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The Best Filthy Rich Poems
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Never wish for an easy life
Be prepared to endure a hard one.
You don’t have to own to enjoy something
To be twice as rich, halve your expenses.
Let me tell you a mind blowing principle.
“You don’t have to own something to enjoy it”
Instead of owning a pool,
We can park at the ocean for free water play
Instead of gym membership
We can enjoy kayaking, fishing or scuba diving
Of course via small rental payments.
There is another one, shocking but worth a while
“Lack of money buys freedom”.
If you’re filthy rich, enjoy limitless freedom
A dirt poor too enjoys pretty much freedom.
Now owning nothing but freedom only
To live full potential life without restrictions
If left alone with no rules to restrict you
You create beautiful things out of the garbage.
“Waste is the best” and think of John Keats
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever”
If you get that beauty, what more do you want?
+++
December 29, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Fifth Place win
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2014
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Filthy Rich Poem
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At the drop of a hat, your life could change
If you win the big jackpot of ten million
You'd have all the things you've ever wished for
And every day would be bright vermillion
With money to burn the world would be yours
You'd have nothing to hold you back
You could live like a king, demand anything
There'd be absolutely nothing you'd lack
Do you think you'd be the same sweet person
Or would money change who you are
Wouldn't mind finding out to tell the truth
Think I'd find the whole thing quite bizarre
Like to think I'd remain the same person
With both feet firmly planted on the ground
But money can change a person's perspective
And your whole life can turn upside down
Sure like to know how money would affect me
Would I become this financial tycoon
It really could swing either way I imagine
Could wind up just a filthy rich baboon
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
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Filthy Rich Poem
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I’ll tell you all a story, about when I was just a lad,
And me Mum and Dad were battling with the little that we had.
Dad was working at Yallourn and would travel there each day,
On his motorbike and sidecar, just to earn his weekly pay.
On weekends I’d help me father, mowing at the health centre.
He‘d hand across a couple of bob, and then become my mentor,
“Son don’t you waste this money. Save it for a rainy day!”
And I’d reply “No worries Dad!” Then blow most of it away.
But I had a go at saving, though me balance hardly grew,
With the little interest that I earnt, I’d have to say it’s true,
I’ll end up owing banks galore, ‘cause I’ll have to get a loan,
So I secretly called Grandpa from, the post office telephone.
You might wonder why I say, I have to make a secret call.
Well Dad and my Mum’s father just don’t get on at all,
For years there’s been a subject, on which my Dad has stewed,
That ended up so vicious and became a family feud.
At first I thought Dad’s jealous, ’cause Grandpa is filthy rich,
And if he cared about his daughter, at least he ought to pitch,
A couple of quid across to us that would put us on our feet.
But Grandpa said “Keep working hard; and hard times you will beat”.
I never knew the skeleton that’s hidden, on which my father stewed,
Or the reason what had caused us all, to be in this family feud,
Until Grandpa asked upon the phone, “Come down and visit Son,
Then I’ll explain how I got rich, after being close to skun”.
Grandpa had it all you know. A Rolls Royce and Mercedes Benz.
A swimming pool with diving board; of course gold plated pens.
His house was multi storied and he had some servants too.
I said “Grandpa, I’d like this. How do I get rich like you?”
“Well Son” he said, “It all began way back in thirty three,
When I never had a ‘razoo’, and ‘lo behold’ I found a penny.
And with that penny I invested. I bought an apple from a store.
I shined it for an hour and sold it for tuppence more”.
“And then I took that threepence, and went back to the store
And bought myself three apples, then shined them up some more,
And do you know by that day’s end, my goal I got to reach,
When I sold those apples one by one, and got threepence each”.
“Son I continued buying apples, and my business surely grew,
Six months further down the track, I had ten pound four and two.
Yes me fortune it grew daily, and then exploded yes it did
When your Grandma’s father died, and left us two million quid”.
©2004 Lindsay Laurie
Copyright © Lindsay Laurie | Year Posted 2015
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Overarching Genocide
Noah built the wooden Ark in his homeland instructed by God
to save his wife three sons and their wives from drowning a life
raft rescue boat of sorts with three decks and only one door and
two of each kind of animal species for rebuilding a habitat once the
floods had receded once the deluge had clearly stated its purpose
Lots of carpentry was involved and grafting and crafting carving out
new beginnings no coincidence maybe that Jesus became a carpenter
much later when he lived the Ark of the Covenant two tables of stone
commanding ten simple rules given to Moses telling us even today what
to do and what not to especially not to kill come hell and high water
Noah and his folks were olden day refugees displaced involuntary
migrants with only one choice to live or to perish make the best of
the threats vagaries of existence the dire message facing extinction
They were given the task to start again from scratch on a fresh even
footing to create new foundations not built on water not on quick sand
When the waters vanished the dust had settled and the door opened
wide the Ark is said to have balanced on the Mountain of Ararat or
maybe Mount Judi in South Eastern Anatolia close to nowadays’ Sirnak
a gruelling hot spot of guns and grenades tanks and fanatical killing with
flash floods of blood commandments forgotten only a trickle of kindness
God’s message was meant to last with Christians Jews and Muslims all
telling the story of the flood Tsunami quaking of earth trembling in awe
taking history and metaphor constitution of rights and of duties from
one place to the next from Ararat in the Armenian genocidal Highlands
to Yerevan Auschwitz Phnom Penh Mosul Sarajewo Kigali and Allepo
God might say ‘told you so but you would not listen’ and so we are
carrying on in our own wayward capricious intolerable disobedience
until we are swept away killing others in cold blood and also ourselves
when climate change melting ice carbon in ozone flood low lands
and self-righteous high grounds when God wants to save all of the lot
Could we not heed the call the signs on the tables life liberty and pursuit
of happiness ‘egalite liberte fraternite’ and apply those principles to
all women children and men many of which are enslaved in hunger
instead loose houses arms legs and dignity and a simple place to be
safe and secure tend to their gardens and families and pray to the God
Who is kind loving and compassionate but instead a deluded torrent of fight
and flight drives humans to give up the ghost or flee for their naked skin on
their impoverished backs in long death marches from Sirnak shelled and
not sheltered by descendants of Noah in dinghies over the seas to Greece
Italy Malta and onwards to a filthy rich Europe that does not contain them
‘It was not me’ who stood by when Ottomans killed Armenian Christians
when Jews Slavs Sinti and Roma were gassed in genocidal crematoria
when Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge assembled mountains of torture and skulls
when Saddam Hussein applied chemical warfare and ethnic cleansing
when Sarajewo was besieged from the hills by Bosnian and Serbian Serbs
When Tutsis were murdered by Hutus in a rage of mindless systematic rape
slaughter mutilation and covered in banana leaves to avoid being spotted
by aerial photography supplied by a fig leaf of conscience draped by a world
refusing to listen to acknowledge chose instead to ignore cast a blind eye
Today it is Syria but let us not forget Yemen Sudan Somalia and the Congo
And ‘it was not me I am merely an innocent bystander’ covered in blood
smirched and discredited disgraced and yet responsible at least by proxy
But who was and is it then failing to act in deed not only in words surely
it is neither Noah who shouldered the oceans who fled and took refuge
nor is it God who’s to blame ‘it is me after all’ who should build Noah’s Ark
Finalised on 27th August 2016
Contest: Take That Dagger From My Heart Please II
First entered into contest 'Noah's Arc
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Fell out of a limousine
Drunk out of mind
Spoiled
Filthy rich
Child
In time
He loved
All his toys
Then a woman
Showed him other joys
Sweet, just close your eyes
On champagne dreams
Wearing butlers shined black laced shoes
Away they went
From here to the moon
In love, their passion heaven sent
Taking the train ride of ones life
Bubble baths, there is no more strife
Pleasures surround you everywhere
Magical is the feeling of loves truthful desires
Falling in, like two young doves
New York City bombed
Devastation lingers in the air
No more love stories
Only dead widows and widowers
As infants tears fall on rainy graves
Now I, Arthur
Alone
Cringe
Staring out my window
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2017
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Wasn't Robin Hood born with noble blood,
what made him betray royalty?
He had a grudge against Prince John!
As a bodyguard, he was loyal
to King Richard, but despised
the greedy and unfair Sheriff.
According to English folklore:
he was an outlaw, a skilled archer,
he became a legend in his own town.
I doubt if any Englishman of the era,
would remember him as their own
if he hadn't been the selfless one,
taking everything from the filthy rich,
who daily engaged in a-eat-drink-binge,
he gave all back to the starving poor.
Had he not taken their side and avenged,
the peasants would have felt anger
and fought against him and his King.
Now, see Robin Hood in a different light:
lacking humor, grit and self-confidence,
not feeling compassion for the lowly
who cultivated farms and provided swine,
bread and wine for those royal tables.
He could have threatened them with vile words,
" Give me all your grains, vegetables and fruits;
your fowls, your chickens and pigs for my banquet! "
Load them on my wagon, don't hesitate and refuse:
my arrows don't miss targets, save your lives! "
And with intimidation they would appease him.
But Mariam would rise from her grave protesting,
" My husband isn't a villain as you describe him,
he saved my king and my father and tried to save me
from Guy of Gisbournue! Hail to him who revenged
many injustices in favor of the ones who trembled
at clanking swords! Hail to him who reunited England! "
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016
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Filthy Rich Poem
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1.Fill me up, I am always lacking.
Consumption, the name of the game.
The hunger devours the horse,
fattens me to the core.
I'm about to burst...
Always empty,
yet full of
loveless
fear.
2. My my what a big piece of the pie!
Pension raiders anonymous.
We live to carry secrets,
yearning to fill this need.
Profit devotees
live a life of
penniless
loveless
fear.
3. I mean honest to God, what's the point?
We're all gonna die...why bother?
I may as well just sit here
wallowing in despair,
a quiet, lonely,
unproductive
slacker. A
loveless
fear.
4. You want the goods? I'll give you the goods!
Come here baby and say hello.
How easy is it to come
to life, awe inspiring
mother to us all
prostituting
shame, guilt, and
loveless
fear.
5. Mirror mirror on the bathroom wall.
Am I pretty enough to be
a beauty queen? Parade me
around in fancy cars.
I must protect my
reputation
hinged on a
loveless
fear.
6. Grass is greener on the other side.
Why wouldn't it be? These neighbors
are so filthy rich with their
hundred thousand dollar
landscaping jobs and
mansions built on
envious
loveless
fear.
7. In the end there was always hatred,
deeply seated, mindless, blind rage.
Searching for a suitable
target. Lies built on lies.
Ready to explode:
unforgiving,
merciless,
loveless
fear.
By all means, you sinless wretch
Go ahead, live on cloud nine!
But I can't share in your euphoric state of ecstasy...
I just don't feel that way about myself
never have
never will
*dedicated to Kevin Spacey and his love of all things sinful.
Copyright © Yoni Dvorkis | Year Posted 2009
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Filthy Rich Poem
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© 2009 (Jim Sularz)
Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, by wagon, train or foot.
Days not all that long ago, in tall ships made of wood.
“A gold rush struck in ’49, all quite by accident.
A burning fever that cut men to bone, in a sea of dingy tents.
Day and night, they toiled and told, many headed home without a cent.
But some packed out bags of glistening gold, and made a stop at Buzzard’s Breath.
The town’s mud logged street, deep with horse manure, bubbled like a shallow grave.
With a Sheriff’s office, a livery stable, and a church for souls to save.
And a fancy house, on a grassy knoll – sign read, “Madam Lil la Tart”.
With soft, curvaceous ladies who mined for hearts – and gold of a different sort.
Didn’t take long before easy gold, was extremely hard to find.
And burly miners, tough as steel, moved in to hard rock mine.
With bloodied knuckles, dented hats, they blasted at a furious pace.
To find the gold, called the mother lode, yellow blood coursing through their veins!
The mine they worked was called “Long Shot”, the men thought that name a curse.
But the miners hankered for the handle, “Buzzard’s Breath”, and the mine’s name was reversed.
As luck would say, they held a royal flush, when they hit that horse-wide vein.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found, this side of the Pearly Gates.
Eyes wide as saucers, they were all in awe, everyone was filthy rich.
The miners should have all retired and should have cashed in all their chips.
But a man’s hard to figure, when his blood is yellow, and he’s stricken with a gold fever.
“Eureka! boys, git the dynamite and a whole lot more mining timbers!”
They mined that vein to the bowels of the earth, and the heat increased by day.
Buzzard’s Breath became the hottest place, to Hell – the shortest way.
And then one day, the men never came back. – Hell must have jumped that claim.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found – that’s where the Devil mines today!”
Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, died a slow and quiet death.
Along with days of tall wooden ships, and the ghosts of Buzzard’s Breath.
Copyright © Jim Sularz | Year Posted 2016
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Filthy Rich Poem
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How To Get Rich From Gambling
By Elton Camp
Probabilities is what gambling is all about
With enough trials, probability will work out
Though gambling will put most in the ditch,
There also is a way from it to get filthy rich
Chances stay the same for each random event
Ignore that and wonder where your money went
This, the gambler’s mind may almost derange
It’s not true that “My luck is bound to change.”
If you flip a coin & get heads 100 times in a row
The probability for tails is still one-half, though
It is a very foolish and dangerous logical slip
To think as if the coin has some memory chip
A certain slot machine hasn’t paid off for a year
Should you rush to use it if that fact you hear?
No matter what some people will insist to say
The odds are no better than on the first day
So for getting rich these facts don’t bode too well
But how wealth can be achieved I will now tell
If you want to keep your financial matters straight,
Then it’s the gambling house you must operate
It’s true that gamblers may make an occasional win,
But nearly all will just lose it back to the house again
So if, of the casino, you are the wealthy owner
Only then will your money not soon be a goner
Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2011
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Filthy Rich Poem
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The devil done put a new face
on an old sales technique
It's brash, it's bold
It's tricky sweet
But it tastes sour, this maggot treat
He swapped the fresh for the spoiled meat
Had to bait the trap good,
hide the kill switch under the hood
Alternative facts is the new money wood
This new source of energy lies
beneath methane colored skies
Smells kinda putrefied,
smells like somebody died
Fracked up those new found lies
Alternative facts is the new dung
polluting the skies
But you still gotta sell it to the people
as sweet-smelling pecan pies
You gotta know how to
bait the trap good,
hide the kill switch under the hood
Alternative facts is the new money wood
Turning truth into lies
requires filthy lucre ... this has always been understood
Bait and switch,
don't give 'em what they agreed to get
Spoiler alert: this truth-teller is gonna snitch
Those alternative facts being piped into your homes
is gonna make somebody filthy rich
Bait and switch,
don't give 'em what they agreed to get
Give 'em the old landfill reservation trick;
so when you enter your latrine, you better watch where you sit
Check the fine print on the sales agreement,
you'll find you bought yourself a pile of excrement
Historical footnote: The Australian government removed Aborigines, the first natives, from their ancestral lands that was rich w/natural resources such as gold, silver and oil. They placed them in Central Australia on barren ground reservations atop toxic landfills. The American government did similar treatment to Native Americans.
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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Filthy Rich Poem
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You're not going to see my
picture
on the cover of a magazine
And as far as worldwide travel
goes
here's the only place I've been.
Now I'm not looking for an oil
man,
investment banker or movie
star
But I'll be damned if I'm willing
to play
the part at a 2:00 am closing
bar.
Girls talk just like boys talk
and we know all your corny
lines
About going ugly early and
getting prettier at closing time
We watch you step up to the
plate
And then swing at every pitch
Tell us what you think we want
to hear
Pretend that you're filthy rich.
A word to the wise to all those
guys
Who still play this silly game
Being male does not exclude
you
From the morning walk of
shame.
Copyright © Joe Murphy | Year Posted 2014
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Filthy Rich Poem
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If you could read my mind you'd know that I'd never talk
And if I could stretch a mile you'd know that I'd never walk
But I've got to get up to go to work to my nine to five
To keep the pace in this rat race I have to survive
But this minimum wage pay will never help me out Lord
So I need more cause I want more than I can afford
(Channel)
Cause all my friends are driving Benz's and wearing expensive clothes
With bigger houses and finer foods so this is my status in quo
I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
Can you see it in my eyes, its written on my face
Give me this, give me that and I don't want to wait
But I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
And uh~ beer money, and uh~ wine taste
Always make me wanna haste but that leads to waste
So I'm praying for some patience and little more grace
With my~ beer money and my~ wine taste (Chorus)
But my money and my patience's short, the line is long
And when things start looking right in life what's left is wrong
I need extra strength this and I need fast relief that
Someone call western union hurry cause I need some cash
To pay my debts and all my bills, I'm planning to buy a lot
Because I'm always wanting something that I just don't got
(Channel)
Cause all my friends are driving Benz's and wearing expensive clothes
With bigger houses and finer foods so this is my status in quo
I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
Can you see it in my eyes, its written on my face
Give me this, give me that and I don't want to wait
But I've got beer money, I've got wine taste
And uh~ beer money, and uh~ wine taste
Always make me wanna haste but that leads to waste
So I'm praying for some patience and little more grace
With my~ beer money and my~ wine taste (Chorus)
(Bridge)
I need designer hats and jeans,
A limousine on the scene
To keep up with the Jones;
I need some precious stones.
I want to be in the spotlight
In restaurants day and night
With the means to these ends nonstop;
I wanna be filthy rich so I can shop.
(Chorus)
Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2006
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Filthy Rich Poem
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To the Go
To persuade or control, the primary role, why sell your soul to reach a goal, you digging a bigger hole, that’s not how it goes
We must preserve the souls, reverse the roles, balance the poles, and study what grows cause energy goes where attention flows
To destroy or rebuild? What’s the reasons you kill? You would say that you REAL But ni**a you frail, and I could bet you a bill or I could bet you a meal
Check the deal
Robbery, persons, places, and things
We’re all of Royalty, so why you robbing the kings?
I didn’t hire you fire you mis-educate you or lie to you
I think we both know who did that, see you just scared to react
(Cause) when the slave catcher comes to put you in chains and lock you away
you don’t bust ya gun
YOU JUST RUN
When he comes to split the family, like auction ya children off
You just let him, and claim it’s the law such a coward, so cowardly so
They leave ya hood filthy rich, suit and tie and you just let them go
You Know What Your Problem Is and Let It Be Clear, It’s FEAR
Copyright © Shujaa Sinless | Year Posted 2015
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Guess what? Another true story,
About a beautiful dame called Corrie.
Her allurement enraptured all men folk,
I did say this was a true story and not a joke?
Her tight dress and peachy ***, men would cry and plea,
Even blind Jim stopped, pulled down his glasses, willing himself to see.
When she walked the clock would stop to hear the tick tock of her heels,
Believe me this woman was dripping with sex appeal.
Every morning Corrie went into town to get her sick father’s pills,
She knew when she got them; one of the men would offer to pay the bills.
Now there was an evil merchant filthy rich had lent her father money,
It was time for him to pay up or he would take this honey (the daughter).
But to be a sport he conjured up a devious deal,
When he proposed the deal, it made her father feel more ill.
The merchant said “I have a bag and will put two stones in it.”
One white, the other black and here is the deal if you may permit?
“If your beautiful daughter picks the white stone,”
“You debt will be cancelled and you can take her home.”
“If it’s the black, I will cancel what you owe me,”
“But your daughter will be my bride you see.”
The ill father protested at first then gave in,
As they stood in town her father begged her to win.
Now while every man was looking at the divine girl,
She, the only one saw the merchant place two black stones, and so the bag he did fill.
She shook with horror as she picked a stone, thinking as she frowned
Then suddenly dropped the stone on the ground
The merchant raged “Now how are we to know which stone you took out?”
“Look in the bag and the one left will tell you what I chose” she did shout.
Everyone focused on the bag to see if she’d wed him or not,
The black one his hand reaches in and got.
Her father’s eyes lit up and he screamed with delight
His debt cancelled and she wouldn’t marry this merchant two foot in height.
She remains the tester of men’s hearts today,
They are mesmerised by her *** and they way she make it sway.
*Lateral thinking E. Bono*
Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet | Year Posted 2010
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Grinning Like a Possum
By Elton Camp
The president seems to be well pleased
At the last second, victory he seized
The filthy rich will fork over more
The middle class about as before
His enemies blocked him at every turn
So this tax struggle was hard to earn
The wealthy may well fume and cuss
But there’s fewer of them than of us
Four hundred thousand is quite enough
Even paying more, it shouldn’t be tough
Perhaps they might even economize
Swap the Rolls Royce for a smaller size
So their depleted funds are better spent
With only a single mansion be content
They can still have plenty of fun
Lying about, enjoying Grey Poupon
And, according to what I see & hear,
The prez is grinning from ear-to-ear
Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2013
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Filthy Rich Poem
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REST HAVEN
Halloween Nght on a dare
With strange music in the air
I seek out a single tomb
Oh ghastly is the full moon
Old Cyrus Jones lay buried
Filthy rich never married
Had no one close no doting kin
Couldn’t stand the likes of him
Twas said he killed his own dad
Only friend he ever had
Gold was the evil reason
Old age the killing season
Hark! Atop that distant pile
A fiddler stands to play a while
Bowing strong in minor key
Witch-Goblin jamboree
Old Cyrus played so they say
Seldom stopped neither night nor day
Drove all his neighbors half-mad
When he died they most were glad
But now it seems he’s risen
Shot up from that dark prison
The shroud he wears fraught with gore
Inner only bones in store
Summoning a ghostly hoard
Those cast out by our dear Lord
They dance they prance rattle bones
Here am I so far from home
My fervent prayers do no good
Music foul within my blood
Dance I must lost I am
Joined in revel with the damned
See the sight on All Souls Night
Cold moon streaming full and bright
Wolves have come to howl OWooooooooo!
Hitler Stalin Satan too!
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2010
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Everyone warns you of the darkness.
But no one tells you whats in there.
Have you seen the monster in the closet or under the bed?
That's me.
I am the darkness.
I am the monster hiding waiting for you.
Truth is I'm human,
I'm just like you.
I just think different.
Look around the darkness is all around us.
Whether it's the filthy rich person,
the family that's barely making it,
We're all monsters.
Sucked into the darkness
Copyright © Janelle Dias | Year Posted 2015
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Filthy Rich Poem
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You made a lot of money
selling lewd photos of nude
Then you parlayed your profits
into cyber surfing —
triple X cinema ***** crude
Nasty video sex business you were so into
Your vested interest was
a skin flick portfolio bankroll ...
Dirty money bottom line
Letting curious customers
put their cyber bit coins into the virtual pay slot
So they can take a ride on the carnal carousel
Then make them get off ...
Have them taste naked flesh boiling hot
in an abominable lascivious pot
You are so proud of yourself,
Mr. Sleazy bit coin billionaire
You make it so easy —
sex suckers love to lick poisoned lollipop sticks
Getting minds addicted to wicked desires,
those tempting tokens are gonna take ‘em there
You’re so filthy rich cavalier ...
crushing souls, you really don’t care
What those turned-out cyber tramps,
hopefully, will come to one day understand,
those grimy bit coins
is greasing somebody’s dirty hand
And that palm is on a beach somewhere
getting a penthouse triple X suntan
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty old man
with a Howard Weinstein leer
Bit coin billionaire,
you got sticky floor hands
and semen oil slick hair
Spreading your cyber surfing
triple X flotsam everywhere
You’re just a devilish voyeur,
a nickel-and-dime fleshpot billionaire
Your trashy ways smells like
a STD flea-bitten garbage can
And your infectious craves are a
CDC health hazard quarantine
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty money man
with semen snake oily hands
Bit coin billionaire,
with filthy green scaly skin
In need of some brimstone lotion
Bit coin billionaire,
you’re a dirty money man
with sticky floor hands
Bit coin billionaire,
with filthy lucre ashy skin
In need of a brimstone suntan
This poem was inspired by the
talented Richard Lamoureux’s poem,
“Church Perfect Surface.”
— Romantic Warrior
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Filthy Rich
____________________________
Bacon wrapped, filet minion
Beurre Blanc , or Sabayon
caviar so delicate
on your tongue, you wont forget.
Crystal and golden spoons
don't forget the tea at noon
for your name, an abbreviation
don't forget the reservation.
A brand new car in the drive
my own pool, in which I dive
all new clothes, every stitch
how satisfying, to be rich.
(I however am not rich lol) 5/21/14-Jessica Thompson
Copyright © Jessica Thompson | Year Posted 2014
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Filthy rich
Filthy rich now control the poor,
Howards contracts will hurt 4 sure,
Government cleaners by the contract blest,
$200 less in their poor pay packets,
Per week im telling you,
Pick on the poor these scum will too,
A greed of hogs attack,
Morality died in days of old,
Todays scumbags would sell your soul,
No decency, in fact, the greed 4 bloody gold?
Don Johnson
Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2014
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Filthy Rich Poem
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How, oh how, can some endow
A building wing? Well, holy cow!
So many millions must impress
All comers, thanks to their largess.
Such lavish generosity
Is well beyond the scope of me,
For sums like that I won’t pretend
Are numbers I can comprehend.
Yet so much more than any bank
These benefactors we should thank,
For their donations help us out
And that’s what giving’s all about.
Of course, they get some tax deducted
When their building wing’s constructed.
Plus, they get their just acclaim
When on the walls, we view their name.
Endowments, though, will hardly drain
The cash their bank accounts contain.
It must be nice to scratch that itch
And give, but still be filthy rich!
Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2015
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Filthy Rich Poem
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Barbie On the Dating Site
By Elton Camp
“Hello, guys, here’s my picture for you to see.
You will note, I’m slim and as cute as can be.”
“If it’s that I have no money you are supposin’
I’m actually filthy rich from as a model posin’
“I have the most beautiful long, blonde hair
And my complexion is pleasing and very fair.”
“I, at one time, was in a long-term relationship,
But to another doll my handsome Ken did slip.”
The picture Barbie posts is how she used to appear
Since it was made, there has passed many a year
But maybe the man she meets won’t be troubled
To find that cute Barbie’s size has nearly doubled
Copyright © Elton Camp | Year Posted 2012
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Filthy Rich Poem
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On June 25, 1962 prayer was taken out of school
It was like losing a ring's precious jewel
If you look into America's history
You will find that it is no mystery
From that date on we haven’t been as strong
I believe we have done something terribly wrong
What they teach in history books simply overlooks
Important information that has raised up a blind generation
Youth, family, education, and national life is far from the same
We have lost morals and values that our forefathers firmly proclaimed
A Blessed Nation under God we have always been
But in the last 50 years it has become destroyed by an abundance of sin
Divorce rate is at an all-time high
While so many children grow up fatherless and wonder why
Gang violence increases each day
Teenage pregnancy has become a common way
Young people search for love in all the wrong places
Leaders in government wear faulty faces
Role models have become extinct
Technology while good has caused many jobs to sink
A nation rife with perjury
Broken marriage covenants In need of surgery
Unforgiveness extortion bribery slander and profanity
We need God to restore us too sanity
Hypocrisy, and lawsuits initiated solely for revenge and personal gain
Doing things are own way has caused us much pain
The rich are getting richer and the poor sit back and cry
People have lost their integrity yet shake their fists at the sky
If you want to learn open a bible and begin to read
If we listened to its wisdom we wouldn’t have so much need
We have become too liberal as a whole
Besides having so much debt, we are all losing our souls
If anyone talks about God in school they risk losing their profession
Yet more and more young people suffer from anxiety and depression
Many are on medication making doctors filthy rich
So many people are dying in their own emotional ditch
Statistically we are on a downward spiral
Many people turn their heads or just live in denial
History is important to learn
For it shows us how quickly society can turn
We all have to answer to God someday
And if I were you I would start to learn his way
For if we are going to continue to be America the best
We have to take a moment to address
All the ways we have allowed this country to slip
Take personal responsibility and restore our spiritual grips
Weneed to take back the people's power
We are living in a crucial hour
If we don’t open our eyes ears and mouths we will fall instead of just bend
who knows this time if this damage we can mend.
by: Sabina nicole
Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2012
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Filthy Rich Poem
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"I Could Be Rich"
By: Andrew Stroud
Life is full of challenges,
And struggles along the way,
some days are filled with sunshine,
while others are cold and gray....
I happen to live in both at once,
The best and the worst,
Because while I have the best friends I could ask for,
My love life is forever cursed.
Women say they hate "players",
So I stay loyal and do not cheat,
But then they still break up with me,
Because they say that I'm too sweet.
But isn't that what women complain about,
that they can't find one good guy?
And they still go back to the jerks,
while the good guys wonder why.
All of this confuses me,
but one thing is very clear,
I could be filthy rich,
if I could make losing women my career.
Copyright © ANDREW STROUD | Year Posted 2014
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Filthy Rich Poem
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John Howard,
No GST ever, if you vote me for Prime Minister
Remove tax from petrol
Change the word tax to levy and increase the levy to 48%
John Faye,
The average Australian should not be able
To afford a car or a house
John Howard,
Child overboard
Oh no, my advisers got it wrong
But it got Little Johnny voted back in
Just so he could outsource
The Australian job market
Make the Rich, filthy Rich
Remove middle class
And the Poor, become Poorer
Kevin 07
Apologizes to Australia's Indigenous peoples
Build a town for asylum seekers
Leads the revolution on education
Dives in, too fast, when insulating
Australians against the cold
Lets his soft heart over-rule
His heads when it comes to rules for refugees
Julia
Carbon tax here I come
After taxing the mega rich so they charge
Australians more for their products
Lady PM found the stolen generation
And made it a new business
While killing Liberal’s Work Choices
Julia is no Celebrant, Wayne Swan is no witness
But the government recognizes gays as
People with partners and taxes them accordingly
Julia will not preside over anyone’s wedding vows
She leaves that to the church
And lets the Pope interpret the Bible
To recognize same-sex marriages
Kevin Election
Abolish carbon tax
Palm off asylum seekers
Tony for PM
Ladies
Bare foot in the kitchen
All businesses are
Franchises or Chain Shops
Scrap family-owned business
Enforce all Little Johnnies policies
And make the Rich, Mega-rich
Confused?
Well don’t be
Let’s revert to
The mate system
Where mates look after mates
You can afford to go the pub for a beer
The electricity and gas bill is lower than the
IQ of a Politician
You can afford a new car every 2 years
Your house mortgage is paid off
Me Mate, The Prime Minister
Vote for Gordy
He’s unemployed and needs a job
*****knows what he’ll do
Hell knows how he’ll do it
But I guarantee we will all
Have one hell of a party doing it
Bare foot in the kitchen or wherever
It will be memorable
Time to vote
Time to party
Give Gordon Andrews your Vote
Me Mate, The Prime Minister
(c)2013 Gordon Andrews
Copyright © Gordon Andrews | Year Posted 2013