Best Depreciated Poems

I stand tall on the windy mountain side.
Look down on mankind’s world
And snort in depreciated disgust.

Let death embrace me in its jugged jaws.
I'm not afraid,...

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Though all are blessed with eyes to see,
Eyes never lay sight upon the seer;
No retina perceives the seedling
beneath its iris.

Ocular nerves sense Occam-ented pictures
Of identity:...

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Compassion,
rooted in economic capacity and political experience 
within a co-empathic nutritional environment;
like before you came out of Mom.

Nutrition,
rooted in deep listening, learning, and, giving-and-taking, 
absorbing...

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Those of us
who have had guilty pleasures
of owning valuable real property,
like a car
and rental property
and office equipment

Office buildings,
solar inverters,
and nuclear holocaust delivery systems
but not privately...

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Iam crying  for freedom; Yes, freedom, I am losing my value.
I was used  as trade by   barter and I  lost...

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I dug a hole in the backyard last night.  
When I started digging I was thinking about death
Perhaps I would just lie down and...

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I wish I hadn't come here
I wish I hadn't seen that
I wish I hadn't bought this
I wish I my hair was longer
I wish I was...

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Write a poetry about a beggar
Tow hair - Heath Beard
Sludge - dirt covered ;
oh ! lord do not turn off face 
open heart humanity eyes...

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What the world would have become without gold?
Answers could not be found for platinum
Nor spoken word could be drawn out for diamond
Even the highly depreciated...

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You've heard
and seen
and perhaps even felt a dichotomy
between Type A and Type B personalities?

A is for Alpha-yang.
S/he couldn't possibly be more uncomfortable
with WesternWhite male nationalistic...

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Lead me home,
Away from these fires
And compromises of dreams inside,
Still existing, slowly deteriorating

Make no mention across
The boardroom desk of a 
Yearning heart. Bad form.
Bloody up...

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Like a gold coin, never gilded, 
I once was a valued asset, 
In good currency, well traded; 
But now with a down-sliding fate,
I’m but a...

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They say I need too much
to keep a positive
young-yang attitude,

More
and deeper soul,
higher sacred grace 
of gifted gratitude.

So do I often feel,
except privileged they feel too...

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Oh my goodness!

I was just thinking about Erik Erikson,
psychoanalyst and essayist,
and his social analysis thing
about the U.S.
stuck in perpetual competitive
in-grown
culture-ungrown adolescence.

And Erikson suddenly reminded me...

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Who am I?
I’m sure this is a question we all ask ourselves from time to time.
What’s my purpose what reasons do I have to carry...

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