"Made In China"
They can have my money
If it saves me money
The toys I played with when I was young,
Says I enjoyed their hands
The Labels read
"MADE IN CHINA"
The cheap material on my back, the shoes I wore.
How easily they faded and tore
However, I enjoyed their hands
The Tags on my rags;
"MADE IN CHINA"
The car I own saves money on gas
A tiny Honda Civic, takes me everywhere
I love my sweet silver car
"Manufactured in China"
The never been used--Made in the USA--cookware I own,
Says, I don't work hard at all:)
Yummy to Chinese all you can eat take Outs
Thank you China for being part of this world
Thank you China, for making this world a part of yours.
MADE IN CHINA
Shipped easily in a box
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013
Sitting in a cloak of black conservatism:
I feel my hands,
oily on the desk like shortening in
slate gray cookie pans,
the speedway inside forcing the absence of
And my thoughts,
so flippant to implore
if a man with a chartreuse neck tie
can see the long wet streaks
across the cherry plane.
a sequence of interrogatives
common to the bored walls
of serious conference,
evoking tone inflection
in the pattern of polite.
Darest I mention truth?
I am your whore;
infect me with smug integrity,
smack me with false prophet leadership,
just leave some crisp bills
on the nightstand, sugar.
Yet my voice models his wavelength,
relaying back the catchy tired language
of one hit wonders;
from the man who owns a chartreuse tie.
awards a loaf of Wonder bread,
and a two bedroom lower.
Copyright © Michele Nold-Godleske | Year Posted 2006
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
She knew this
was going to happen
Mr psychopath is rapping
With his crazy beats in timing
Singing: She's so freaky
You must believe me
I'll spread my message
They better get it
Tearing apart logic
His tempo is lethargic
Smearing the writing
of her time in shining
But those who know her best
Laugh at him in jest
They know her worth
No need for a test
When asked if she's crazy
They evade the question
Thinking to themselves
We are above this business
of railroading the gifted
So take your props and stage
in the singing of your rage
Copyright © Holly Bohto | Year Posted 2016
This life has been but a carnival
Ride within many ways its circus
Amid silent reels; crimson hues...
Surreal it would seem if it were
Yet only a dream; these scenes
Of looney tooney and howdy duty
At, the seaside spaghetti house...
..."Red Roses and Wine"
Copyright © sarah seraphin | Year Posted 2011
THE CITY AND THE STATE OF PLAY TODAY
No one worries about morals today
They follow the rules they create
So to them all is ok
Those on the outside looking in
Are the only ones feeling queasy
As avarice and selfishness triumphs
Good corporate citizens they claim to be
Industry awards abound on their walls
As thank you tokens from themselves
Yet society harbours a lot of ill-will
As it feels the often brute force of
And destroy mentality
Of people only wishing to make money
Any which way
While Using up all of society’s communal resources
The waters are forever bloody as they
Know no fraternity and would gladly
Cannibalize anyone with no influence
The ability to upend competitors
A cherished characteristic
In a bullish machismo drenched environment
Bullet proof psyches
Absorb and repel any pangs
Blocking any regulatory or chattering classes’
Attempt at nirvana and equality
They employ better paid lobbyist
So always have the upper hand
In influencing policy
The gravitational attraction of money
Towards another even bigger pot of money
Numbs any cautionary instinct
That would take a long term view
The thrill of instant riches
Overpowers common sense
And even decency
Fat cats they all wish to be
The slickness of glossy tongued lobbyist
Who spin wrongs till they become rights
Embolden oestrogen low males with no inbuilt brakes
To take risks that eventually cost them disgrace
They are champions of graft not of society
Loopholes in legislation
That were built in by too friendly politicians
Coupled with ambiguous suits and claims
Cause far reaching hardship when the good old days are long gone
The villains only muster some phantom national pride
When begging for a lighter sentence
Some are forgiven
Others fatally wounded by an unforgiving public
Lots of money can be made both legally and illegally
As one racket is closed another materialises instantly
The conveyor belt of dishonesty
Who is not David to the goliath that is money
The ethos is wealth
The acquisition and the maintaining of gains
Not often acquired through hard work
There is no limit of acceptable financial comfort
For the millionaire always wants to be a billionaire
And the mega rich super rich
Money must always be hidden from the taxman
Shareholders want tax free dividends
Investors want tax breaks for buying with other people’s money
Infrastructure and new runways must be built
But not from the pocket of those who wish it
With their hands outstretched
And always wanting more and more
From a government too eager to please
We have a tax system geared to the advantage of party donors
And non-domiciled moguls and tycoons
Who know no philanthropy unless it is tax efficient
Disadvantaging society by
Never paying their fair and moral share
The largess they reap so selfishly
They wish not to share
Wages are low
Taxes are nil
Only the investor wins as we pay his bills
Fast paced expansionist dogma
Is preached within city limits
Only the highest paid
The biggest company
The greatest profits
They are held up as ideals that all who
Wish to succeed must follow
Gunslingers they all appear to be
Rushing in to capitalize on the wanton success of their peers
The cloud of misery left behind
Is never seen for the look forward
Hindsight is never welcomed in this parasitic environment
The political will to weed out these reckless demons
Is lukewarm at best
The revolving door of government creating opportunities
For industry and industry gratefully accepting politicians post government
Ensures that self-interest is king
An economy built on flawed assumptions of wealth creation
Is one that must forever be in hyper-drive
Creating ever expanding demand and supply
That is as real as a thief’s conscience
When taking the rings off a dead persons fingers
Money must always be made for
There is no alternative
Wealth is good
Poverty to them is laziness
The city is not the heart and soul
Of the nation
It is but one player in a system skewed in its favour
We all must share in the wealth of this country
To ensure its longevity
Copyright © evrod samuel | Year Posted 2013
While bulldozers, drunk with gasoline
Have once again scared and maimed
Where once grew trees and meadows free
Is now an earth, encased by concrete seas
Engines roar, to drown our ears in echoed glee
Where ghosts of children played their summer games
Forced to leave their childhood memories
In trenched out holes, and broken trees
The big top guns...ravage earth, then run
Dinosaurs that raise their iron heads
Jaws dripping with loads of earth and grass
As gophers rampaging through halls, bereft
are forcing nature's giants to their knees
Place by place destruction of the land
And while the green world grandfathers knew
Is gone in days, with every oak that falls
When this new invading presense is someday done
Has had his fill of dollar bills, then abandons one and all..
Who will mourn, who will recall?
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010
Temperature's hovering at 103
Very much too hot for me,
A/C busted, that's
plain to see...
What can I do, let's see....
Stuck in the middle,
The owners just piddle
All I need is a sad fiddle
To accompany my misery
I didn't break it, this I swear,
And should some say so
They'd better take care,
I have my Panzer grenadieres
On full alert,
And it won't be waterguns
That they will squirt
So get a fan, take a cold bath,
Sleep on your patio,
Don't incur my wrath
Take a chill pill.....
Take two or three,
We'll get it fixed,
This I will see...
Not fun being the manager
Responsibility for everything,
Authority to do nothing,
Frustrations build quick,
Can make one quite sick
But, this too shall pass,
Another challenge will
take it's place
Cause this just is an
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008
I was thinking today
That in itself
Is a very scary thought
About all the people who
Through our lives
Some of these people
Without any doubt
Are just people we want something from
People who want something from us
And once that need is gone
So are they
Then there are other people
That we know forever
But wish we had never met
And lets not forget
The ones we only met once
Wish we would know forever
But never see again
Well this isn’t about any of them
This is about
We loved and lost
But never should have
Please know that the love I’m speaking of is friendship
Our friends define who we are
More than anything else
My best friend and I
In now on 15 years
In all honesty
That is my fault
It is also one of the worse mistakes
That I ever made
I was so hurt
The hurt brought anger
The anger brought action
And it all happened so fast
Soon as I did it, I felt so ashamed
I think his father could see that in my eyes
The whole family was a part of my heart
Dennis was my best friend
Judy was my girlfriend
Kristin, Jeffery & Haley were my step-kids
Dale was my younger brother
Jack & Joy were Mom & Dad
We had all known each other
Since I was knee high
I learned a valuable lesson that day
I learned that no matter how strong love is
How many years of foundation it may have
Addiction will destroy it
--- It’s the nature of the business ---
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
It is the business of storms to have eyes, yet blind
They are drunk with Neptune’s wine
And reek of catastrophe.
For no memories they no longer pine,
And brew instead what stirred Lethe;
That which is considered a Shakespearian find –
Tempest hoarding in a cup of tea.
Copyright © Manuel Abis | Year Posted 2017
Bad bosses wear the same clothes every day
Some of them are called Bob or Bill or Kathy
They smell funny and cry for mommy
Never shake hands with them
You don’t know where their thumbs have been
Bad bosses hate employees who want wages
They kick their dogs and friends
Legends in their minds; they beat their wives
My boss is six feet tall
All of it is penis
Bosses look me up and down
Waiting for me to turn around
They want me to bend over and crack a smile
There must be a factory somewhere out there
That manufactures these freaks of nature
Vaseline does not come with the pay check
When they are done with me
I don’t even get a kiss or cigarette
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015
A subject of sweetest softness
Cats can be loved too
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
I'm worried where the next dollar will come from.
Will she ever arrive?
Will she ever show up?
But why am I worrying?
It's all in God's Great Hands!
It's all under God's control!
It's all within His plans!
It's all His
And He will provide
Because He is our Father!
He loves us!
It's all His!
I know it's difficult;
He will not lead you wrong.
He knows where you need to go.
He knows what you need to endure.
It's all His plan.
It's all in His Hands!
Lay down your life;
Give the control.
He is in control!
Thank You Father!
It will all be okay!
Thank You God!
Thank You Jesus!
Thank You Holy Spirit!
I love You always!
I trust You always!
I trust You!
I trust You!
Yes, yes I do!
I trust You!
I love You!
Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013
(Show me the funny, part two)
Are you a Lesbian?
Did you major in the art of female anatomy and minor in multiple orgasms?
Do you know all seven erogenous zones like the back of your hand?
Then you may qualify as a Vagenius!
But don't get too cocky now
Just because you studied doesn't mean you'll do well on the test.
I've met so many people who can talk game but can't deliver.
I can't tell you how many times I've had to fake it just so I could finish the dishes instead.
Throw some moves at me!
Take my clothes off with your teeth.
Turn me the **** on!
Now you may be thinking that you can pass the test but please hold your horses because I've only met one Vagenius in my life. (Point to yourself)
I'm not going to go to the Adam and Eve store just so you can grunt loud and thrust hard while I don't feel a thing, I'll save the crotchless panties and lingerie for my vibrator.
And no you can't use a cock ring so that you'll have more time to try to make me cum.
And please don't get all sentimental and touchy feely about it. This is a test, you’re not trying to convince me to be your girlfriend. Save the kisses for the wife.
So come into my bed and I'll tell you if you’re a true Vagenius.
Copyright © Katie Pukash | Year Posted 2013
A maze of tall ascending fingers pierce the sky
Prominent and conceived as seeds
In someone's fertile mind
Crowded together packed in vertical line
That overshadow the pavement below.
Temples of finance and commerce
Amassed in concrete and reflective glass
As tiny moving dots like ants scurry and hurry below
Metal boxes of all shapes and colours
In the city like a river stop and flow.
A array of stores billboards and eye catching signs
Forming linear line
The pavement wet with rain makes them shine.
The hustle and bustle of traffic
Horns And police sirens make a awful din
But just normal and ignored by the residents and crowds
That tread the pavement and reside within
The collage of busy hectic city life
For the lucky and affluent a shoppers paradise
But for the homeless sleeping rough
On the cold concrete
Life is tough.
Peter Dome.Copyright.2015. May.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2015
I am out here on the strip.
Making men look at how I sway my hips.
I know many are in search of a relief (with)
No significant relationship in the mix.
I have to take care of myself.
I am not just a piece ass out here.
Many I let pass by.
I am looking for the right guy,
In that I have a certain success rate on how I get paid.
The ones with the wife are always the smooth operators.
I am not just a piece ass out here.
I am captivation of my existence.
Respite I felt, but then he stops to ask me was I available.
I said yes and asked what did he have planned.
His reply was a good time.
I smiled and these were my lines.
I am not just out here as a piece ass.
I have to care for self.
Let’s go to my bordello to fulfill the rest.
This is my startup business.
Now, what's your name...
Written December 21, 2015!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015
She is a Battle Babe
make you mouth her as a FAV. ,
all her work an automatic save, a rage'n rave,
getcha cravin the ultimate poetic shave
makin demons a quick grave and enticin angels to misbehave,
She's a Battle Babe, no chance her style fades, she got genius in spades,
covert clout leavin you shamed with sheer doubt, livin to learn her upshot ways,
offend ya with a biting wit, pen ya witha whip whetted on the blood of your best days,
love ya like a lionized legionare, waste ya like a puny prisoner pinned against her spiked legs,
wicked wrath and affectionate genuflection the perfection of the Battle Babe's barbarous pathways,
the Patron Poetess of the Lady Ink Crew not fearin you, not hatin you,
she's just beatin every ounce of you
You say she's crazy, lazy and hastey
some sort of Prima Donna in distress lost in lunacy pastey,
but this is simply a rumor reflected from your own filthy and phony majesty,
she prepares for battle settled and seasoned
like a lioness in love with the last hour of hunger
quiet and confident, instincts infallible in Society's saddistic scramble,
pupils green aglow, piercing the pale lies of this business' infatuation with profit's ramble,
the salt of twilight stings her senses, your stunted reaction she will savor
thoughts of your company falling from her K-9's kill of what was once friendship once reasoned,
she will annihilate facts in the false traffic of your tabulated fantasy,
she will destroy you for assuming truth in sunshine made from touted travesty -
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014
Monkeys were never us;
our entrance is more than theory.
I came standing erect and complete.
The dust was to indulge (except of the tree)
in the place provided, where the voice walked
in the cool of the day.
Leopards and lambs,
like Puppy Yellow
and the calico moving balls of yarn;
the fallen, like a snake,
wooed the woman that queried
and she went away towing her husband.
I am out of character, image,
likeness of the Divine
whose flood sculpted mountains and isles,
there, dividing men
and painted them
in new colors with freezing fingers.
Sasquatch, your blurred trace,
speaks loud of the instrument now used.
Of me Ibrahim was assured.
The pyramids are mathematics the God teaches;
their wisdom raised the boulders
(the two Gods that share the Spirit).
I mosey through a sea to be here;
this point where they are history?
Monkeys were never us. If so,
who limits the fruition? I still see them
I am Enoch walking with him,
lodging far afield the daughters of men.
I occur with an enormous bang
far superior to a hypothesis.
Copyright © Earle Brown | Year Posted 2011
Reflections of imperfections
have shown me a way
that I can move mountains
through my power of faith
even though I can't see him
I know he is real
through the power of prayer
and a Love that I feel
It's growing inside me
like a flower in bloom
shall I reveal my powers
or is it too soon
I am reading the signs
through my darkness I find
a reason for belief in
the light of mankind
that I know shall overcome
the greatest of odds
the Love I seek amazes me
especially through the flaws
because now I am inspired
through the hero's that bring
my throne through the darkness
on which I return on as your King.
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013
Who controls our banking?
Ruinous fees for money lending.
Who questions their investing?
Why so dear for money lending?
Who does profit from accounting?
Our finances they're controlling,
While our economy they're ruining,
They're amassing fortunes pecuniary,
Big business for them, commercially.
Let's questions their accountability
For our faceless Australian economy,
Profits overseas they're sending---
So much for Australian banking!!!!!!
Copyright © Julie Grenness | Year Posted 2016
The Noose is tightening.
The 5’s and 10’s yanked from our hands and aching backs
Are spent on band-aids:
A last stand effort to plug the holes in our hearts
When the price of drowning is only getting higher
So we turn to tiny acts of thievery
Taxes prettied up, cashiers uncorrected,
Stealing at the edges because we’re backed into corners,
Glittering with promises corners
Dripping with possibility,
With Island resort wallpaper
Sold in bulk at Wal-Mart for
Profit: A trail of crumbs called America-
Which has curdled our souls and we love it!
And hate it and gossip about it and think obsessively about it and then
We find the most expensive friends our looks can afford,
Shopping for substance (50% off)
Staring through the eye of a screen
Light speed in pursuit of heaven on earth (Ignore the plastic)-
We die of ADHD.
Never having had the chance to smell the genetically modified roses.
Never having had the chance to see through this kingdom of ideas
As we served out our sentence to life in cubicle.
Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt | Year Posted 2013
Time for tea
Opening the tea box
Fingers sink into the peach flavor
The light on the electric kettle flickers
Pouring the hot water in a crystal cup
The tea bag ready to dive
Time to infuse the aroma
Waiting for the tea to brew
The cup is taken
Blissful unity to be sipped
The drip into the mouth
Awakens the senses
Back to another day of finances
Copyright © Bhavna khemlani | Year Posted 2013
The butterfly flutters by—
It’s the symbol of our Company.
That logo’s on my bus so high,
Where clients ride so comfortably.
That noted fluttering butterfly
Is a noble Pacific Monarch;
You can sometimes see it cruising by
The Monterey Peninsula, light or dark.
You’ll see my bus parked by fine hotels,
Classy wineries, the Monterey Aquarium,
Beneath the Carmel Mission bells,
Or in Pebble for the A. T. and T. Pro-Am.
The butterfly flutters by—
And in case you didn’t know it,
The driver that waves as he flies by
Also happens to be this poet.*
*The driver has been working part time since 2007 for
Pacific Monarch Ltd., which is headquartered in Marina,
California. The buses are navy blue with a white butterfly
logo. The author has written many songs and poems
while waiting in his bus between runs.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
Safe, protected, free, just, wealthy.
"You're safe in America."
"Our government will protect you."
"We have the most just system in the world."
"America is the wealthiest nation."
Welcome to the United States,
where safety is police brutality against
our own citizens; where the food we
eat is pumped full of poison; where
our guns are taken from us to keep us
"safe", when the enemy is on the home front.
Welcome to the Land of the Brave,
where men and women lose their lives
over another nation's resource, even though we've
got the technology to keep them home; where
a man turning into a woman is more
important than hundreds dying in an earthquake.
Welcome to the Land of the Free,
where free will and creativity is
frowned upon and conformity is the
latest trend; where its citizen's opinions
go straight to the garbage while those
already in power continue making decisions.
Come on over to the USA,
where child molesters serve less time
in prison than those caught with a plant;
where you can be arrested simply because
your skin is a different tone; where a mother that
killed her child got away with a slap on the wrist.
Make a trip to the wealthiest nation,
where one percent of the population holds
every cent, while homelessness is at an
all time high; where religion means no
taxes, and it costs an entire years pay
just to afford a higher education.
Make your way to the Land of the Corrupt,
where the War on Terror is a scam,
and our nation's biggest tragedy was a planned attack;
where the poor are forced to pay taxes with
money they don't have, while the wealthy
gloat in flashy suits and Mercedes Benz.
Don't eat anymore out of their greedy hands.
Take your freedom back.
House our homeless.
Block out the media, it's an illusion.
Stop fighting for a country that wants you to die.
It's time to make a change.
Copyright © Morgan Richards | Year Posted 2015
It is mid-week again,
and the incremental fines
imposed upon the clock
toll as a bell ringing down.
There is slippage in these transactions
that cannot be undone,
while yesterdays glories
are traded for tomorrow's guilt.
The markets tick along
accumulating matter and wealth.
The traders eat it up
then spew it from their faces.
Traffic is turning corners down the way
avoiding vicissitudes and man-hole covers.
They flirt with fate
Like a time machine gone awry.
Some sad story on the news
is blinking back a gush of tears.
Some will live; some will die,
But all go hungry for a lie.
Copyright © Bill Yates | Year Posted 2015
You lead a luxurious life, superior finance allows you to have a sense of grandiosity, people of a lower stature seem to fit the perfect mold for the term irrelevant,
but soon your wealth leads to vulnerability, standards become everything and the simple things in life no longer trigger your excitement,
so you begin to question your sobriety, maybe that is the answer,
little do you know dependency can be worse than cancer,
so you start off on the bottle, but that only provokes..
you to try something more potent, now your spending habits are more ubiquitous and basically you're poor..
but this all could have been avoided if you kept the attitude of the girl Next Door..
Copyright © Jesse Pickens | Year Posted 2014
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.
21 February 2013
Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013
Ossenburger, the business genius,
when he graduated from college,
he started a budget mortuary service.
Five dollars a corpse!
He was the Wal-Mart of death.
Burry ‘em, burn ‘em, float ‘em down the river,
get ‘em by the gross like a bag-o-chicken wings.
Bodies stacked like cord wood rotting beneath an eve,
he had a secret process for sorting, storing, and disposal.
He hoarded the cadavers like a squirrel hoards its nuts,
buried and forgotten,
never wondering where they’ll pop up.
Dough rolling in from all the strapped families,
Ossenburger was the drug lord of putrefied flesh.
While puddles of fat caramelized within the soil,
he donated excess funds to his fondly held private school.
He wrote off all his charity,
he hoarded up the dough,
with more babies born daily,
he kept profits up with our death toll.
Pencey held him in architectural esteem.
For all his generosity
they used his name
for their new wing.
Tell us Ossenburger about your fancy car,
how you dream of stiffs between each shift
and Jesus ignores our prayers to say how lucky you are.
Our only bit of justice, some smidge,
some smear of slight relief,
is hearing Marsalla’s flatulence
during your puffed up prep school speech.
Copyright © Graphite Drug | Year Posted 2017
It is always after days like this one,
of a kind of proverbial snake chasing
its tail, its form flawless, its strength in
numbers of its friends all rolling together
carrying me to the end of a long day,
the end being where I started, just as
dark, my breath as clear on the concrete
platform as it was twelve hours before,
my insides still a Colombian neck tie.
But I am still one hour and at least two
languages away from there, here in the
bar car, my head against the stretch window
as the Norman countryside smears by at
200 kph, a drop of casis stirring towards a
mandarin horizon fuller than my plastic cup of scotch,
tilting with each banking of the train only to
level out sharply seconds later, the minimum
time required - I suspect - for the stubbly
driver to refresh his senses with a good chuckle,
which would surely be more
frequent if they let me ride up there with him,
playing "I Spy" with our eyes closed,
testing the emergency brake and
scaring cars at crossings with the horn.
Copyright © Darryl Davis | Year Posted 2012
Winning Is Everything
I pace the floors frantically in anticipation for my reward
I know my contest poem is perfect! Perfect you hear me! Perfect!
“NA” is the response I get so I clap my hands and then collapse
Left for hours, weeks and months in my puddle of tears
And I’m not paranoid or worried for a minute, no anxiety, no sir
I told my tick, my twitching eye, my monsters in the dark
Please hold me monsters, hold me to your heart!
Forgive me for doubting your existence
I will never leave you again or the spies on my balcony
They need new equipment and binoculars you see
To see me clearly and my soiled soul
It is a little dirty at this time
I have (NA) on my mind
Maybe next time I’ll rhyme a little better in my poem
And the spirits of poetry will nurture me
With the Soup of truth
If I even get an “HM” I won’t have to cry or die or pay my spies
(They are becoming a liability)
At least I tried
So I rowed on down the river of tears
The river of my misery for years
With my “NA” by my side.... maybe next time
Created on 12/22/14 for “The Contest”- Poetry Contest - Sponsored by Jerry Curtis
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014