Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.
Enter Title (Not Required)
Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Snake bankers say, “I am doing the work of God.” Dreaded delusional thinking Drowning righteousness and justice The work of God is not for them to know Unknowingly they plan their own destruction Great wicked vampires who suck out money From every human and earthly source For their special sauce bottled with rampant greed Made in the Wall Street rat cellar kitchens Buried deep under the City of Death Founded by the empty mindless tribes Still stinking of centuries of unsatisfied poverty Whose lizard brains shuffle cash continuously And people are seen only as THEIR money Where everyone drinks a Satanic brew Made by a single mother of 40 Who wanted to be a concert violinist But now stirs sauce smiling stupidly in the rat kitchens Where human disasters are considered treasures And instead of music, money now runs in her veins And she knows where every penny is lodged Where the only sound she ever hears now Is the snap of festering banknotes In the mindless mad heartless pit of villainy Where the rat-tat-tat soggy bank instruments sit By the big thugs who once had big brains now gone bad Picking apart whatever strand of harmony that once existed. Brutal beasts nourished on Satan’s nippled t.ts Goons made to kill by Wall Street witches’ clever tricks Not clubbing baby seals in the basement But fresh melodies made for lullabies by angels Now cut up into dissent chunks for stew By the money addicts directing the kitchen’s brew While donkeys driven by carrot scented whips of cash Haul in with brain deadening music of depraved minds the trash Moulded into regimental rows of selfless meatballs Defiled and self-mutilating masochists Flushed down into the trash bin to be shredded By the money machine with its killer appetite Churning and churning night after night In the shadows of its infinite emptiness Blackened noise trying to keep death away. There is no end to it.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)