Best Avarice Poems
The path was long and arduous
And night began to veer
O’er trees, and lanes and rusted gates
Its' shadows breeding fear
Unbridled Wind wisped ‘round
Tombstone crosses where
Hissing its’ frustration
Loudly in despair
It sought to nourish fears
The shadows did create
Searching everywhere to find
It’s soul-less night-time mate.
Moonbeam light kissed the Night
Claiming shadows as their child
Together then in lock-step
They bent on running wild
And there, where he awaited
Their cold inspiring touch
With doctrines of all Evils
Firmly in his clutch
The blackness in his heart,
Thumping ‘neath his frock
Soon it’s rancid maladies
The Wind would there unlock
Thoughts of what’s to come
Then twisted lips to smile
Revealing stained and yellowed teeth
Trapping breath so rank and vile
‘twas then The Prince of Avarice
Rose and stood erect
The world would soon be his
To ravage and infect
His eyes of snake, both bespake
Behind their reptile lids
The embrace of the doctrine
For no Evils it forbids
The Wind increased its’ howling
Icy fingers pushing fro
Arranging fallen hopes
Into a dead rouleau
And you and I so un-suspect
Of pending alchemy
Believing we were safe inside
Cocoons of normalcy.
Our naiveté so firmly grasped
Caused us to belie
The chaos we knew not …
‘twas there, and drawing nigh
As Wind fingers touched him
He yelled out his decree:
“ The Prince of Avarice shall reign
And destroy Democracy!”
His school of ghouls, dunce and fools
Clamored to his side
Greed having won the day
Was about to take It’s ride!
Greed, first blessed the banks
And Wall Street did rejoice
The Prince of Avarice then silenced
All protestor ‘s voice
With lies and propaganda
All fabricated well
Then all the bankers rang
The borrowers death knell
Morgan Stanley, AGI,
Then ‘twas Goldman-Sachs
Raking in what Greed gave out:
Billions in green-backs.
Glutted bankers,
Through laughter Greed had honed
Uncaringly showed the world
A prediction - their prodrome
Of broken dreams, foreclosure schemes
Insuring that which failed
But jobs the cost, as homes were lost
And not a banker jailed.
Pandora, Oh Pandora, you're to blame
Man's avarice has doomed us, one and all
So blatantly we covet without shame
And turn our heads away, when beggars call.
In fact, it is a shared character flaw
For who among us here, desires less?
Do you feel like your portion is too small?
It's when we're wanting more, when we transgress.
Yet sharing the world's wealth would be a mess
For who decides, too much or not enough
and who decides a fast and fair process?
Those questions there alone, are more than tough
Who would not put their finger on the scale
While heads were turned 'cause someone hollereed, SALE.
by Daniel Turner
Spenserian sonnet
ABAB BCBC CDCD EE
Scampering scurrying savages salvage soiled scraps
Hoping Hurrying helps hasten hoarding hunger
Watching women weep while wishing
Childish chants, chastising chosen children, creating chaos cloaks, confusing
Mankind’s morals, misguiding muses manipulate molding meaningless media minds
Vanquish villainous voices via vested
Compassion, congenial caring considering
Helping humanity heighten
Internal integrity increasing individual illumination
Ushering ultimate understanding upon uniting
Everyone evoking earth’s euphoria…
A tattered, ragged leather bag
hides faded photos wrapped inside;
both black and white and kodachrome
reveal lost dreams once held with pride.
An older, colder man made weak,
by sojourns made so long ago,
has paid with shame a painful price
for bitter seeds he chose to sow.
Consumed by youthful avarice,
success became amoral lust
for things of want but never need;
a soulless loss of love and trust.
He cured his life in lurid greed
so strong it tore apart his soul
as truth imbued was flung aside
and grand illusions took control.
He chased the dragon of deceit
along with every reprobate
deluded by corruptions face
foresworn to conjure riches fate.
Today he stands a naked man
reflected in the full length glass
of one more sterile penthouse suite;
bath fixtures proud old polished brass.
He opens up that leather bag
to gaze upon the photos there;
a smiling girl is gazing back
with jade green eyes and skin so fair.
She wears a bridal dress of white,
her face aglow, adorned with life,
to greet a future purpose proud
this loving girl became his wife.
There standing next to his young bride
a man exudes pure confidence
to conquer all life's challenges
without the slightest reticence.
Her innocence he stole away
with no remorse for all the lies;
he watched her slide into despair
till one day in his arms she dies.
The ugliness he once concealed,
in time she knew each sordid part,
yet still he chased the dragon's bait
until, at last, he broke her heart.
Next to a picture of his bride
a small revolver lies in wait;
he picks it up and fires inside
a mind that found the truth too late.
Here is the secret monologue of many:
"I am loyal, a servant most true!
That is until...I am not paid in full,
Then I turn to tattle, and to trash
Your trust with treason, high and foul!
As dreaded foes tread freely upon you,
I will make merry in your misery!"
"You may hate me, but faith is not free,
Loyalty demands largesse, and a fee!
For the times are adrift in seas of greed,
Full of subtle hints, hidden in sly smiles:
You there! Heed and hear: Pay me well
Or prepare to be quelled!"
Poem inspired by Mencius' important exhortation:
Mencius had an audience with King Hui of Liang. The king said, "....You must have some ideas about how to benefit my state." Mencius replied, "Why must Your Majesty use the word 'benefit'' All I am concerned with are the benevolent and the right. If Your Majesty says, 'How can I benefit my state?' your officials will say, 'How can I benefit my family,' and officers and common people will say, 'How can I benefit myself.' Once superiors and inferiors are competing for benefit, the state will be in danger. When the head of a state of ten thousand chariots is murdered, the assassin is invariably a noble with a fief of a thousand chariots, When the head of a fief of a thousand chariots is murdered, the assassin is invariably head of a subfief of a hundred chariots. Those with a thousand out of ten thousand, or a hundred out of a thousand, had quite a bit. But when benefit is put before what is right, they are not satisfied without snatching it all. By contrast there has never been a benevolent person who neglected his parents or a righteous person who put his lord last. Your Majesty perhaps will now also say, 'All I am concerned with are the benevolent and the right. Why mention 'benefit?' ''
All rights released into Public Domain
The spider
whose web I've been
crashing at
is getting kind of
sick of me.
I guess it's about
time I strike
out on my own, and see
what I can
make of myself.
I stepped onto
the sidewalk,
and wouldn't you
know it, there
she was;
Adorned by fluffy green
earmuffs
and gaudily over-sized
plush boots,
she was a low-fat
dessert for the eyes,
a paradox for the soul's
deciphering probe to
jab against.
Perhaps she was
the very realization
of my pewter daydreams
molded by tepid steam
from makeshift
ovaries.
In youth, one's greed may turn gold into bliss
but one grown poor and old need just learn this:
Who does not hold an urn in which to piss,
must earn joy then, through love, not avarice
Avarice
To sit at the right hand of God,
See the Angels read from evil lists,
The great whore of Babylon, aint happy,
she has the greed of the Devils mist,
money was made in the mines were,
a greedy un sufferable ditch,
not enough to be worth many millions,
cheap labor, she sure has the itch,
an eye for an eye says Jehova,
Somalia, her tent there to pitch,
And hungrier still when it’s over,
When Karma puts in her next stitch
The wealth of the earth comes to nothing,
And you leave just as poor as you came,
And nastiness sticks in your craw now,
Old stupid she played the greed game:}
Don Johnson
==============================
out back of the barn
I watch you hitch a wagon
to the fine draft mare
your last harvest bought
'tis I would be behind her,
had I seen her first
(and had I a cart)
while you travel in comfort,
I ruin my good feet
why should she be yours??
==============================
Written: 10/28/2018
Contest: Seven Deadly Sins
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
An Avarice Moon
The avarice moon is high tonight,
a forked tongue's bizarre delight.
Loose lips will never hesitate
to speak in fashionable hate
about the how and why of those
whose fortune only grows and grows.
I guess we just don't understand
in the same way those people can
that sometimes two and two are six
and take away one does not fix
the likelihood of spending time
computing widths of bottom line.
Success is found proportional,
the door in kind to the portal,
passing from naught into vision.
While have not’s foster derision
the haves are boxing Astroturf
without a thought of rippled surf.
Oh I do like a good curry
spicy and hot,
with a lot of flavor,
fresh herbs and spices.
But I abhor your flattery
to fawn and curry favor
in vile ingratiation.
Such curry has a bitter flavour
and nips the bud of any favor sought.
It's a dish of foul curry and tainted rice,
topped with a sauce of greed and avarice.
Malignant Avarice
by Odin Roark
How pernicious
This featureless monster
Lurking in shadows of cravings
Knowing well its metastasizing power
The child in man squints
Observing the ghost like presence
Segueing centuries past
Where both kings and peasants
Priests and flocks
Bankers and customers
Toyed with the infectious apparition
Ignorant of its ravenous nature
Time continues its partner
Tiptoeing surreptitiously
From party ice cream
Through adolescent hormonal voracity
Into awakened narcissism
Clever its disguise
Masquerading upwards through corporate
Domestic
Spiritual safe havens
Where waning immunities
Await ready infection
Long ago
The child giggled
Birthday cake and gifts
So innocent
Gluttony and greed remained
Unknown enemies
Until...
We mere mortals,
Are but temporal beings.
Drowned by the wine of luxuries
That life has to offer.
That being said, still suffices not
(Countless, numerous sins ongoing
Creating, still dreaming
Of robots never-ending)
The forgotten warmth near the fireplace
And those which are eternal
Just to be swept away
By the broomsticks of the witch,
Just to be blinded by the lust of ambition.
As man ceaselessly aspires
For the things he greatly admires
His avarice seldom expires
But kindles lofty desires
That burns like raging fire
Long after his quests areacquired
I always want what I don’t have.
I must possess that which I crave.
I cannot master my desire.
So, to my whims I am a slave.
I think sometimes it’s not so bad.
I can make do with so much less.
But then I see “fill-in-the-blank”
And as I see, I must possess.
So, give me more and give me new
In hope that I might find my bliss.
And ever deeper I will fall,
Mastered by my avarice.