* DARKNESS of the LIGHT *
Those that fear the dark,
Have never seen what the light can do.
In this grave, I will leave no mark.
Knowing the tunnel light, is the way God scr3ws with you.
I have no soul to sell,
Someone jacked my free ticket to hell.
I lived all my life on the verge of a broken dream.
My will locked behind this iron cell.
Only he can hear me scream!
My own prisoner in this bottle shell.
To fear the dark is the devil's scheme.
Watch me as I remove my own shackles from my limbs.
Towards the light, I will never redeem.
A full flavor laugh,
For he that fears the darkness, and walks the light alone.
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010
"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
I always wanted two slices of ice cube pie
“You only get one”, was the standard reply.
I don’t know why I did
But since I was a kid
It was my favorite treat on the Fourth of July.
The pastry is known by all our relations
Since the recipe’s passed down for generations.
Every bite you’ll savoir
But remember, don’t settle for imitations
Long ago, my great Aunt tried experiments
By leaving out one of the ingredients.
Once Uncle took a bite
He stared out in fright
And barely survived that bad experience.
My oldest son, Johnny became quite wise
He grew up like the others, before our eyes.
His passion for confection
Was a gainful connection
When he opened the first ice cube pie franchise.
Soon after that, we made our first million
And played in the sun with friendly Brazilians.
But to our surprise
We saw ice cube pies
On bamboo platters next to our pavilion
Right away we knew this was an infraction
Without delay our family took action.
We found a private eye
Who loved our ice pie
But his research left him broken in traction.
It was apparent to us that that kind of job
Was endorsed by the brutal ice cube pie mob.
But we didn’t frown
Or give up and back down
We were going to prevail; oh, yes siree, Bob!
With a meeting of minds we gathered resources
And then undersigned the following courses.
To make sure our ices
Sold at cut-rate prices
To knock competition off its high horses.
So back at the shop we assembled platoons
To build enough pies to reach to the moons.
And made plenty dough
That allowed us to mow
Down the cube racket’s, knuckle dragging goons.
We now manage an ice cube pie monopoly
Sales started smooth, but then turned choppily.
So we eased the frustration
With another vacation
But guess what we saw in downtown Mexicali?!
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013
I love you just the way you are
(after they buff that awful scar)
and laser the tattoos over your heart
I'm sure we're destined never to part
Remember to tuck up that cute
and put those buttocks back where
Do ask about Lypo and
wax that moustache
and while you are at it get those teeth
A beautiful smile in no time they say
it Looks great and it seems such a small
price to pay
For love such as ours that
withstands any crisis
so while you are there just look
into the prices
of permanent lashes and
green contacts honey
and buy some new clothes
for it's well worth the money
a wig or a dye job will top
off the look
and get those new nails that
we saw in that book
I love you for you
but it's so plain to see
There's really a much better you
you can be
So call me next year
after all transformations
(I'm sure you'll exceed all of
Just fax me a photo
I'll show it with pride
But remember I love you
for the you that's inside!
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2005
Next item up for bid, a rare coin of mine
Is one 1894 s silver Liberty dime
Only 24 of these coins were minted that year
That is, in San Francisco, let me be clear
In case anyone here has a thought to purloin
We have guards and cameras on this valuable coin
It's merely speculation why so few were minted
The fact is, that's all, they permitted
The superintendent gave most to banker friends
But three were given to his daughter to spend
She spent one on ice cream, the other two she saved
After that,there whereabouts weren't written on page
The chances of you seeing another one like this
Couldn't be calculated on one hundred abacuses
This perfect coin is the best ever seen
And the last one that sold went for two million green
If you've deep pockets, want to impress your friends
My rare silver dime must surely make you grin
For two million I'd say, "Going once" at that price
But now 2.5 million I'd say, "Going twice"
Anything over that I would gladly let it go
Pay three million right now and I'll holler, "SOLD"
By Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
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
Your smile, Your eyes I can't deny that I want to try something that I know I shouldn't.
I'm tempted to touch, to kiss, to go to another level with someone who doesn't even
belong to me. It's hard sometimes when I remember that feeling, I'm shy but I can be
crazy if I need to. I can't let that person escape from my soul because then I might try
to do something I will have no control over so stop looking my way. I can't control
these urges, Let alone stop thinking about what I want to do. Your making it hard for me
to walk away. Easy for me to stop pretending. It's so easy to just say I want you, It's
a physical attraction nothing more nothing less. So I close my eyes and get myself in
check. But slowly as I open them you can see temptation on my tongue rolling all over
me. I want to stop but I also want to go. Please temptation please please let me go. I
don't want to do this but then I see your face and oh I can't believe your doing this to
me. I hurry and run the other way, A street where you can't catch me. I need to survive
but i'm breathing hard, sweat dripping down my neck this is what I crave for so
temptation is lust. A sweet tasty drip of affection from someone that I shouldn't be
desiring to taste. But I want this and some how my body slaves for this, I need this.
Thus begins the chase of temptation a race I might not win.
Copyright © Shahana Jackson | Year Posted 2005
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
Hard earned wages
Burned as income tax
Cash gone like blowing wind
Tax is not like sweet vermouth
This is just like pulling hen’s tooth
Tax going up, paycheck going down
Tax man leave us alone—we need a break!
Won Honorable Mention
Etheree Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietirch
June 20, 2010
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
Our supposed modern scientific genius
May in fact just be our last fatal weakness.
This technological house of cards we've made
Left humanity walking along the edge of a razor blade.
How much could you buy or sell using debit or credit
If someone or something wiped out the internet.
A computer virus, terrorists, hackers, or an E.M.P.--
Will wipe out our hard-earned wealth eventually.
Killing beneficial insects is almost like fratricide.
Think really hard again about ever using insecticide.
How many fields of vegetable plants and fruit trees
Will ever bear fruit if there are no more bees.
Rather than organically producing more living topsoil,
We're killing what remains with chemicals derived from oil.
As chemical contaminants follows their downward motions,
Choral reefs and plankton are dying in the oceans.
As a species, we've all become germ-o-phobic neurotics,
Religiously trying to kill all microbes with antibiotics.
But pharmaceutical medicine will never defeat every bug,
So one of these days there's certain to be a super plague.
So will we all starve because we cannot buy or sell,
Or because the oceans and farmlands have all gone to Hell?
Will we be extinguished by some invincible virus?
What ever it be, the fault will probably lie in us!
I wish I could offer some brilliant inspired solution,
But remember that extinction is also a part of evolution.
You may write me off as some kind of nutty alarmist,
But people that know me consider me to be an optimist.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2016
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
For 15 years I have tolerated,
calculated, anticipated, sublimated workplace degradations, derisions,
subversions towards my character,
not today, no more,
yes, my pride has become livid, swollen like a bad bruise on the heart
and I apologize not for my self defense & righteous roil,
I will address you as the mean spirited scoundrels that you are,
no more 'boss - employee' boundry, just one human to another,
No fascade & title to prance behind, no longer above reproach from the lesser,
you are now entering the shock of the 'dead-fall' ,
buck you and your low wages, buck you and your perfect policies,
buck you and your work ethic 'mumbo jumbo',
buck you and the lame insults and false criticisms perpetrated
against my innocence and motivation,
buck you with your attempts to undermine my positive leadership,
buck you and your inconsistent hours
making a God damn yoyo out of me, buck you and your bonuses,
buck you and your preposterous training videos and ridiculous high school uniforms,
buck you and the belittling psychological questionniares connected to your applications,
buck you and your little managerial conclaves
which produce absurd machinations targeting the hourly employees
that make the place profitable,
wipe your cracks with your silly 'write ups' and legal circumspection bull-slit,
I am not your 'bro.' or 'buddy' , and I sure as shout am not your 'honey' ,
not today, not anymore
I will not allow you to treat me as a tool for your benefit,
I will no longer work faster so that you can save money & leave earlier,
you will no longer be permitted to laugh at me without redress,
you are now dealing with a Man, not just another employee number,
don't worry 'boss', I'll continue to work, I'm not gonna 'quit' ,
but I will not work for you, I am going to work with you,
today is a New Day -
J.A.B. Dedicated to all hard working Men and Women -
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2013
Just a five minute train ride
But I'm already far, far away.
Staring out through the speckled windows,
Highlighted against the setting sun.
I'm lost in the future,
Endless possibilities on the horizon.
Slowly, like the train slowing to a stop.
I regain consciousness in present,
The busy people squeeze together to get off,
I slowly rise to a stand behind them.
A smile on my face,
I walk towards those horizons.
Copyright © Angela Downer | Year Posted 2014
The world as we know it will end!
This warning the Mayans did send
But yes there's still time
After reading this rhyme
To honor Black Friday and spend
Copyright © Duke Beaufort | Year Posted 2012
New Future Of The
Cable cost are up
You turned to the
internet and so have
My Youtube channel
is the way to go
Now I can even make
I group the videos
to make a show
To bring you the
best of where I go
For kids the mower
and stove videos
I also have vehicles
and some scarecrows
Kids can watch from
morn til night
with lots of things
for a kids delight
Light houses, ship
building, and horses
Antique barn yards
and tractor pulls
just for you
and crafty wood
has all the quirks
The historical homes
make a great tour
Contest and oxen
pulls are never a
Animal friends, I
I have horses, dogs,
cows and sheep too
Plenty of petting
pens and milking for
And a simple click
is all you have to
A lot of shows with
a mix for all
derby or a stunt so
So if you dropped
the cable and you
have a need
I have three
channels for you to
By: Doris Anne
Copyright © Doris Beaulieu | Year Posted 2014
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 inn had gone to waste: I’d sold it off in haste.
Awaking in the gloom, as orbs lit up the room,
I recognised the ghost of Jonson, the old host.
I said, ‘I thought you’d come’ - and poured myself a rum.
He shouted, ‘Hey, you louse, how dare you sell MY house!’
Internal rhyme/slant rhyme
Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2011
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
Copyright © James Ray Morris | Year Posted 2010
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
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
Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2010
What's so normal about normalization?
We become a little more socialist
They become a little more capitalist
We all meet in the middle and hold hands… How sweet!
They give us Cuban cigars
We give them rap music
A form of torture
We can now visit Cuban hotels
Cubans can visit Disney World
My only question is
Does Cuba have toilet paper?
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong.
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.
My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.
Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.
It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic.
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.
In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.
Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.
Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?
Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.
Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.
The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.
Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.
That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.
When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.
I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.
© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2012
here in our country,
people suffer in cancer.
it's industrial prism.
no one can't get away.
one has hired just last year,
then see what it'll turn.
after three trimesters,
a new life will appear.
this pandemic illness.
of somebody's flesh.
cling to one another's,
set an immoral quest.
this world has carried over,
with the hand of a beasts.
and he who obeys him,
will taste the sweetness of defeat.
single or married women,
can be fell on this trap.
inside the cave of a lion,
all its wanted is lust.
people using people,
rulers must play their role.
to stop filling the bowl of trash.
Entry poem for :Giorgio V.'s Impress me with a small poem V (Yay)
** 2nd Place Winner**
Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014
To a place with no money
I'm takin' a hike
Where you work for your food
And you build what you like
No permit is needed
For the castle we'd build
No laws must be heeded
For the deer that we'd kill
A town marketplace
Where citizens share
And the stock market crashes
Cause nobody cares
And the smell of fresh food
Is rich in the air
Cause the barber must eat
For cutting our hair
And the hunters are tired
From catching the game
And the culligan man
Is catching the rain
And the doctors and lawyers
They never complain
They sold their Mercedes
But they're happy they came
The police are not crooked
Just fat as can be
Cause there's nothing to do
When everything's free
Not a single hard worker
Is wanting to leave
There's just one blasted problem
It's only a dream
Copyright © Kyle kriticos | Year Posted 2011
She found him in the yellow pages.
"Do you sell pecans?"
"Yes Ma'am, we do."
"I make a killer pecan pie,
how 'bout a trade?"
"You've got a deal."
"I have two,
still warm from the oven."
"I'll take both."
She delivered the pies,
purchased oranges, plums,
pineapple and grapefruit.
She bundled out, arms loaded
with fruit, and all the pecans
previously displayed on his counter.
His voice followed her to the car,
"My favorite is coconut cream,
still warm from the oven."
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014