The way I see it
~ AOC and Greta T ~
impish counterfeits
Count Olaf Von Farlow was a few quarts low
He followed the scent, he followed his nose
Gonna do a fly-by, wide-eyed, don't you know
Gotta do a fly-by low, to detect the flow
Now, Count Olaf's down, and he's blood bank bound
Incisors sharpened, with moldy, molded crown
That's "Olaf Von Farlow"...never hyphened
The Teller there, unaware...got siphoned
Carton Character Clerihew
12.8.25
Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse
wanted to buy a fancy estate house
went scurrying to a corporation bank
found it full of greedy glitzy hanks !
Nestled among the shining peaks
of flashing glass and girded steel,
gilded mansions enjoyed by sheiks;
who queue for nearby Ferris wheel;
near Parliament’s Gothic seat,
Shakespeare’s Elizabethan Globe,
It sits, grey, brutal, pure concrete
shameless without a cladded robe.
It’s naked beauty clads itself
around creativeness within.
I am it shouts, I am myself
without a falsifying skin.
With jutting angles, edges hard,
it’s beauty is more honest than
the Pickle, Telephone, or Shard
I will forever be a fan.
Isn't it funny how people see money
pieces of metal so very small
there's not a lot you can do
with a penny or two
money itself has really no uses at all
it used to be beads and once it was shells
at least you could wear them and buy or sell
how many have a dim view of money
pieces of paper so wafer-thin
there's not much you can fill with a note or a bill
money itself has very few ways it can thrill
its value is based on the bars of gold
buried in the basement of a bank
and whomever says whatever they're worth
is who we have thank
the root of all evil isn't money it's man
he'll wheel deal and steal to grab all he can
the more money he has the more money he needs
the root of all evil is mankind and his greed
Elon Musk
rid himself of tusks and husks
millions in bank
thank dank stank Hank
I have a dream to travel abroad
I tell myself, do everything to it
One day to make it happen when
If not I can make what I want
Come what may I still wish it
Is it impossible, no, I'll try
I keep on dreaming, walk, crawl
Lie in that direction far away
But I don't betray my dream well
So I got myself a piggy bank
I taped the lid of a shoe box
I put a day in every day I can
After all, on the box I wrote
"Hugh, to Maldives, here I come".
So funny the description I made
I put money in to start filling
Everyday, I'm crawling towards
My unpolished and unsure dream
Thinking of ways to put all the bills
I squeeze the box from time to time
How far it will be filled up I don't know
Looking at the window today by far
I can already imagine the plane
Landing in a hot nice country by sea
Slapping on the hot coastal sand
Sipping on a cold cocktail from where
I stand wearing this summer trunk beach
I came awaken this nostalgia realizing
I have to put again the bill to the box
To make this dream happen to reality.
My piggy bank gets fed,
At least once a week.
I do what my Momma said.
I push the coins in the top of his head.
Momma said, " You should feed your piggy every day!
So, you won't have to work and can play!"
I think she doesn't see,
What candy means to me!
No fat piggy for me.
Just a few coins to put away.
So, when I get old,
I can play all day!
Bank Card
My bank card, whose Dutch, has
some inkling of
alien happenings.
A small bank
When I visit my bank, which is a small rural one
the bank lady who warns me not to overspend
and my wife meets I go for a coffee across
the road, they are both from Congo and have
a lot to talk about
The business in the bank is done, forenoon
the prize of pig feed and grain harvest, and so on
When I am alone, I like to come early
and enjoy the concerned people with no dramatic political
meaning other than survival
the real people's experience that contextualized
not democratic that those who invest in
the future, should it arrive, be the beneficiary
that income should be distributed according to
input, it is not about equity
At the same time, my fellow investors do send
money to help Gaza because they read
the local newspaper that is biased toward Israel
My mother thought a Jew was someone in a fur hat
selling stuff from his cart.
Good job to you, red piggy
I'll use you for good
My plan for you is big
For this Christmas.
Sorry, I'll butcher you now
I'll have to pay my loan debt
Anyway, I'll save you then after.
A man with dreams, so bright and grand,
Sought capital from a bank's cold hand.
He borrowed much, with hope so high,
Bet his house, beneath the sky.
The bank’s burden, a weight unseen,
He turned to cheer in a bar’s dim sheen.
With borrowed funds, he drank his fill,
A fleeting joy, but fate’s cruel thrill.
A girl beside, with eyes that gleam,
Whispered promises, a fleeting dream.
To a motel’s room, they swiftly flew,
In the haze of night, where shadows grew.
Awoke alone, with dawn’s cruel light,
The woman gone, without a fight.
The motel's manager, demand so fierce,
For payment due, his woes increase.
In search of her, in clubs and bars,
He faced only silence, under stars.
Heavy labor to pay the cost,
Of dreams now shattered, all but lost.
A year of toil, his health declines,
AIDS/HIV, the cruelest sign.
From a fleeting touch, his life now frayed,
A cautionary tale of debts unpaid.
In shadows deep, where dreams collide,
He pays the price, where hopes reside.
A man who reached for dreams so high,
Found only burdens beneath the sky.
rising from bed in the morning
seeking shelter when it's storming
idly whiling stray hours away
dreaming there will be better days
fabricating a self-image
with a more prominent linage
doodling on back of a letter
shunning life as a go-getter
paying of various taxes
wielding rhetorical axes
stopping by the grocery store
dealing with muscles which are sore
waiting in the queue at the bank
musing why the page remains blank
finding the proper words to say
quickly dealing with come-what-may
filtering life's little lessons
leaving positive impressions
contemplating all that might be
if we'd just win the lottery
making life much less exacting
all in the action of acting
discovering what keeps us sane
among remains of the mundane
Minding as we step,
counting crocuses we walk,
taking snowdrop stops,
sharing with the afternoon,
joys of two boys now it's spring.
When Hank wanted to pull a prank
He would have God Himself to thank
sank into a corrupt bankrupt bank
Haiku Sort of o would love from above
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