Best Economy Poems | Poetry
Below are the all-time best Economy poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of economy poems written by PoetrySoup members
Search for Economy poems, articles about Economy poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Economy poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.
New Economy Poems
Don't stop! The most popular and best Economy poems are below this new poems list.
The economy of death
by Jones, Marcel
Resource Based Economy
by TheKidster, Billy
by Evans, C
Economy On To Spur
by Horn, James
An economy that works for everyone is an egg
by Chanan, Taoi
The Economy of the World Rests on My Shoulders and My Shoulders Rest on You
by Levy, Barry
Trump Economy Is Sure To Wreck
by Horn, James
by Tunick, Howard
Short Guide through Geo Political Economy Part 1
by Zozulya, Arthur
by TheKidster, Billy
View all new Economy Poems
The Best Economy Poems
1. Big Brother
Big Brother's protecting his mice
with a secret eavesdropping device.
If you hang up the phone
he'll just send in a drone
when a warrant won't really suffice.
The internet's meant to be free,
yes for all, such as you, such as me.
But now there's some doubt -
will it lose all its clout
with the death of neutrality's spree?
'twas surely our forefather's dread
all our emails would someday be read.
Now that push comes to shove
by the powers above,
private thoughts must now stay in our head.
Guantanamo bay's a resort
where the fishing's a fabulous sport -
with your back on a board
tepid water is poured
spawning tales for a kangaroo court.
To bountiful bailouts give thanks
for there's nothing much richer than banks -
making money galore
taking homes from the poor
while they're managing mortgaging pranks.
If you live in the States don't get sick
(lest a cut of the upper class clique).
Whether injured or ill
all they'll give you's a pill -
if you're lucky you'll surely die quick.
Our economy's doing just fine
lying dead with a slug in the spine.
So come follow the call
where there's money for all
and pure profit's the bottom-most line.
Vigilantes and cops are wide spread -
as for justice… not even a shred.
The avengers of right
score when stalking the night
so beware of a cap in the head.
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2014
Blissfully ignorant and supine,
Lost in the economy line,
voters don’t have a clue
that liberty is through.
Apathy dictates all else is fine.
People keep telling me how foolish I am,
but frankly I don’t give a dam.
I’m going to tell you what I see.
You don’t have to agree with me.
In hatred’s name Moslems prayed at the mosque,
boarded planes and three thousand we lost,
Soon we elected a Moslem president,
his books words and actions self evident.
To prove he was islam’s extremist hero,
He allowed a triumphant mosque at ground zero,
Freedom of religion is what they subtly called it,
by a government that continues to overhaul it.
The American people look on as if still numb,
singing his praises as if deaf and dumb,
while a pseudo democratic uncle Sam,
in a forced health care plan,
continues to turn out liberty’s lights
by destroying other religion’s rights.
Thus the American people’s democracy,
is morphed into a dictatorial hypocrisy.
While blindsided by a frantic economy,
we apathetically lose our autonomy.
Allowed by deaf and blind voters in a loud voice,
Fooled by not freedom but license they call choice,
sly appointment of people who fulfill the plan,
A long range one by the “new” Uncle Sam.
a champion of abortion, killing future contenders
him and Herod; another of the great pretenders.
“Enlightened Americans have one point two children per family,
because of abortion, birth control and contraception
Moslems have seven; which is the anomaly?
We Americans treat babies as an infection.
Laugh if you wish; I’m just exposing the path,
You “enlightened” Americans: you do the math.
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2012
My family is everywhere like wild seeds sown
On the whim and bluster of a wind
Some left for Cuba before the revolution
Bring green stalks of sweet grass to sugar
And are still there, root sunken in the earth
Grafted branches without memory now
Or recognition of ancestral home,
Separated by language and new history
Thick as the depth of our watery boundaries.
Some in Panama built the canal, but no bridge
For home when their meagre cents were spent
Too soon. I met a few with little knowledge
But no anxiety for early morning mist of blue
Over the mountain, looking still to see them
Coming home like birds when summer is done.
Some went to Venezuela to see the oil
They said was black as Africa in the new world
Brazil: there football is more than economy
Gladiators: bloodless troubadors of the new army
And many drifted into the squalor of Costa Rica,
Nicaragua, Ecuador, searching for light
Amidst old civilizations brought to ruins
By Conquistadores majesty and Roman might.
The only one who report are those from Canada
Is it because of the language, because they proper
As they do in America. Is there nothing in them
That longs for home, to leave the Mexico to her Aztecs
Her cactus lace with golden strands of sun.
When I was in Germany, Austria, France, far away
As Holland, Rhine and Danube linking invisble
Heritage, I met them, distancing the old decay
"We are thinking to move to Taiwan or Japan"
They told me, poverty does make a barren land
So I understand the boat people, not lying
Like Columbus, they seek the same treasure
And yet for their truth reap some displeasure.
I could package it for them to sell, but cannot agree
When the wind rattle the wattle of desolation.
My family is everywhere scattered like wild seeds
In fresh forests fretting with the burden of the wind.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
Stood I there, that last day,
On an iron bridge...
An aqueduct by design,
Where, looking dreamily out over
The Ernes Lower Lough,
My compressed shadow
Momentarily paused -
To contently recline:
Amidst coy Junes radiant beams
of sweet benign!
All was stilled, all was hushed,
Save vast reed beds sided by the
Shallow hills of Lisbellaw;
And I am lost to enchantment
Of such beguiling thoughts -
Then noon stumped up...
Squatting idly down on
The far eastern shore.
Stirred bloods mixed and
Risen inside the linings
Of warmed and prominent veins,
Starkly contrasting against a
Bleached and weathered rail of
Coarse and twisted grains;
Whereon, my hands staid by
I dissected my solitary years
Of three singular and two score
When, suddenly, down the narrow
The loudening sounds of
Progressing steadily along
Emanating from a diesels engines
From this carriage alighted an
Elderly man -
But what a giant of a man who
Now stood before!
With shoulders like a Donegal
He must have still stood well
Over Six foot- four.
And with a courteous nod of the
To an impassioned peroxide
Whos ample Bosom could bring
To any mans bed -
Would such that desire should
Stepping assuredly away,
Gently closed the big cars door.
Here was a gentleman schooled
He a masterly exponent in the art
Made more effective by
Elimination of redundancy;
Economy of language, economy of
Deliberate, terse, and very much
In this, his brevity of
The thin lines of orange and
Tracing like fizzing peat turf
That squared within his pale
Criss-crossing at right angles
His torsos colossal frame;
Where one could plainly see,
With merely just a single glance,
Demonstration of a mighty fulcrum
Centred by the heavy silvered
Whose leather belt drew in at the
Neatly pressed pleats
Of the softly blackened corduroy
And anticipating a reaction
That might be considered rather
awkward and a little adverse...
Suggested by the immense manner
Of ambling approach,
I stumbled over meaningless
As I struggled for something,
To almost apologetically broach:-
"There is rather few Bream",
Said I -
"But the river is brimming over
With plentiful good sized Roach"!
A quizzical look flickered and then
Over that impassive face,
A look that younger or more
Might have mistakenly
Misinterpreted as an arrogant
Stared he down into the glare
Of the rippled depths...
As if examining the thinness of
My mortal soul;
Stared he distractedly across
The bays great expanse
As if imploring unto mysterious
Swimming with beguiling Nivian
In swirling dalliance,
That may offer up, like Excalibur -
Some fantastic vision to behold!
Perhaps, I reasoned, In search of
His forefathers soothing muses of
Drawn from legend of folklore:
Doubtless could fortify depleted wit...
And thereby his heart console;
Wherefore, in slow response...
The worthiness of this bridge he
Therefore - to so virtuously extol!
A dialect, commanded by
That over me enveloped
Like fog upon Cuilcaghs mystical
Hills of continually eroding
Developed through ancestral
Indelibly immersed in Fermanaghs
Guttural and broad undertones;
Enriched by successive generations
Rejoicing in their Heavenly bower:
Now just buried bones
Rehearsed and blessed in public
Delivered under Alberts great
Upon whose mouldering caskets
The bells striking chimes
So forcefully atones;
And a voice brought hence to this
A voice born to converse in
Singularly articulated lines...
Fortified by propriety of grace...
Whence he spoke:-
"GOOD WORK - DONE BY GOOD MEN -
FROM OLDEN TIMES"!
Without more ado, and uncaring of
He turned and strode away;
Leaving me feeling,
During that brief intrusion of
As if this had been one of Gods
During zenith of Prime Meridian,
Upon this devoid and hushed
As if demanded by higher
To react swiftly through
Necessity of immediate response,
Bridling horsepower once again
Mighty pistons, growling to life,
Within the exploding bore and all
Its fiery strife!
Wherein the cast block:
Pivotal rods pushing down hard upon
A ground cranks bolted constrains -
When powering my receding vision
Away into the diminishing dusts of
Hosannas racing refraines.
With head bowed in silent
For the ruminations of an older
And wiser mans preference,
I knew that I would forever
This revered and most hallowed
For now committed to mind -
Be that Bridges steadfast and
And those eternal words...
"GOOD WORK - DONE BY GOOD MEN -
FROM OLDEN TIMES"!
A TRUE STORY THAT HAPPENED TO ME 16 YEARS AGO.
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2016
Paul, Peter and the Tweeter
Why not choose,
a billionaire leader?
One who is not
an eloquent speaker.
he robs Paul to pay Peter.
The bold rich need tax savings,
forget about the meeker.
From a distance,
we watch the kingdom teeter.
Him smirking on high,
he thinks "What could be sweeter!"
Why oh why,
did so many choose that cheater?
Global temperature rising,
things aren't the same.
Scientific facts need hiding,
isn't that a shame?
There's new logic he's applying,
says coal dust isn't really flying.
Even though the fish are bitter
and you can't see them under the litter,
no one can turn down the heater.
"Fake News" he says,
check out T-Man's Twitter.
The Country is "Great Again",
cause he ain't no quitter!
Yet people are making less than their babysitter.
Good jobs will go with free trade,
might as well become a waiter.
Otherwise you’ll starve sooner or later.
he wants to build a wall.
Mexico will pay,
so build it tall.
You don't need them at all.
But no one left to pick the fruit,
or to be at your beck and call.
Watch it all fall,
for sure the economy will stall.
No one buying nothing at the mall.
Klu Klux Klan standing tall.
If they ask him,
T-Man will let them guard his wall.
Look for all the signs,
a leader who's a hater.
A logic lacking debater,
If he pushes the button,
we might become a large crater.
He'll spin it and tell those left,
"I'm the great emancipator!"
If you don't believe him,
You’re just another disloyal traitor!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2018
Africa's children blighted in the rich land of birth
Persecuted by the oppressing hand of foreign greed
Agitate for love to find in ancient pigment its worth
Rights of human beings trampled like common weed
Time changes nothing, it's the blind heart that deceives us
Humanity in Marikana overthrown fore Malema took his stand
Erases what is progress while business stays the same
Insensitive in its selective structure, insolent in its plan
Democracy condoning plunder has a resume of shame.
Souls of men worn with toil and danger
Trespass with their plea for aid and freedom
Rulers riled cast disdain at telling hunger
Imposing tragedy that shows the faked ransom
Kins and comrades in the long struggle paid
Economy is a forked tongue serpent on parade
In protest of the 44 miners who died Marikana
South Africa, I cannot support a pax humana
Till the guilty are brought to justice, children fed
And true equality becomes the legacy of the dead.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
India, my motherland best as any mother
To me, at par with best world over
India's invention of Zero and Decimal
Critical to scientific calculation, invention
Rich ancient culture of Harappan civilisation
Alexander, Babur, too could not resist invasion
Founder of Diverse religions,
Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism
Himalayas, abode of Saints, spiritual Mantra
Holy rivers Ganga, Yamuna, Bhramaputra
Multi-culture, cuisine, languages - local, foreign
Muslim, Christian, Zoroaster, secular terrain
For centuries borne Moghuls, British slavery
Now successful largest Democracy
Greats - Gandhi, Vivekananda, Mahavir, Buddha
Sacred texts - Vedas, Puranas, Epics - Ramayana, Mahabharta, Gita
Taj Mahal, Khajurao, Ajanta, Ellora – mausoleum, temples, caves
India’s Wonders of World, UNESCO World Heritage Sites
Deployed for Peace, Nuclear Power
World’s second largest Army but invaded never
Founder Member of UN, Non-aligned Movement
India’s standpoint significant in any world’s event
India, leading force in South Asia Region
Global force to reckon with in any international forum
Every third Indian in world's intellectual work force
Medicine or Software, India has best human resource
World’s second fastest developing economy
India, future Super Power, can't stop any
Country - India
By Hitendra Mehta
~ Harappan civilisation - ancient urban rich Indus Valley civilisation
~Alexander / Babur – Greece/Moghul Emperor
~Ganga, Yamuna, Bhramaputra – Holy rivers
~Gandhi – Father of Nation, led Non-Violent freedom struggle against British Empire
~Vivekananda – introduced Hindu philosophies of Vedanta & Yoga in Europe &
~Mahavir / Buddha – founder of Jain / Buddha religion.
~Vedas, Puranas – Primary Hindu Sacred Texts
~Ramayana, Mahabharta, Gita – National Hindu Epics. Gita,part of Mahabharta
~Taj Mahal – Mausoleum built by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. A UNESCO World
Heritage Site. Featured in Seven Wonders of the World.
~Khajurao – Hindu, Jain temple famous for erotic sculpture. UNESCO World Heritage
~Ajanta –Rock cut monument famous for masterpieces of paintings/sculptures of
Buddhist religious Art. UNESCO World Heritage Site.
~Ellora – Rock cut monument famous for Buddhist, Hindu and Jain caves. UNESCO
World Heritage Site.
Copyright © Hitendra Mehta | Year Posted 2011
By the light of a window sits an old man, his pennies he does count.
His hair is gray, his eyes are old, and there’s little in his bank account.
He has lived his life by the book of what is good, kind and just.
He had some fun when he was young, was a man you could trust.
He’s done all the things you have, he worked his whole life thru.
And now he sits, by the window of life, wondering what he will do.
As his health went away, his life went away, he never doubted it would.
He saved and was frugal his whole life long, he did the best he could.
But the way of money is often misunderstood, and it often slips away.
Now he wonders how he will keep all those predators at bay.
The economy went bad; his job went away, his medical insurance, too.
He’d already been sick, medicines were high, and he lost his house to boot.
The new medical insurance is high, so much he can’t afford any treats.
Air conditioning’s a dream, heat may be soon, but he’s not on the streets.
Now in an apartment he will rest his head, and sparingly he does eat.
Gloom and doom are not his way, so a new life he will greet.
He can’t write, he shakes too much, but with a computer he gets it done.
He has trouble traveling. Finding work is hard. None his way will come.
His mind’s not sharp, but he’s seen so much, he’ll find a way to get along.
And he still has a passion for words, the world, and of course for song.
So with that in mind, as a poet he was born. And as a poet, he has grown.
He’ll never be Shakespeare, Milton, or Poe…but a poet all his own.
From his work, great poems will come, as his foundation is solid as stone.
He’ll write about people and places, and in time his light will be shone.
Some poems will be up, and others down, and a few of dreams he knew.
His thoughts and work gave him a passion for life, to which he will be true.
So tell a friend, and buy his book, have them use it in their school.
It’s the history of people, places, and things, a beautiful history jewel.
His life went to dust but now thrives, and he’ll gladly continue to work.
The rest of his life he’ll be a great poet, it’s a responsibility he’ll never shirk.
In his poems, his hope, bright soul, and heart will continue to shine.
It’s something that again calls to his heart, that he can say is truly mine.
Impress Me4 Epic Carol Eastman Written 2009... for all poets...
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014
We are the Indians noted for our humanness and calm nature
With no harshness in our Principles and ideals.
We are open minded, emotional and good natured
Our emotions speaks louder than words
We are Rich in culture, traditions, festivals, gold, diamonds and food
Our culture are deeply rooted within our hearts, mind, body and soul
We are the country of generosity, civilization and the quality of excellence in thoughts and manners
We have the 3rd highest armed forces in the world
We are multi-racial, multi-cultural and multi-religious country
Our Land is a land of spirituality, unity, peace, ancient, love, forgiveness and true friends
Our Himalaya Mountain includes the highest peak in the world
We are the fourth largest fastest growing economy in the world
We are the biggest and most successful democracy in the world
We are one with unity and integrity and respectful to everyone
Simple, down to earth by nature, helpful, warm hearted
We have 28 states and 7 union territories
Each states has their own clothing styles and own languages
We co-exist peacefully and have a single nationalistic identity
Our country has created Pentium chip and Hotmail
Our country is the co-founder of Sun Microsystems
We are the world's largest producer of milk, spices in the world
We have the number one best film industry in the world
We Indians are the wealthiest among all ethnic groups in America
Among 3.22 millions of Indians in USA which is1.5% of population
YET,38% of doctors in USA are Indians.
12% scientists in USA are Indians.
36% of NASA scientists are Indians.
34% of Microsoft employees are Indians.
28% of IBM employees are Indians.
17% of INTEL scientists are Indians.
13% of XEROX employees are Indians.
We have the highest number of Doctors, Engineers and Scientists
Zero, Algebra, Trigonometry, Quadratic equations, Calculus, Place Value System and the Decimal System, chess, snake and ladders game, yoga etc originated from us.
We have the unquestionable gifts as grammar and logic, philosophy, fables
We are one of the largest English speaking and talented Country of the world.
We are family oriented people with extended families
With lowest divorce rate in the world.
We have the most beautiful graceful women
Winning the titles of Miss Universe and Miss World.
Our flag depicts great tricolor saying that we all are brothers.
Saffron color stands for renunciation, disinterestedness, courage and sacrifice
White color symbolizes truth, peace and purity
Green color represents prosperity, vibrance and life.
The wheel represents the righteousness, progress and perpetuity.
The 24 spokes of the wheel represents the 24 hours of a day
Nothing can be compared to the beauty of our Land
Mark Twain said 'India is the cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history, the grandmother of legend,
And the great grand mother of tradition".
lndia is our home where our heart can rest and sleep
No words can explain the beauty of our land.
Every Indian makes INDIA very proud
Be Proud to be Indian! ! !
Copyright © Shaila Touchton | Year Posted 2016
A scientist pursuing research—
with disinterested curiosity,
Poets distancing themselves—
from personal emotions,
from ‘personality’ (in Eliot’s idiolect),
A sportsperson focusing on the event—
not obsessed with results,
demonstrating sporting spirit,
Anyone doing their karma—
regardless of results,
as characterized in Indian scriptures,
notably the Gita—
All these are instances of detachment—
Of varying degrees
And of course in various domains.
Thus, they all fit into a paradigm.
The old order changeth, yielding place to new!
There was a paradigm shift in the globe—
Detachment suddenly changed
To (greedy) Attachment—to profit.
And the Rat Race started.
It originated in Keiser’s pre-War Germany.
Chemical industry sponsored Academic programmes.
But chemical weapons were piling up.
Oh, what a pity!
And war seemed to be the only solution—
To dispose of the weapons.
No free lunch!
A weak Kaiser yielded.
Germany plunged into war—
A development not dissimilar
To the piling up of warheads in the US,
Leading to the Gulf War.
Kaiser abdicated and fled.
Now, a broken Germany
Had to launch another war,
To salvage its economy—
With far more disastrous consequences this time.
The Fatherland broke down.
Führer killed himself.
Germany was broken in two.
But the new paradigm continued to work—
The world came to be governed
By corporate concerns,
No free lunch!
The rat race continued
And still continues,
At breakneck speed,
Between the two Geopolitical Blocs,
Between members of the same Bloc!
What about ideology, then?
No free lunch!
The paradigm shift means
Commodification, Cutthroat competition,
Aggressive marketing, Subliminal appeal,
Exploitation of labour.
What about ideology, then?
No free lunch!
Benjamin Bloom came.
Displaced Liberal education
Academies gave up Engineering,
Research was all geared to
A noble, commercial purpose.
The world became a Workers’ Paradise,
(in Tagore’s idiom).
Exploitation of labour?
Will go on.
No free lunch!
But what about values?
‘Politically correct’ language, please.
No free lunch!
Of late busy with contests—of course.
And write only for prize money!
The muses or Sarasvati?
No superstitions, please.
No free lunch!
All on the market,
Waiting to be bought off
Or already auctioned.
Can’t help it.
No free lunch!
And sporting spirit?
What do you mean?
Current English, please!
No free lunch!
And what about detachment?
Why, are you a Buddha?
A Charlie Chaplin?
A Rip Van Winkle or an ET?
Google Postmodernism and Kali Yuga
And find out.
Read rags and update.
Or you’ll be detached.
No free lunch!
Om, shantih, shantih, shantih!
Copyright © Ram R. V. | Year Posted 2017
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
The sun rose this morning
Things are going our way
Frost and drought
Did not destroy crops
There’s food for the world – Lick your chops
A truce finally came in the Mideast
Soldiers are coming home
No more to war will they roam
Cures have been found for Ebola and cancer
All who were ill are now well
We’ll never again hear the death knell
Washington D.C. is rejoicing
A new president won election
The economy is headed in a better direction
All who want jobs are now working
Teachers, nurses, street cleaners too
Accolades abound for this major breakthrough
Harmony prevails throughout the world
All religions and cultures have united as one
No one need carry a gun
Environmental protection efforts are working
Let’s rejoice with a sip of wine
Prayers have been answered by a Creator divine
*October 18, 2014
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2014
Little boy with a toy gun
Dreams of all that might be fun
To be fully clad in combat gear
And go into battle with no fear
A hero he would like to be
Even though he cannot see
That heroes today are hard to discern
From the victims created without concern
By politicians who think it fine
To support an economy based on crime
Who is it that wins in war
Politicians corporations so many more
Who never see the horror and gore
Just sit at home adding up the score
Measured by profits next quarter’s gain
Riding the military gravy train
Little boy think real hard
You mustn’t ever disregard
What life would be like to come home scarred
Or in a box with an honor guard
The government issues you combat boots
Then leaves you homeless and destitute
TBI PTSD paraplegic or amputee
The VA tries to serve them well
But the government that sent them to hell
Makes many promises then builds a wall
Cutting off resources creating a pall
So many veterans waiting in pain
Ignored by their country
Such a great shame
Little boy with a toy gun
War really isn’t very much fun
Put aside your dreams of glory
Listen to the veterans sad true story
H Tunick July 2015
Copyright © Howard Tunick | Year Posted 2015
It's night now in harlem, time to explore
Snakes are diurnal, rats love their nocturnal
Life, the subway is a swinging door.
A cockroach crawls before it falls
Catalectic between the broken walls.
It's time to pay the rent and feed children
Feeding themselves from a golden arch
Of junk. Sunday's money is gone to heaven
But Sunday's soul is strung out in a park.
The boundaries of black life draw tourists
From away places, easy to find on Harlem
Streets young girls window shopping closed stores
And vermins that never meets the eyes
When day is bright. Young boys in their pack
Cannot prowl alone, someone must watch the crack
In the wall, the sound of shadowy foot falls
The blind bullet speeding towards a sighless back.
She comes click clacking through the door,
A stilletto shaft of light on the puddle of gore
Why are all her children dead so young?
What happen to black boys in their dreams
To belong? Sisters, be strong, keep the veins
On idle from the needle punctuating
The decisions of a real sinister man. Sisters, I hear
In the blues, thin pointed, small stilletto shoes
Walking through cold, papers blowing the evening news
Across the tangled sounds of aimless feet.
A scrawny, melodramatic light, shines
Where the streets lamps dispossessed of bulbs
Points to the origin of the curling incense
A sweet cat reads children fairy tales
On a carpet that will not fly.
We have a new president
Looking like Malcolm talking like King
But since sister Tubman left us
The genii blew out the lamp
Who is circling the wagon, who is pulling camp?
This north is still far from promiseland
The only thing not found on the ground
In Harlem is cotton,
It is too white for self inflicted wounds.
Cotton burns, it would burn in the night.
We who plant it has none of its delights.
Pour me a pint of blues, give me light
My sorrow drives the economy,
If I die what pall will bear testimony
To the wreaths of wind shivering inthe empty space
Of the shuttered mall.
Read fairy tales Harriet, meant well but went the wrong way
Pinkerton did not stop her, hope decentralizes the wealth
But Marcus, O Marcus was a different thing
They had to prison him. He knew the way to go
Flip flapping wind sail and no stilletto toe
Could carry this burden across so much salt of water
Through these hypertensions of night. Cry for Marcus
To come from his whirlwind, a hollow laughter echoes here.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
A Chinese lad was at table dawdling with his pork and rice.
This upset his mama-san who reprimanded him in a trice!
"Clean your plate! Children in America are starving, son!"
And she continued to berate him - her tirade had only begun!
"Your papa-san has a great job while dads in America are on the dole.
Our economy is booming while that of America is lagging, on the whole!
Papa makes good money to provide Americans with the things they need.
You should be very thankful for the jobs they send here, yes indeed!"
"Kids in America can't get a job even with a college education,
But, son, America will provide you with a job in any old vocation!
This is the land of opportunity, my boy, thanks to American capitalists!
You must appreciate all they have done for us Chinese communists!"
"Not so long ago your father and I didn't have a yuan to our name.
Now we have a house and brand new car - life will never be the same!
So I don't want to hear any of your sass or fiddling with your food.
Thanks to the generous Americans, they have lifted our nation's mood!"
"I want you to clean your plate and grow strong to follow in your dad's shoes.
Uncle Sam needs you to make TVs and shirts or anything else they choose.
No more lip! Clean your plate! I want to see those chopsticks flying!
Think about the kids in America who'll got to bed tonight hungry and crying!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012
My good friend Jerry’s unemployment had run out
I feared print journalism’s future was in doubt
But while we commiserated on Christmas Eve
A disheartening report was broadcast on TV
Local law enforcement had been busy that day
People found living in the woods had been cast away
These homeless families had set up tents on state land
And police had ordered these squatters to disband
How heartless it seemed that these souls should be tossed out
Poor folks who had nothing and learned to do without
We shut off the TV, couldn’t take it anymore
And headed for a café with joyful décor
Just twenty degrees as we drove down the highway
Where a sight neath a bridge caused far more dismay
A couple and their small child huddled together
Trying hard to stay warm in cold winter weather
Sad images of Bethlehem flashed through my mind
With no room at the inn for the savior of mankind
I looked at my friend and he returned my glance
We both felt this family needed a second chance
“Pull over,” he murmured, “we can’t just leave them here
These folks deserve to share in our holiday cheer”
So money that could have bought steak dinners for two
We used to buy hamburgers for our five-member crew
Some cash left over for a room at Motel Six
Not a real solution – a temporary fix
We returned Christmas Day; our church would take them in
But they had checked out; it was half past eleven
For long I’ve wondered what happened to this family
And what each Christmas holds for those who are needy
*Recollection of Christmas, 2007, when the economy started to fail.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
The frost like manna fell and fled
And after it so much was dead
Brown and shriveled the garden bed
We will increase price: all they said
But I saw the crumbling paradigm here
The crutched economy, the drizzling fear
And natures omen so dusty white
The trembling truth in open sight
Be not so stark the paupers scold
Lie to us too, defy the cold
We have country, let us be hold
Though from pole to pole thunders roll
My faith is in God, not what transpires here
The coming kingdom and its Christ now draws near
From flood to famine I see all
Earth's demise and the human gall.
Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2011
Did our Age of Aquarius evaporate,
fail to regenerate,
fall too far short of what our parents
knew we should anticipate?
Free love could not sustain
weak non-violent resolutions against
whatever busyness was for.
Yet, if love is synergy,
and creation is this co-passion's regenerate transgeneration,
how could love cost more than free?
How could co-redemption not invest everything
in learning how to cooperatively Be,
free of enslaving supremacist becoming,
free to come together as ecological We?
Those who stop to count these costs of love,
look for ways to divest of co-opportunity,
ignoring Earth's mentoring economy
of light's photosynthetic comprehensive consciousness,
of neutral's dark unconsciousness,
a fog bank evaporating as double-binding time and rhythm
pattern and color RNA's free-fractal love connection.
If Time's eternal unfolding presence is 0-dimensional,
and Nature's bicameral perception is 2-dimensional prime,
bicameral form with function,
ego emerging from eco,
yang incarnating double-yin,
reiterative communicative processors
borrow RNA's decomposing 3-space with 1-time prime bilateral dimensions,
Shy winterish Uracil of Universal freely decomposing love
greets Cytosine's full summer-formed regeneration,
as objectives greet their past and future subjects;
while Adenine painlessly springs
for Guanine's lavishly com-posted integrative harvest,
as verbs form fractal-recycling nouns,
verbal con-science revolutions,
relearning Earth's organic language,
by echoing universal polypathic syntax.
Universal monocultural power of governance
becomes a Left-brained dominant and reductive tyrant,
an Emperor reified of clothes
to cool His naked Ego-thirst.
when power remains integral within co-passionate,
synergetic uniting cooperatism,
then naked power conjoins dark yin-time-ations,
shy bigendering romantic camouflage,
re-birthing this post-millennial
Age of Aquarius.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
trickle down economy
the middle class
as less and less
pay the bills
when I was
still in diapers
the rich got taxed
a whole lot more
along with rock and roll -
Now it’s all about
no one sees
as it sits
in nice safe havens
Make a war -
no money to
Let the wealth
you and me
For Brendan J. Simon's 'Societal Discontent' contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
Once there was a famous king,
More famous than Ozymandias.
His name was King Wolf.
Sultan was his nickname.
He called himself a benevolent despot;
And his style of government
A ‘democratic dictatorship.’
He spoke good English—
A foreign language, though;
Only a minor problem with 'l' and 'r':
Once, for instance, a reporter asked him,
"What about elections, Your Majesty?"
"Why, I have them everyday!"
The poor reporter was thoroughly confused.
His kingdom was a land of superlatives:
The oldest civilization,
The largest standing army,
The largest population,
The largest exporter—of people,
The largest emitter of carbon dioxide,
Now the second largest exporter of goods, too,
And will soon be the largest.
Since his was the most populous kingdom,
Demography was his obsession,
Which he called his specialization.
Of course, Sultan had tried his best
To check population growth—
By means of family planning.
It didn't work.
So he curbed people’s Right to have children.
But still there was a huge difference
Between the optimum number
And ground reality!
Therefore, Sultan hatched a wonderful plan:
Started a war with a friendly neighbour.
Every section of twenty soldiers in his army
Had just one primitive rifle between them:
If a soldier went on,
He would be shot.
If he went back,
Again, he would be shot.
Many of his men were slaughtered.
But still Sultan won—by sheer numbers!
But the King did not believe in God.
Like king, like people!
But the dead soldiers were only a small number.
So, now another plan:
Government is the boss.
Let people overwork.
Sultan cracked the whip.
And a number of people died—
Of overwork, year after year.
Further reduction in population.
Cheap goods flooded the world market:
From PCs to push-up bras.
The economy boomed.
Ah, his kingdom became a Big Power!
But once some workers gathered
In the Capital and protested—
The name of Karl Marx was in the air.
“Listen,” Sultan roared, “Marx died—
So should you—now,
For raising his name in vain.”
So, still further reduction in population!
Now, when this narrative ended,
Sultan was busy, planning for another war.
How else could he solve the problem—
Copyright © Ram R. V. | Year Posted 2017
Harvey the Hippo
Harvey is a huge hippopotamus
Who bathes in a bay that is bottomless
HIs mouth is as large as a riverboat barge
And he weighs ten times more than a lot of us
Big Harvey isn’t nasty or troublesome
Nor like other guys who are double dumb
He just wanders around stomping the ground
Looking for pieces of bubble gum
Harvey owns a fine yellow cummerbund
And sewn on the back is the number one
He wears it right proudly and bellows quite loudly
While playing outside in the summer sun
Once Harvey met up with a crocodile
Together they decided to walk a mile
Near the shore they strolled, but the water got cold
So they sat down to talk on the dock a while
Eating Oreo cookies about four apiece
They talked about matters of war and peace
They discussed the economy, art, and astronomy
And the huge immigration of foreign geese
Then walking back toward his new shiny house
Harvey stopped for a chat with a tiny mouse
Her name was Du Barry; they decided to marry
And soon come a baby named Stanislaus
A handsome young child was Stanislaus
Dressed up in his fine silken Spanish blouse
They all had made history; this was no mystery
For Stan was the first Hippopotamouse
Huge Harvey adored his sweet ladylove
From her wee little feet to her head above
He brought her some strings and other fine things
Including a snowy white turtledove
Harvey has grown really mellow now
He seldom produces a bellow now
But if you’re down by the bay, you can still see him play
This wondrous and gentle old fellow now
Copyright © alan balter | Year Posted 2017
Lord, why is it that when we see articles about aborting your babies,
we move on to something else ... and even sometimes get angry?
Why do we argue among ourselves about that?
Is it true, even in these days of scientific break throughs,
that some of your people still believe that abortion
is not the killing of a Human Being?
Isn’t it strange that the killing of babies, which used to be considered evil
at one time, is now considered . .a right?
Even we that are graced enough to still deem it to be wrong, vote for abortion
proponents without a fight.
Knowing of the politician’s abortion voting record, why do
we vote for them anyway with some other excuse in mind?
Oh Lord when you return; .. just what will you find?
You said, “Love each other as I have loved you.”
...Will we argue with You also when our life here is through?
You see Lord we were only voting for the “ choice” to kill your babies.
Choice is the key word here, don’t you see?
I’m sure You must understand legality.
We wouldn’t kill them ourselves. We only pay others to do it with our taxes etc.
So if others I vote for push for laws to "legally" kill them,
what’s that got to do with me ?
I didn’t vote for them on that account, it had to do with the economy you see.
Am I my brother’s keeper? Besides, those babies have never met me.
You also said, Lord, “Seek ye the Kingdom of God and all else will be given unto you.”
Knowing what really happens when we vote for “choice”,
is that still seeking the Kingdom of God?
So Lord, I was thinking….. Your statement about Seeking the Kingdom of God …
..and all else shall be given unto you….. Is that choice too?
Is voting for politicians that we know push for more abortion rights....
Is that seeking the Kingdom of God .. if they call it "Choice" or "Women's rights"?
And if not … what will we get if we choose not to seek it
... you know... by voting for one
who has a record of pushing to kill Your babies.
Isn’t that our choice too? Do we get to vote on that, Lord?
I mean, You know, voting on what we want
that statement of Yours to mean?
Let us know about that okay, Lord?
I thought for sure you already had.
Thanks for your time Lord. I mean .. seriously …
Thanks for “YOUR Time.”
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2010
The ooze keeps flowing; bleeding, the earth cries,
"Someone help!! Stop the leaching; stop the black death!!"
Cover the wounds of greed, cover the sickness.
Help the innocent lives, being destroyed by this flow.
Pulsing, life of the USA, our heartbeat is weakening with each gallon lost.
Who will revive the country? Who is our super hero? Who has the courage?
Black gold has turned to our death.
**Thank God for our mothers, family and friends.
God in heaven, hear my plea, give the engineers the knowledge to stop the oil flow
into the Gulf and help the sea life to escape. Keep the people safe who work and live
on the coast and restore the economy of the USA. Forgive us our sins, keep us safe,
praise you for your blessings!! I pray in Jesus's name, Amen Thank you Jesus!!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse | Year Posted 2010
All I know is that it varies proportionally to the label on your jeans.
All I know is I get up in the morning and fall down at night.
All I know is what I can't see anymore is past, and what I'm afraid to see is future.
All I know is one man's Bach is another man's Zeppelin.
All I know is that it's unstable.
All I know is that it makes us realize what idiots we really are.
All I know is that it's like a lobotomy.
All I know is that it caused my parents to lose all of their brains.
All I know is that somehow my parents found them again, probably under the loveseat or something.
All I know is that my stereo works.
All I know is that it's something my friends do occasionally.
All I know is that I could lose more than everything.
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
All gift's delivered
Some few still under the tree,
Voices filled with thanks!
Children jumping with glee...
Now we sit and sigh
Making plans for the 4th of July,
And Valentine's day
and so many more
In celebration of something,
Another Birthday for someone we adore...
There is money to be spent,
In spite of the economy
We rework our budgets wishing we were worry free.
Ah, but someone was happy today
twas Christmas, 'twas Christmas,
Copyright © Cynthia Alvez | Year Posted 2012