Best Free Enterprise Poems


Premium Member A Dream

Let there be no hidden or disguised facades
Let there be achievable dreams; not hopeless mirages
Let there be no sorry but sunny days of happy faces
Let there be no hatred and separation between the races
Let there be an abundance of bright lights and starry starry nights

Let there be a fully promoted and always protected Bill of Rights
Let there not be assaults of, but encouragement of Free Enterprise
Let there be more Term Limits of politicians and less special privileges
Let there be the exaltation of the individual
Let there be the expansion of Entrepreneurship 
Let there be no loss but multiplied gains of greatness

May politicians always be servants of, and not superior to the people
May I not be afraid of 'my government', but may it be 'afraid of me'
May the constitution be upheld, and all religions free to teach and tell
May justice be freely served and never a mortal abused or unnerved
May the Bible not be seen as a threat, but a friendly guide to paradise
May every American be filled with hope, and duly take note;
America's future and hope lie far above and beyond the vote

111120PSCtest, 2021 United States Of America Visionary Poetry,                           L Milton Hankins, Sponsor. NA

Premium Member What Is Christmas

A time of many lights to see,
Of tinsel, garland and wreath's so fair.
Of hundreds of bulbs upon a tree,
With twinkling lights and angel hair.

A festive time with thoughts of Santa Clause,
Of jingle bells, and distant sounds of sleighs.
From the daily rush we're in, we pause,
Remembering once more our childhood days.

The time for eggnog and a cozy fire,
Have the Christmas story and often games.
Of candy canes, children never seem to tire,
While watching a Yule log's flickering flame.  

A time for the hanging of  mistletoe,
The singing of carols and children at play.
A time of merriment and places to go.
To many, these are this holiday.

For early mall arrival and long lines,
To retrieve that last gift before we rest.
Parking lot disagreements, fights and fines,
We're seeing free enterprise at its best.

Of bells and kettles in the mall,
With scent's of baked goods and pines.
While searching for gifts for one and all,
We encounter rudeness and sold out signs.

Christmas can be like this, it's true,
But lest we forget this time of year.
Let's look at things from a different view,
As the birthdate of the Christ child dear.

In a twinkling stars five points I see,
Two arms, two legs, a head.
I see the cross in a Christmas tree,
Where a Savior hung and bled.

In the manger scene I'm taken back,
To the place the Christ child lay.
I view the gifts in Santa's sack,
As those the wise men brought that day.

In a simple wreath of vines I see,
A crown of thorns that Jesus wore.
Of a scourging he once took for me,
And of man's sin that at Calvary he bore.

Within each candle seen glowing bright,
One thought comes to my mind.
That in my world He's still my light,
God's precious gift to all mankind.

In a candy cane of white and red,
I see His body without sin.
The crimson, being where he bled,
So that man might be born again.


Then looking into a yule log set aflame,
Unable to imagine the torment one will feel.
If living life as though Jesus never came,
Only to discover at death, that Hell is real.
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member China's Rise

Those in the know surmise
   that China's rise
   dares coincide
   with America's slide
off the road of free enterprise


In God We Antitrust

Solomon said:
“when the righteous are in authority
the people rejoice,
when the wicked beareth rule
the people mourn.” We have

ten thousand arms reaching out
from the body of free enterprise,
growing longer and thinner;
stretched beyond elastic limit
by politicians and financiers
who feed the hungry beast
on corporate welfare and consumer greed.

Then in twos threes fours and more
the arms must merge
to collectively find the strength
to perpetuate a dream
that delivers to a generation hence
a monumental debt.

1984 and Beyond

I awake to the sound of birds singing.  A faint memory of my dreamworld still      remains, the feeling of being held under water at a FEMA " Re-education" camp.  I wonder if reoccurring  nightmares mean anything ?  Probably not.
     I'm so happy that Hitlary Clinton won the election.  The New York Times article "Uranium One Deal" that proved Hitlary's sinister ties to Russia turned out to be "Fake News" according to Hitlary.  Now I go to work at the factory wearing a collar around my neck that protects me and all my fellow citizens from "Terrorists".  All of the law abiding citizens wear collars that track everything we do, everywhere we go, everything we say.  That way all terrorists will be removed immediately from our peaceful society. The collar also gives an electric shock for those lazy workers of the New World Order who aren't doing their fair share of the work required by law.
    The government gives us all that we could ever want.  Shelter, food, and medical care.  Bicycles, guns, motorcycles, swimming, hiking, sports, Marijuana, even bouncing on a Trampoline are too dangerous for a good, productive citizen of the New World Order.  Cars aren't allowed because of Global Warming ! 
     It's the law for women to be a hard worker AND stay pregnant.  No evil sex allowed, just artificial insemination from genetically superior males.  It's so important to have a genetically pure race.  The hard, 16 hr. per day, 7 days per week factory labor has a high turnover rate.    Lots of workers have to be permanently replaced. The need for a constant supply of New World Order babies never ends!  
    The government censors all movies, news, and schooling to promote peace and tolerance for all.  The two movies we are allowed to watch "World Peace" and "Evils of Free Enterprise"  are my favorite.  Under Obamacare,  after age 45, everyone is taken to the "Healing Hospital", never to be seen again. 
    The sound of birds singing reminds me of a time long past, but I can't remember it.  Something about a U.S. Constitution ? That's ok, I'm a proud member of the New World Order !

3/15/2017 poetry contest 1984 or 2017, sponsored by Debbie Guzzi

A Clown In It's Diamond Studded Golden Suit

Enjoying their finest cuisine city aside this sea; the crux....
Sipping vintage time their mother's pride ancient wine refined
Patrimonial pillage piece de resistance his father's free enterprise ?


All In the Name of Progress 1st Addition

The wrecking ball long since
     demolished boyhood house zen
located at 324 Level Road,
     a once rural residence,
     which soulful yen
I called home
     since February 28th, 1968, when

Boyce and Harriet Harris
     (my octogenarian
     widower father, a transplanted urban
cowpoke father, and late outskirts
     of poker flats mother) than
experienced livingsocial in the country,

      cuz aforesaid domain didst span,
and encompass,
     one hundred plus acre estate
     listed in national register
     as "Glen Elm", where ran
woodland surrounding a golden pond

     favored by Canadian Geese,
     but under game plan
of commercial developer Donald Neilson
     (a tall lumbering 
     "all business no play doh" man

blueprints drafted for
     an army of vinyl city
     exemplifying Little boxes
     on the hillside ditty
Little boxes made of ticky tacky...gritty
material upending wildlife refuge,
     ah...what a pity

yet, impossible to stop industrialization,
     the das capital way
spurring thy preferential longing
     for nature preservation oye vey,
and to make a million bucks in USA

if land left off limits
     for propertied class today
then in the near future,
     an aggressive builder will sashay

confirming prophecy     
     scooping up gobs of profit
     out maneuvering competition
     analogous to a marathon relay
race quickly witnessing little boxes
     to sprout all the same

     by construction workers,
     who hammer away,
nailing steady income,
     viz all work and no play,
who maxim eyes

     American middle class dream
     asper buying affordable home
     after acquiring a mortgage to outlay
their limited choice sans, may
be there's a green one and a pink one

and a blue one and yellow one, how zing
free enterprise, and they're
     all made out of ticky tacky
     held together on a wing
and prayer they all look

Premium Member Peace

Paradoxical man:
Seeks peace 
In vain things


Exploits others
For personal gain;
Calls it progress


Fights change,
Loves the status quo;
Makes excuse for war


Wants fair play
Mistreats others;
Chains of free enterprise


Uses lofty terms
Love and compassion;
Hostile takeover


Wars kill people
Both sides slaughtered;
Peaceful cemeteries


We say we want peace
But we prepare for war;
Small wonder then


So much chaos
Ego blood shed;
Peace in the afterlife


Violence seeds
Yet more violence;
All are guilty



Leon Enriquez
05 August 2014
Singapore

Why?

GREEDY AGENTS, 
FORECLOSERS ON THE RISE. 
BITTER DISAGREEMENTS, 
BEWARE OF SENSELESS DEMISE. 
TOTAL PRIVACY INVASION, 
INSTANT MESSAGE TEXTIN'. 
REFUGEE ALIENATION, 
BIG-BROTHER'S WATCHING. 
GROWING CHILD BIRTH DEFECT, 
THE WORLD'S IN QUAGMIRE. 
GLOBAL GREENHOUSE-EFFECT, 
RAGING FOREST FIRE. 
RECORD-BREAKIN' HEAT WAVES, 
THE OZONE-LAYER'S CRACKING. 
TRAFFIC OF HUMAN SLAVES, 
FREEMAN'S JUST WATCHING? 
FREE-ENTERPRISE ROBBIN' FOLKS BLIND, 
WHO'S THE REAL HUSTLER? 
SO-CALLED NEWSWORTHY GUIDE, 
MINDS FLOATIN' IN ETHER. 
GREEN-EYED GUERRILLAS, 
ALL-OUT PLAYIN' FOR KEEPS. 
VAIN INDULGENCE IN SPAS; 
USURY PILING IN HEAPS. 
MISSIONS BEING COMPROMISED, 
BY ARTIFICIAL INTELIGENCE. 
GOD-SEEKERS ATTACKED BY SURPRISE, 
MAYBE DOOMSDAY HAS COMMENCED.

Premium Member Such Hypocrisy

I have lived through
the greatest generations
of American achievement,
And it saddens me to read
how so many Americans
are in bereavement
For what they consider to be
the dying days
of our enterprising democracy,
While they live
in splendorous comfort
Because of our free enterprise—
such hypocrisy! 

Written July 2, 2022

Premium Member Free Enterprise

Supermarkets stay open
   The corner grocer can't
His plans, hopes and dreams
   All crushed like an ant's

Big box retail has income from selling its wares
   As the little guy quietly tears out his hair
His door must stay closed; those are the rules --
   of free enterprise in the land of the cruel

Ravening Revised

There is greed that guts a forest
And the ocean's briny span
And will lay a sprawling pipeline
Where the cariboo once ran.
It will force big debt on students
And beguile them with the ruse
That the jobs come quick to graduates
In whatever field thy choose.
Workers straining to accomplish
Every pile-on added chore
In the name of competition
Yet they earn not one buck more.
Products made for obsolescence
And sore financed to the hilt
Giving little satisfaction
As we know just how they're built.
Governors will speak of progress
And new programs with a heart 
Soon just horse-trades for more power
And the Press will play its part.
There is more in each endeavour
But sad little will improve
As the bottom line of business
Cracks the whip and gives the shove.
Yes free enterprise we call it
Golden brain-child of the West
But I sense value for value
Suits our souls and cities best.
© Doug Blair  Create an image from this poem.

May Day Prayer - Short, Then Long

I
We celebrate Labor (LABOUR)
This year, with more PRAYER

II
I prayed briefly for my country, the people
Singing the "Pater Noster" - FATHER IN HEAVEN:
In the wee hours, as I awoke, thankful
As born-again believers ought to feel, say ...
As we arise, for He kept us alive, for today

III
Talking to Father, Son, and Spirit -
Perhaps a delusion, akin to your own
Worshiping Capitalism, as a Market Force
More Holy than socialism, glorifying
Free Enterprise (Only gains are free for taking;
When markets fall, tax bails them out, saving
Face of "Free Enterprise," to the tune of trillions)
So my DELUSION gives me peace, no harm to you:
Thank you Jesus for Salvation, favor, and forgiveness
And RESTORING what man lost; waters & Forests
Especially the image inside us: we have so prostituted
For a plate of soup, like Esau, who we saw trade heritage
For a mess of pottage; not caviar or LEAN, but lentils -
Abba-Father in Heaven, HOLY is thy Name, hallowed be thy Name
Give us this day, our daily bread & COMMUNION
I want to see His Face, the face of favor and Grace
The Face of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Master, too
Holy is thy Name, O hallowed be thy Name
Help me forgive OTherS, as I've been forgiven
Abba-Father in Heaven - and help us through this virus
Bless my country and folk, bless the global village
We repent of our sins; Help us Holy Spirit
Teach us the right way; You are the Teacher Given
Rauch-HaKodesh, the Spirit of God, Spirit of Truth
Who recalls for us all that Jesus ever said
Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done ... Father-Son-and Spirit
We worship your Holy Name, in the Name of Jesus
Halleluljah and amen, Hosanna and Amen.
© Anil Deo  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member God Forbid

Perhaps most people would prefer a free and open society.
But God forbid that I should  DAMPEN  anyone's spirit
or  BLEMISH  someone's  VISAGE  by exposing some
PERNICIOUS   manipulations of a few fraudulent people.
Must I dare TREAVERSE  another's 'rights to indifference'?                                                            
Nevertheless, standing at the  SENTRY  post on yesterday, I observed                                                                                   
free  ENTERPRISE  in a most unusual way.  There were no hands barred,
a free-for-all survival of the fittest like 'robber barons' reinvented, or like                                                              
before anti-trust laws. Business transactions, 'the buyer beware type',                                                    
were being made by  ASTRAL  citizens "from somewhere out there".

102020PSCtest, Eight Word Challenge 11, John Hamilton.NA

melancilie

Melancolie 

The August heat is hotter than other summer months
more lethal going in for the kill, 
The olive trees gasp, bark crackles and leaves hang 
lifeless, but the sun keeps on shining 
I think of Norway. to be back to my hometown run
down to the park and remember the joy when 
Stavanger became a modern town Cafe Alexander
where one could have  a pint of beer without eating
a sandwich that has been the norm
The idea was to stop people from drinking alcohol 
that was, in our narrow-minded society, a great sin 
there were other places to go on a Friday, say
Inter cafe, but to get in after nine, you had to be a friend
of the doorman who wielded immense power but 
was open for a bribe 
Then there was a place called "Hunters Lodge." always
full, the dominating waiter at the inn, grew wealthy 
taking bribes, keeping order his way, believing in
free enterprise.
It often rains in my hometown, and I refuse to carry 
an umbrella, which is a defeatist sign giving into
the vagary of the weather. 
As I walk on steep streets, I remember how sad I was
feeling like a loser and not finding  the tune, I knew 
was there only to get old and understand that I had
demanded too much of life, the not obtainable  
perfection
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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