sound–that can speak for money;
    Just realize, a rich man’s joke is always funny.
    It isn’t a joke: news travels at lightning speed
    To the sounding echoes…when money speaks.

    We have existed long enough to realize God,
    But the quiet sounds He speaks is kinda odd.
    He speaks awesome things–to a baby child;
    Mother, warn him!…that other gods beguile.

    The world has a god which demands respect;
    Feed a child with ears–from this captive net.
    Listen to money–like the sounds of a friend;
    But, worship a living God; endure to the end.
    [/pay]

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  • Others 25.07.2007 No Comments

    Money sends a message of continueous strength;
    Enduring power is the resolve of its gifted length.
    Wealthy minds rule–to subdue a mean condition,
    That society receives shelter in a careful position.

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    Money sends a message of continuous strength;
    Enduring power is the resolve of its gifted length.
    Wealthy minds rule–to subdue a mean condition,
    The society receives shelter in a careful position.

    Speak no curse of a wealthy purse–within a wall,
    For revenge-in-the-wind will carry the voice to all.
    Money demands instant respect–by rich and poor;
    Vocal critics are aptly contained beyond the door.

    Even poor houses require blessings from wealth;
    The world turns–on an axis of economic health.
    Poor conditions may judge powers to be wrong;
    But, riches will charm…through a human throng.

    The pure declaration is accused of false witness,
    For proper judgement smiles…to favor necessities.
    Let’s eat, drink, and be merry–as the world turns;
    Critics have no case-in-point, nor wealth to burn.

    Once rich, always rich!…such a condition–is love;
    It is the blessing of heaven–in the form of a dove.
    The “love of money” is only a curse to the slacker,
    For a world of goodness invites a temporal packer.

    Divinity may disciple the mistakes of a worldly king;
    But, the greater fool lacks the substance of a ring.
    Wisdom may gather from heaven–to right a wrong,
    While a state-of-money sings a beautiful love song.

    Wealth! that rules the world in constant meanness,
    Administer laws to subdue man’s sacred happiness.
    A Holy Battle with this wealth of tyrannical charm,
    Grants a blessed paradox–hearld a National alarm.
    [/pay]

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  • As a hardy young man…of nearly sixteen years,
    “Package boy” leads my formal worklife.
    If again, I begun, there’s nothing I would change.
    There is no wrong!…blocking a thing–right!

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    As a hardy young man…of nearly sixteen years,
    “Package boy” leads my formal worklife.
    If again, I begun, there’s nothing I would change.
    There is no wrong!…blocking a thing–right!

    Experience soon taught me…of “worldly things.”
    Contrary to belief, but, the devil is right.
    “Work!”…is an odd pleasure–a series of “stings.”
    If you don’t believe–me!, ask my wife.

    What a perfect delight–an endeavor of “work.”
    Bringing fresh food to a sheltered home.
    Where the family lives, and plays fun together;
    While a strange “bread winner” eats alone.

    This poem intends…NO disgruntled complaint;
    But rather loosely,…happiness in “the red.”
    In a peculiar twist of fate, “work” is…what it ain’t;
    Digging a congenial “hole” for my bed.

    Now, tell me quickly: Is life OK in “the fast lane?”
    Out there!…where “work” is “getting a head?”
    Then, deny this fact: the harder I seem to “work”,
    The deeper goes…digging a “hole”…in “the red.”

    Every “paycheck”…is a step in the right direction.
    My beloved family unites with “Uncle Sam.”
    The task of “spinning wheels” is a spindle pleasure.
    But now!…somebody please–tell me who I am!!

    One step forward…as ten goes the opposite way.
    Each “paycheck” obviously belongs to another.
    If I work a bit harder, possibly, I could “get ahead.”
    Not!…in moving forward, but in the other.

    It’s not enough…to be “taxed” until I bleed to death;
    Legal robbers take a healthy chunk of bread.
    Of course; I understand! It’s legal to live and to die.
    Now consider: “spinning wheels” in “the red?”

    “Help!!…Help!” Friend or foe, will somebody please!
    There’s a thief robbing me “until I am blind.”
    Oh, never mind. The system assumes their rights.
    Anyway!…what I’m working for–isn’t mine.

    So what!…if I have not. I’ve enjoyed a task of “work.”
    It’s a “labor of love”…to please the life of others.
    However, there is an insignificant thing to consider.
    In this “hole”,…it won’t belong…before I smother.

    Oh well, who cares to notice?!…”Work” is not an issue.
    Life is only a business; nobody’s gentle concern.
    Here’s an obvious “fact of life”: consuming is filled.
    Business is not a love-type…of gratitude to earn.

    Don’t get me wrong! That!…refuses to abide.
    “The red” condition, in a “hole”…is lots of fun.
    Even “spinning wheels” is not so chronically bad.
    But, “broke!”, I must admit…is a “hell-of-a-run.”
    [/pay]

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  • Consensus agree, with a leverage worth of money;
    Distortion creates a bitter sweet edge–with honey.
    Freedom roams, as a victimized subject–in a trap,
    Where power changes the value of our search map.

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    Consensus agree, with a leverage worth of money;
    Distortion creates a bitter sweet edge–with honey.
    Freedom roams, as a victimized subject–in a trap,
    Where power changes the value of our search map.

    Poor birds feed, with a frantic twisting of the tail,
    Watching glib nestlers offer hell on another trail.
    Changing conditions present challenges of reality;
    Scratching pennies for dollars…that steal eternity.

    Set the trap, while the prey is praying for change!
    But pride trips the trap, imposing poor–with pain.
    Headpower…above a tail, says, you’re not a head;
    Commencing to enforce the victim with blood red.

    Business aims to please the production of wisdom,
    Confounding the bird…flying high–in the distance.
    Fowl power determines a monetary force of legal;
    It is not allowed–a sparrow cannot value an eagle.

    Granted, a rise in praise…courses a beautiful offer;
    Change!…is a timid condition, the mighty…confer.
    Witty dollars yell-out: “put in a trap construction!”
    ‘Cause clever appears–hollering for a production.

    Just a word may interfer with the mightiest of birds;
    Trapped eagles have no power…greater than words.
    Eagles merit an influence with a congenial position;
    Overbear, subdue terms equal to a stymie condition.

    Business production sings with an art of bird songs;
    But, a project perception uses the word…all wrong.
    A steady agency takes direction from a flight map;
    Wisely tripping a trip light…to spring the bird trap.
    [/pay]

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  • Unwind a habit…
    on a spool of spending;
    Incessant gain…
    is never ending!

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    Unwind a habit…
    on a spool of spending;
    Incessant gain…
    is never ending!

    Through life’s journey…
    on a spending need;
    Gaining the power…
    to rear a noble breed.

    Such a habit of gain…
    may clutter the soul;
    Until, all is lost…
    and friends turn cold.

    In poverty’s life,
    time breeds a habit;
    By an ominous noose,
    the brave endures it.

    Mortal’s craft unwinds
    a glorious pain;
    Brave souls will break
    the habit of gain.

    Poor nobility,
    where is thy token?
    Oh heaven, receive
    a gain that’s broken.
    [/pay]

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  • As a hardy young man…of nearly sixteen years,
         “Package boy” leads my formal worklife.
    If again, I begun, there’s nothing I would change.
         There is no wrong!…blocking a thing–right!

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    As a hardy young man…of nearly sixteen years,
    “Package boy” leads my formal worklife.
    If again, I begun, there’s nothing I would change.
    There is no wrong!…blocking a thing–right!

    Experience soon taught me…of “worldly things.”
    Contrary to belief, but, the devil is right.
    “Work!”…is an odd pleasure–a series of “stings.”
    If you don’t believe–me!, ask my wife.

    What a perfect delight–an endeavor of “work.”
    Bringing fresh food to a sheltered home.
    Where the family lives, and plays fun together;
    While a strange “bread winner” eats alone.

    This poem intends…NO disgruntled complaint.
    But rather loosely,…happiness in “the red.”
    In a peculiar twist of fate, “work” is…what it ain’t.
    Digging a congenial “hole” for my bed.

    Now, tell me quickly: Is life OK in the “fast lane?”
    Out there!…where “work” is “getting a head?”
    Then, deny this fact: the harder I seem to “work”,
    The deeper goes…digging a “hole”…in “the red.”

    Every “paycheck”…is a step in the right direction.
    My beloved family unites with “Uncle Sam.”
    The task of “spinning wheels” is a spindle pleasure.
    But now!…somebody please, tell me who I am.

    One step forward…as ten goes the opposite way.
    Each “paycheck” obviously belong to another.
    If I work a bit harder, possibly, I could “get ahead.”
    Not!…in going forward,…but in the other.

    It’s not enough…to be “taxed” until I bleed to death;
    Legal robbers take a healthy chunk of bread.
    Of course; I understand! It’s legal to live and to die.
    Now consider: “spinning wheels” in “the red?”

    “Help!…Help!” Friend or foe, will somebody please!
    There’s a thief robbing me “until I am blind.”
    Oh, never mind. The system takes a measure of rights.
    Anyway!…what I’m working for–isn’t mine.

    So what!…if I have not. I’ve enjoyed the task of “work.”
    It’s a “labor of love”…to please the life of others.
    However, there is an insignificant thing to consider.
    In this “hole”…it won’t belong…before I smother.

    Oh well, who cares to notice?!…”Work” is not an issue.
    Life is only a business; nobody’s gentle concern.
    Here’s an obvious “fact of life”: consuming is filled.
    Business is not a love type…of gratitude to earn.

    Don’t get me wrong! That!…refuses to abide.
    “The red” condition, in a “hole”…is lots of fun.
    Even “spinning wheels” is not so chronically bad.
    But, “broke!”, I must admit…is a “hell-of-a-run.”
    [/pay]

    Tags: , ,