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Best Money Poems

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Details | Money Poem | |

Money-God

Trust not in the words: "In God We Trust", printed on currency,
for God and Money should be kept separate,
unless one desires to tempt fate with the Money-God,
tempt fate by not over-turning the money-lenders' tables,
although many might argue how this isn't good for business.

Why not know the value of life,
instead of focusing too hard on the prices of Idols.

People are bleating at the prospect of "God" being removed
from money, arguing that if God is removed from money,
the grazing grounds will become Godless.

Godless? 
With or without the words, 
a Money-God is a God nonetheless.
There is at least one true God, 
whether man-made or not;
an authority of control,
a God of profit margins.
Violence is a profit margin.
Hatred is a profit margin.
Bullets, Amendments, and Death, are all profit margins.

The war being waged upon children, is a profit margin.

If I had been given the chance, 
I would have tried my best to take him out,
morphed the vapours of my remaining hatred into bullets,
or torn him apart with my hands.
To stop innocents from losing their innocence.
There are lines drawn in minds,
that if crossed over, stretch beyond the bristle-board of rehabilitation.
Even Clockwork Orange bleeds into crimson spatters.

When a child survives a massacre,
runs across his school field to find safety from a stranger,
proclaiming to the stranger, "I can't go back to my school, it isn't safe there.
My teacher was killed, I don't have a teacher anymore.
All of my friends are dead."....

....then innocence has been lost, and the Money-God is empowered even more.
Lost innocence spreads like a disease through the minds of global villagers.
Fear breeds fear, breeds control and disintegration of the Stream-Mind.

If I had been given the chance,
I would have fought fire with fire,
fed the beast within, 
taken him apart with a breath of hatred.
Breathed it out, pushed it out, purged it out.

Satan is a scapegoat used by people who are unwilling 
to take accountability for their actions and sacred responsibilities.
The Beast is humanity -
not marked by a fairy-tale Devil,
but instead marked by the Money-God created in the image of man;
recreating the image of man through fear.

Some people might be intrigued by how many definitions of God there are.
Even if money is a necessity,
within our core there should reside a different Kingdom -
without and within, within and without.

If I had been given the chance -- past tense....

....if I am given the chance,
I will try my best to take him out,
smudge him out
with the remaining hatred in my heart.
Breathe it out, push it out, purge it out,

until all that's left is to love,
until all that's left is to love.







December 14th, 2012 - S.H.E.S:  28 - 2 = 26




January 7th, 2013




.

Details | Money Poem | |

POVERTY DEFINES TRUE WEALTH

written 25th Oct 2013


I don't know if human's will ever see
 every soul born, is right where it's meant to be
For the rich to become the richest
 there has to be a place for the poorest

The entire world is built up from the same level of dirt
 each soul is born without knowledge to cause hurt
Humanity teaches us what a human's life is worth, by money and glory
 I am to believe "all lives are priceless, every soul fit's to tell Earth's story

The luckiest to be born, is that of a poor man
 he learn's the treasures, of "everything he can
Those born into all riches, have no true understanding of "richness
 seeing us not as human's, but those living in poverty "as an illness

Love start's from the soul, and from there, it is taught to grow
 the rich find another kind of love, one only brought with dough
Love, trust, compassion and grace, defining the difference in richest and wealth
 t'is the beggar off the street, who climbs the toughest road to earn his wealth 

He is the most blessed man, he is rewarded with the most valuable key
 for his wealth, is humanly "uncountable, for only God know's the value of he...




Details | Money Poem | |

Hey, That's My Money

Well, I see that Congress is proposin' another trillion dollar spree!
Those inept buffoons must think money grows upon a tree!
The treasury is crankin' out bales of twenty-dollar bills,
Doin' their part to cure (and inflate) the nation's many ills!

Funds were 'loaned' to help carmakers, now they're hollerin' fer more!
A ton of dough was 'loaned' to banks, but ain't nobody keepin' score!
Millions was designated to help home foreclosures to abate.
Where has my money gone?  I've seen minimal results to date!

Funds are proposed fer more sand fer the beaches of New Joisey,
And city officials want a water park out west in frigid Boise!
Frenzied lobbyists are scurryin' about fer a portion of the pork,
To build an emergency landin' strip on the Hudson in New York!

Money is probably well-spent fer roads, bridges and agin' sewers,
But spare me the cost of subsidizin' sports arenas and sozzled brewers.
Lack of foresight by the banks and politicians got us in this mess,
Now they cover their boondoggles with my money, nonetheless!

Hordes of politicians gleefully gather at the bottomless trough,
Elbowin' others fer largesse they claim will make us better off.
Is there no end to compensatory spendin' and open-ended lendin'?
Hey!  That's my money you fellers are so very inept at spendin'!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Details | Money Poem | |

Glow worms of the night

I fight my sleep in a drain.
 Oh ! My brain why art thou so vain.
I glow at night when the city sleeps.
To my dears who weep.
Tales aren't glowing at this end.
You lucky to choose the path you trend.
I am a glow worm of the bountiful sky.
I weave silk with my words each night,
Which fades in the darkness of the waving dream.
I wonder the worth of it all.
A vain pursuit, I say.
My soul is in that cave...
Pity! Warm breeze take me away to the morning light.
Let me fly through these strum less clogs of wheel.
Drudgery breeds it's contempt.
Amaya! Shower on me thy calm to tread the brightest star.

-Kullu

(A poem for those who work at night)



Contest:- Any poem under 15lines#2
Sponsored By:- A Poet Destroyer
Place:-    5th

Details | Money Poem | |

POLITICS

                             POLITICS


Propriety demands - we do not speak
Of others, either strong – or weak
Lest in the foray of the quest
Insiders, fall from grace, of safety’s nest
Take residence alongside taloned beast
Intent on making you the winner’s feast
Cloned puppets denying there are strings
Surrendering their truth to cell phone rings.


John G. Lawless
8/26/2014
for Judy Konos
How’s Your Acrostic? contest

Details | Money Poem | |

The Welfare Poem

The welfare poem is not for you
and not enough for anyone.
The welfare poem is very small
and not just given to everyone.

It's not enough to read for long.
It's just a little short.
It's not paid much attention to
and not the longing sort.

With thanks there's those who'll get it.
Those of who deserve it.
It's just some stolen words,
though I would soon forget it.

It's filled with much disgrace.
Those wary as they read.
It may be meant for you
if you accept the need.

I hope you have enjoyed it.
I'll cut you off for now.
But if you want more later
just beg there's more somehow.

Details | Money Poem | |

Just her Luck


She won the lottery and went berzerk,
piled up bills and debts, quit her work.
Then came the letter: a computer glitch;
and her hopes died of ever being rich.
Then that night, stoned, beside herself
she shot herself with her ex’s pistol.
Then came a telegram briefly stating:
Sorry, our mistake, your check is waiting.

Details | Money Poem | |

Yes I Know

Yes I know people are talking
But as for me
I'm just going to keep on walking
Girl gotta do what she needs to do
To survive these streets
Heck and nightmares
Exactly what this lady is living through

Have two
Carrying one
She a pregnant mommy left on her own
All alone
Now what is she gonna do?

Working two jobs
But a few others on the side
A Latina girl with high expectations for her money and herself
When in her small apartment
There's no room for a shelf
To place her achievements
Yeah you better believe it

A wealthy woman with a nice house
And a fresh ride
But she husslin' to make that extra money on the side
Over 100 grand is how much debt she is in
On top of it all
Her husband just died
He commited suicide
Now what is she gonna do?
Now what would you do?
If the federals were coming after you..

Details | Money Poem | |

Hopeless Nomadic Part 3

I’m left perplexed. How vexing, how complex…
the plight of a simple man, (one’s ruin is another’s choosing) is moving and  doing the least that he can, no oil changes no wedding band.
All this just to exist, just to be standing, still living, surviving this life with a pocket knife and all the time that most never venture to find before the last goodbye.
Like the return of high tide you can count on his nothing, nothing to show nothing to hide... a cowboy trailblazing the countryside.
 

Beethoven's eleventh symphony ?keeps the beat of this visceral epiphany.?
No piano key in record history? could serenade away the blue music that drips from the riffs in me.
How is it to be, so utterly free. No paper trail to keep folded neatly, a homeless nomadic home body taking what the rest of us are wasting, catching sickness digging ditches while we dine on delicious richness. 

My intuition becomes twisted and misses the simpleness where my wisdom depicted the abyss, this before my vision was transformed by barely bearing witness to his existence.

Details | Money Poem | |

Community

Community, what does it mean
And how does it come into being
Well what does the dictionary have to say
“A group of people living together in one place”

I guess that means were all in community
Though if I were to speak in honesty
It feels like we try to live separately
 Living by the culture of our country

Which tells us, do it yourself
 If your strong, you don’t ask for help
Life is about personal advancement
About money and accomplishments
Hold onto your hardships and pain
Keep striving for personal gain
So many lies deeply engrained
How will we create change?

Well I start with myself
I ask for help
I start with me
I be the change I want to see

I become an infectious contagion
In all of my relations
That could spread across a population
Even across the nations
 
I model my life after the master of love
Who dwells in the heavens above
He has brought millions even billions together
Over decades, centuries, even millenniums
So what else could be better
Than to faithfully follow him

He who said, I was anointed 
to proclaim good news to the poor
 to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free”

and I say yeah that’s who I want to be
But unless I engage in community
Unless I get to know my fellow human beings
How can I help to set them free

So its time for me to put aside
Popular culture, foolish pride
Social codes, selfish ambitions
Old roads, and useless traditions

And blaze a brand new trail 
With my life, write a new tale
Introduce a new theme
Add in a few more characters
And then dare to dream
About how my story could impact theirs
And their’s impact mine

Because maybe just, maybe
It might be better, might just be
Not to say, I did it on my own
All this, look I did it alone
No maybe it would be better
If we did it together

So that no matter what my lot
I can always know that I’ve got
 Friends, right until the very end 
Help, ready to be sent
Hands willing to be lent
So what need would I have for advancement
For money and accomplishment

I can find all that I need
Everything I seek from this life, 
In relationship with fellow human beings
Community, Maybe this is what it means

Details | Money Poem | |

The Money Tree

Economic woes had struck

She couldn’t feed her children

Purchased a small “Money Tree”

Hoping it would grow





*Entry for Francine’s “Flowers, Trees, Grass or Bees” contest

The "Money Tree" can be found in California.  It’s actually a rather small tree similar 
to a bonsai.  Photo of the Money Tree can be seen at: 
http://www.guzmansgreenhouse.com/money-tree.jpg


Details | Money Poem | |

Money

Money money, ringing in your tills,
Calling us to worship,
The hundred dollar bills.
Bend our knees in wonder,
Bow our heads in awe,
At the power of the liar,
Who now controls us all.
From the darkest deep caverns,
To the stars in the sky,
From the infinite universe,
To the strangers passing by.

From your inner most conviction,
To your laughing in the night,
From everything you 're  seeing,
To everything out of sight.

The new God has risen,
To claim the holy throne,
The one that we have emptied,
Our hearts all cold as stone.

The throne that we have emptied,
We killed the rightful king,
Sold his crown an sceptre,
Pawned his sacred  ring.

Raised his bleeding body,
Up on that bloody hill,
The silent lamb still bleeding,
As the money fills your tills.

Details | Money Poem | |

FISCAL FIASCO

I met someone I know quite well, he gets about in cars, does buy and sell.
He spoke to me upon a theme, we were stirring coffee; I had just added my cream.
When (Fiat) money, he intoned..)
This word does it ring a bell?
Of it have you heard; or known, do tell.?
The cost of Fiat cars I then proclaimed?
No it’s of money I speak,he said if it’s all the same,
I had bought some autos and to me the word was told,
That it is money without collateral backing, that’s the truth stone cold!
So in this stressured contemporary rhyme, I think I must… It’s now high time
In fact a lack of sober views and action which did not ensue...
Control! ….. control!, "well they did not" now high (inflation) pop pop pops..!
Consume, consume they said and greed is good for all..!
Poor old Jim john and Doug..)  Rachel, Joan and Queenie McCall..!
A dream was sold and lives were told, It’s Oh! so safe, more so than gold!
Now Fiat cash is on the scene, they run it off Oh! ream on ream
Just like my coffee encircling mug, so here’s to the truth lets give it a plug.
When I again pour in my cream, 
as it begins to merge like inflations infusion, Maybe I’ll dream.
That financial fiasco’s and social screams are only rumours on a jittery theme,
However until "their problem" has been (sold),  I’ll trade some paper cash for gold.

© Joe Maverick 13-11-2010

Details | Money Poem | |

She means the world to me

I gotta crooked legged woman
With legs that go where they choose
Her lips are shaped like a beer mug
And over flowin with booze 

She means the world to me
And a freak that makes me money 

Her face is like a chocolate chip cookie
Covered in spots dots and all of that
I don't need a road map to find my way around
Just look at her face and I know where I'm at  

She means the world to me
And a freak that makes me money 

She gotta hunch back
From her boobs that sag
They look like two egg yolks 
On two kwik mart bags 

But She means the world to me
And a freak that makes me money

**Singing the Blues**

Details | Money Poem | |

A Dark Man

         This piece is dedicated with love to J.E. Gauthier, Jr. Active addict and father. 
Only by the grace of God may he be saved from the error of his ways.

 For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin
 
 Back then life on the road meant drugs money and women far as the eye could see
 He said he'd never look back 'cuz he was born free
 
 Life grew emptier as he grew older
 The drugs grew heavier as his heart grew colder
 His four children left behind with no place to call home
 From day one they made it in this world alone
 
  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin

 Every few years he'd arrive unannounced offering money and a hug
 All while using the garage to hide his drug
 His spitting image could smell his guilt a mile away
 She rolled her gloomy blue eyes in unison with every false word he had to say

 Today his girls are grown raising girls of thier own
 December came and went
 February turned to Lent
 On a stormy midnight he still turns to his blue eyed spitting image
 As the clouds clear she is again lost in the scrimmage

 She lies awake with a bottle of wine in hand
 On her mind weighs a dark man
 His ways make him lonely and lost
 Yet to her death she will fight for him at all costs

  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin

Details | Money Poem | |

This grinds my gears

Do you know what grinds my gears?
Its been building in me for a few years.
People driving and texting, just letting their mind linger.
They almost hit me, then cut me off, then give me the finger. 

Then the teacher tells everyone not to text during class.
She starts lecturing and all heads go down like a ceremony at mass.
They all just sit there and talk and text away, 
or just sit there and get frustrated at the games they play.

Another thing that gets under my skin and must go,
is when people talk to me, using phrases and words I don't know.
For Example, my friend spent some bones on a whip and got a bucket.
What? Is everyone all right?  What happened?  He explained it.

What that means is he spent money (bones) on a car (whip), 
and its a piece of crap (bucket), and it won't last on a long trip. 
Another is: I got a trick that we can flip and make some mad.
I'm not sure what he said, but I could end up in the most wanted ad.

Then he explains, he saw a nice car (trick), that we can buy and sell (flip), 
and make a lot of money (mad). So a bucket is a trick and trick is whip?
Why can't you just say car?  Because it sounds cool and you know it.
You sound like an idiot and I can't even understand you and I'm a poet. 

I don't get why this world has to be so frustrating and get in my head.
He's gonna skeet and drop it til then, so I have to figure out what he just said.  

**For Natalie Fllikkema's contest “What annoys you”?

Details | Money Poem | |

Thoughts Before Bed

the past is haunting me
I just want to be free

there doesn’t seem to be an escape
and success have never took shape

is this my destiny 
hardly any money

money isn’t God
I may have been flawed

but I’m one hundred percent pure
I believe in this life for sure

Details | Money Poem | |

Miser

Miser

There was an old Scotsman named Bill,
who left himself heir of his will.
He saved all his life,
was missed by his wife,
she gave him a cheque as goodwill.

25.03.14

Details | Money Poem | |

Tige

(Circa 1910) Grandpa had a bulldog whose name was Tige. They were close – as close as honey and bees. If Grandpa felt a cold comin’ on – Well Ol’ Tige was the one who would sneeze Grandpa was noted for his wealth and generosity. His love for me was demonstrated when he paid my college fees. The love he held for Tige was almost the same for me. And ol’ Tige was always with Grandpa wherever he might be. College life was different then, separation was the norm. And years at Alma Mater meant years far from the farm. Students have it difficult and allowances soon shrink So, short of money there, I soon began to think. Grandpa, bless his giving heart, quickly came to mind That bulldog owned his generous heart – if somehow I could find Some way to convince my grandpa to increase the money sent -- I came upon a devious plan – and this is how it went. I wrote and told my grandpa, “There’s things you ought to know. The things they’re doin’ here at school will set your heart aglow.” “They’re takin’ all these sorts of dogs – it came as quite a shock Grandpa, you won’t believe me, they’re teachin’ dogs to talk.” Now grandpa loved ol’ Tige so much it didn’t take him long To ask how much would it take to send ol’ Tige along? Well, when I gave a figure, Grandpa was satisfied If this crazy scheme was figured out, there’s no place I could hide. I kept feeding grandpa all sorts of good reports How Tige was a star pupil and mascot of all sports Two years passed and soon there came the time to take Tige home Grandpa was so excited -- Tige was never more to roam. Grandpa came runnin’ when I stepped down off the train. His eager eyes were searching for what he’d never see again. “Where’s ol’ Tige?” he asked, as we began to walk. “He’s not comin’.” I replied, “C’mon we need to talk.” This morning I was shaving in the bathroom by the sink And Tige was justa talkin’ when he looked at me and winked. “Ya know’ he said, “I’ll be so glad to be back home at last.” There are some things I’ve thought about that went on in the past.” “I was standin’ at the mirror with my razor in my hand Ol’ Tige was talkin’ ‘bout some things he couldn’t understand. I could not believe the lies he told – things he’d seen first hand Like the times he saw you wrestlin’ with that female hired hand.” His words just lit a fire with the pictures that he painted I almost couldn’t help myself – Grandpa, I nearly fainted. It seems that I lost it some and when I finally woke, I’d grabbed him by the backa his neck and cut his lyin’ throat. I know grandpa was shaken, I saw it in his eyes. A look of consternation he could not disguise He seemed to be relieved, as he looked at me and said, “Now, Son, I really need to know, are you sure ol’ Tige is dead?” Years have hidden the truth of this deception that I wrought. I’m the one who wove deceptive tales that everybody bought. But when the truth is told at last and no more lies are found You’ll gladly find an ending that surely will astound. Grandpa? -- He now lives with Jesus, and me? -- I’m headed there. Tige? – I know he’s still around though I shouldn’t tell you where. We made a pact some years ago when things went awfully bad. For years he’s been the best darn mascot my school ever had.

Details | Money Poem | |

Christmas Carols

Trevor, Wendy and Sheila they all lived next door
Then there was me and that made us four
We all sang in St Peters church choir in my village home
On Christmas Eve we sang carols as round the village we would roam

We sang at every door in the village on that night
Wishing all a merry Christmas as they turned on their porch light
We sang the entire carol every single verse
Though sometimes the snow would just get worse and worse

All the money that we raised went to Overley Hall
To help keep the place open a benefit to all
Our last carol of the night was always at the York’s
He and his missus couldn’t they half talk

She would play piano and we would sing along
He would sit by fireside joining in the song
After we had finished they showed us to the door
With cake and fruit and a donation even though they might be poor

They had no children of their own so enjoyed our carol singing
We always left with words of thanks and exaltations ringing
We would find our way home it would be after ten
We used to count the money gat ourselves warm and then

They would go home back to the house next door
I would go up to my room and sleep deep that for sure
We would get up the next day and Christmas day was there
Yet Christmas Eve and carol singing was great for us to share 

Details | Money Poem | |

I'VE SEEN ANGELS

It was in the big city of glitz and glamour
That I saw Angels in daytime before
I was put to the test nothing more
money dropped girl ignore

My reaction was quick fast to the draw
Call out to her...hey!
Your money on the street floor
With one quick glance two tall men I saw
Standing with stare, silence and no murmur

Seem like no one else notice them
But me, with splendor I adore
She turned around said thank you
Took her money off the pavement floor

I fixed my eyes on those men-like Angels
That no one else saw
Continue my Journey, and in the distance
When I looked around the huge men was no more

Yes I've seen Angels.


©Copyright October 11, 2006 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Money Poem | |

Five Minutes Effort

Computer genarated is my middle name
Doesn't really matter, when you got fortune and fame
I had standards once, it left while the money came
The names have been changed, but it's all the same
La la la on every station
Thoughtless singers through out the nation
Only hear real words on special occasion
All that really matters is the radio vibration
Bars of ivory are now plastic
Our true potential has been wasted
Learn to lip sync, dance dirty, and lose it
C'mon don't ya know anything 'bout music?
Yeah I know the new stuff was sh*t
It was also a top 40 hit
No need for a conscience or wit
All you need is chocolate skin and an auto-tune kit
Got a little bit heavy with that line
But who cares man, it rhymed!
When you're this big nothing's a crime
Smoking wads of cash, all I got is time
Brings a whole new meaning to money to burn
Pretend I'm your teacher for a sec, take a seat and learn
Where I come from borrowed is earned
We sleep to the poetry of the streets
Where they talk about girls like they're tasty meat
Bangin' on your doors, we're the farthest from discreet
Ring the bell in the night, with masks on, trick or treat
But look, now we famous, kissing babies, they think we sweet
Cry us a river cause our lives are SO hard
Barely even know where to start
Our lyrics come from inside the heart
They're wanting out cause it's cold and dark
Takes real skill to do what I do
Convincing all these lies to be true
They gave me the check so I followed through
I'm too deep in it to just undo
A moment in the studio is called work
Got a sore throat, my vocals hurt
Our next track is gonna sound so absurd
But I bet it'll make it big cause it's rap
The result of five minutes effort



NOTE: I don't normally swear when I write (or even in real life). However I felt it necessary to help get my message across. Also I wanted to challenge myself doing a rap/freestyle.

Details | Money Poem | |

Delilah's Story- Part II

PLEASE DO NOT READ PART II BEFORE YOU HAVE READ PART I! THANK YOU! :)

She had been a modest woman
Had so desired a family
But that was all in the past now
And Samson was no guarantee

In the morning he would leave her
With his voice playing in her mind
No, she needed to secure life
“Delilah, don’t you be so blind!”

In the morning she stood beside him
Dressed in seductive finery
In the other room they waited
To see if Samson was history

“Samson, your enemies surround you”
He just smiled and patted the bed
“Come, let me take you to heaven”
Then he reached up and touched his head

Would she ever forget that moment
When he gave her a betrayed look
Tears did slip down as they bound him
Her man and all her dreams they took

She heard that he had been blinded
They had gouged out her man’s green eyes
All the money that she had gained
Was tainted red with crimson lies

There was a great celebration
Through her veil she saw Samson there
No longer lion but a lamb
All she could do was gawk and stare

They placed him in between pillars
Of the temple to their “strong” god
They kicked and spat and they hit him
They treated him worse than a dog

She rushed passed them in a minute
“It’s Delilah,” murmured the crowd
For her flowing veil had fallen 
How she wished now it were her shroud

She gently touched his haggard face
And he smiled a sad knowing smile
“Your beauty I can’t see, my love
But I’ve waited for you all this while.”

She sobbed, “I tried to buy you back
With much more money than they gave 
I’m sorry, dearly beloved
Please, be strong now and do be brave.”

“Leave me now,” was his coarse command
“My kind God will still set me free
I’ll bring this place down on their heads
Delilah, please just let me be.”

“My lover….my eternal love”
On her breasts she now lay his head
“Pull down this building forever
I’ll lie with you in our death bed”

How the story ends is well known
Samson was given strength once more
That strength stolen by a woman
Delilah, whom his did adore!

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Details | Money Poem | |

Be Happy

*
To 
be
happy
you don't need
necklaces of gold
or all the money in the world,
what you do need though, is Love,Trust, and understanding
those are the things, that can't be bought with all the money in the world
or fifteen tons of gold.
What you can get to be happy is, Friendship,Husbands,Wives,Children,Grand
children, that is love,trust,understanding,a life of morality, GOD!






  WoW thta was tough!

Details | Money Poem | |

Prepare For Rainy Days

When you realize it, nothing is funny. Not every day in the business world is sunny. Stormy weather comes when the barometer falls. There can be gale force winds to knock down walls. For days like this, stash some cash away. Have money available for a rainy day. Inspired by another member's poem