Best Hundred Dollar Bill Poems
Don't let yourself be fooled Mexico is not a poor country
Not just tortilla and bean, or a old Mexican man on a burro
But very rich nation, gold, silver, copper and oil galore
And the poor people are anything but free
Bit they are always ready to take a dollar from the Gringo
But that is not the picture given to the world by our neighbor next door
It is a Mexican law, that a gringo can not hold a job, hard way to make a living
It is a old saying."The most useless thing in the World"
" Is a Gringo with no money in Mexico"
Some of their law towards Americans are un for giving
But that is not what they try to tell the World
The Government and the super rich have all the money
If an American is caught with a single gun, 50 years in jail
If one buys some land, right off the Government owns half of it
They keep their people very poor, un educated for a reason, government control
And in no way do want to be there anywhere in jail
Wonder why Mexico always seems to make a profit
Almost like the Devil has their soul
Corrupttion is all they have ever known for many years
For a hundred dollar bill, you get, Get Out of Jail free card
Why so many work for the drug world or the Mafioso
Tell them that they will be safe and away from fears
Sometimes if it means working in the prison yard
If you don't want to go jail in Mexico, then don't go
So no wonder why they all want to migrate to the land of milk and honey
Now with our new law, some are starting to cry
But I for one don't want to go over there and live
Fro the Stone Age, it has always been about money
It is times for some of those to say good bye
And live by the Immigration Laws, where they live
Jefferson Randolph 'Soapy' Smith was the wiliest scoundrel in the west!
He was invited to leave numerous towns since he wasn't a welcome guest!
He swindled gullible dudes throughout the west endin' up in Colorado,
Where he earned the sobriquet 'Soapy' and where he found his El Dorado!
He'd set up a soap display on a Denver street and invite folks to gather 'round.
His spiel began: "Buy a bar for a dollar and inside money may be found!"
The rush was on and suckers fought to buy bars of soap, gamblin' on a win!
Cops were even called to the scene to maintain order and to quell the din!
Folks tore at wrappers and one feller hollered, "I got a hundred dollar bill!"
Little did the unsuspectin' boobs know that it was 'Soapy's' planted shill!
Dupes lost their dough and with a five-cent bar of soap they were stuck,
He pulled the scam time and again and that's how "Soapy's' name was struck!
'Soapy' pulled up stakes in Denver and migrated to other towns out west.
He was successful with the soap scam and was adept at hidin' aces in his vest!
He made his way to Creede where he established the Orleans Gamblers Saloon.
There, 'Soapy' was involved in nefarious affairs and left town none too soon!
The gold rush was on in the Yukon and he pined to go there ere it was too late.
He arrived in Skagway and later on in Juneau where he was to meet his fate.
'Soapy' met his end in a gunfight and his final words were, "My God, don't shoot!"
Thus ends the ballad of 'Soapy' Smith, that swindlin', cheatin', rotten galoot!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
PREACHER
the preacher explains
as he travels tracks on his palm
he is on god’s path
helter-skelter tracks indeed!
the midnight express toots warning
reverend smith
with his superior air
mounts the podium
from the loft i can see
through the tear his underwear
after sunday service
a hundred dollar bill in the collection plate
“praise the lord!” says smith
to himself quietly covering it
with a five dollar bill
Dave Austin
If Washington came back to life
I wonder how he’d feel
To be pictured on a quarter
And a dollar bill – surreal!
Abe Lincoln, too, would bust a gut
If he became alive,
To see his visage plastered
On a penny and a five.
And Alexander Hamilton,
If he could live again,
Would love the play about him
And his picture on the ten.
Had Andrew Jackson ditched his grave,
He’d likely argue plenty
About his image front and center
On our nation’s twenty.
Ben Franklin, though, would be real proud
If he came back to earth,
To find out that a hundred dollar bill
Proclaims his worth.
McKinley’s portrait graces
Money that we rarely use.
(I’ve never even seen that bill –
Five hundred smackeroos!)
Poor Jefferson, despite his wealth
And all he got to do,
Unfortunately got his mug
On the elusive two!
The pictures on our currency
Have long been set in place.
Thank goodness or our current prez
Would swap ‘em for his face.
A crush I think not.
Lust me all you want.
One Sunday morning, I got a phone call.
the Kidster parent were going out as I recall.
A babysitter was in need .
I said no, but they started to beg.
Okay! I will be there at eight.
Instead I got there at six..
With my early arrival, the punk ran to open the gate.
Looking at me with his puppy eyes.
His parents head out to their date.
The first thing I did is send him to wash his hands.
Knowing he has a tendency to mast**bate.
Especially when I am around him.
I feel so sorry for the kid.
He plays cowboys and Indians all alone.
I call him the, Kidster do to his own insanity doom.
Poor boy has, Billy the kid posters all over his room.
I send him off to bed, he asked if I can tuck him in .
I replied with a "No!" He looked at me and started to cry.
The, Kidster ran up in to his room.
One hour later I hear my name "P.D.-P.D, marry me!!"
I open the door the bugger was at it again.
Playing with little wil*y under the sheets.
Laughing to the fact Will-I-am has the perfect name
.
His parent arrive, they give me a hundred dollar bill.
I told them, Billys at it again,
They said thanks P.D. no one dares come around .
Our Kido gets obsessed with every one in town
Maybe he'll grow out of it as soon as he stops wetting his bed
Until than we wonder if he's in to men.
He keeps dreaming of getting slammed all over and over again
This is no slam do not be alarmed Kid. I can write cute to.
By now you should know I am your favorite fan..P.D.
Women who drink and sex
It was in Livorno and it was a cold January night when I met her
in a bar- where else does one meet women, in the salvation army?
What she was doing in Livorno beats me as she was an American
woman far from home, I was there waiting for my ship to come in.
We were both drinkers and felt empathy for one another and when
the bar closed she came to my hotel. In the morning, I had a shower,
she was still asleep woke and asked what I was doing in her room
I told her it was my hotel room she cried; worked for the consulate.
We had breakfast, but she needed a drink to feel normal. Saw her go
into a taxi looking like an efficient functionary going to work, I knew
she could not keep it up the day of estimation was near, she left
a hundred dollar bill on my pillow I was both offended and pleased,
being a low paid seaman, my silence would be absolute. If she wrote
a book about this encounter I will somehow get the blame hinting
darkly she had been abused by me. But this is not true what the lady
long for is not being able to make love with abandonment and blame
it on the booze.
Christmas Morn, That Midnight Was Born
That Christmas morn, sun was still hiding so low
yet Queenie had just put on a beautiful show.
For little puppies we kids had all quietly prayed
And mother dog had given, each beautifully made.
Six little furry bundles soon appeared in sight
all pretty except the runt, I later named Midnight.
Momma dog was so careful to tend to them all
even Midnight although he was so very small.
Five were quite healthy and look so very great
except for Midnight and he hardly ever ate.
Born so small, left paw deformed, looked so bad
one less left toe he most assuredly had.
Father said, Midnight simply would not survive
I took it upon myself to prove that a lie.
Three weeks, I diligently set him in place to feed
taking care of his every want and great need.
He had started out looking like a disaster
now suddenly he had grown into a little master.
With that white shining spot just above his eye
dad said, he will do , son you are the reason why.
A year flew past like a quick, brief summer rain
all pups beautiful, nary a one was just plain.
Yet Midnight all agreed was now the great prize
I had done it, proved my Dad's prediction a lie!
He had a shiny coat that glowed, a limp as he walks
his bark was so beautiful, I swear I heard him talk.
Neighbors swore nothing like him did they ever see
Dad said, "son gets the credit" then points at me.
All the dogs were soon trained to track and hunt
Midnight excelled, the very best of the bunch.
Fellow hunters bragged all about his great skill
one offered to buy him for a hundred dollar bill!
Dad would always smile, wink and just politely say
not for any amount, not now or on any other day.
That dog was reared and fed lovingly by my baby son
I'd not sell him for diamonds nor gold by the ton.
Midnight began a runt and little could I ever see
but my boy saw and proved my error lovingly to me.
That pup began a sickly runt, a diamond in the rough
my boy healed him, making a top winner sure enough!
That Christmas morn, sun was still hiding so low
yet Queenie had just put on a beautiful show.
For little puppies we kids had all quietly prayed
And mother dog had given, each beautifully made.
R.J. Lindley
It was a good morning until…
I lost a hundred-dollar bill.
I cried “Oh no!
Why is this so?”
It was a good morning until…
the mail brought a bill for a mil.
My tears did flow.
I cried with woe.
It was a good morning until…
I wrote a bad check for the bill.
To jail I go.
It’s sad, I know.
Danny was a smart fellow,
he always seemed mellow...
some thought he was gay
and became an easy prey.
Danny spoke with an accent
very distinctive to an extent;
even the wealthy derided him,
and one of them was Mr. Skim.
" Bastards!" He yelled with much rage,
" Hard times destroyed my elite image
and they insult me by tossing dimes...
while they munch on Chicken Fries! "
" Even in brutal weather, I holds sign
that reads," I wear no Calvin Klein'
jeans and sneakers, no Gucci' jewelry;
I have lost my job...have a little mercy! "
A good-hearted man approaches his sill
and kindly offers him a hundred dollar bill,
" Buy yourself a warm blanket and food,
some Coors to blast away your sad mood! "
Written on 10/24/2018
It's a guy who grew up with good morals
People with the purest of souls
Raised to excel and exceed
Born to treat
Attentive and sensitive
They spent minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years
Time without boundaries
Listening to the problems and fears
Of the males but especially the females near
'cause those girls needed someone to listen to them
Someone to vent to, really
And yeah, sometimes it made the nice guy feel special
It feels good to be needed by someone you love
Or someone you can love
But the stars of fate and destiny above
Don't always align
Not for this type
And while the womenfolk prance and dance with their hairless monkey
They're mistreated, used, abused, consumed and refused
And the shes rush to the nice hes for that undying comfort
But the latter are getting restless
Their looks are ordinary, so how do they compete
With tall dark and handsome
When they're short, pale and human?
This guy's not a cheat
He's patient and his anger is merciful
He won't take advantage of womenfolk so vulnerable
Won't resort to objectify
But they're lumped with the jerks and shirts and together are vilified
So what does the nice guy do?
Contemplate.
He'll meditate
and say "hey,
Why are all my friendships one-sided?"
His empathy and reliable nature can't be appreciated
So it needs to be asphyxiated
Cut free, act differently
Take on a job, a car, a tattoo, a gym, an instrument
Designer clothes, cigarettes, cigars,
All what was feared and all that is sheer
********
Like a hundred dollar bill, given so much value
But simply a sensitive cheap piece of paper
Easily ripped and quickly gypped
And he leaves his morality
Cuts his vocabulary
4 word sentences, 3 syllabus max per word
To get out of nice guy playground and friend zone
But that's really just accepting the parasite
Letting it infect you
Taking your views to the termites
Yeah, you might get tail
Or you may completely fail
Though will you really let selfishness > goodness?
No,
I won't
Not on the long run, at least.
Just this one time.
...
Ur car should be burning it
It's Top of the line when referring to my whisk(e)y
Regular, average, standard means the opposite
It's like a hundred dollar bill not a fifty
An A+ on the Final Test
Writing for the few
Show them who is the best
Anything less than Premium will not do
My internal engine burns E85
Cheap and isn't made for certain cars
I don't need Premium gas to drive
I can go just as far
Struggles and challenges give my wordz drive
Money hasn't brought me this far
I write these wordz & those wordz to feel alive
Not having natural ability so u pay to be a superstar
I won't be great until after I die
Sometimes they r outta Premium & u gotta get mid-grade
20 cents less but I'm not good with numbers & percentages
Paying more for Premium gas doesn't make u great
Membership has it priveleges
It's ok cuz my diamond shines even in the dark
Don't need the Big City cuz I'm fine in the Villages
Set fire to their city and my next line is the spark
Without money, I guess my poems are only Mid-Grade
You were much more than a man with a kite and a key.
By being a founding father of a new country,
your signature can be seen on some great documents.
Helping with the Declaration of independence,
in our history, you made an auspicious presence.
Your many accomplishments can be considered great.
You were seen on half-dollars from nineteen forty-eight
until fifteen years later in nineteen sixty-three
when they bumped you off in favor of John Kennedy.
However, your prominent image we can see still,
on the Federal Reserve’s one hundred dollar bill.
Many people have seen him
But no one knows his name
That easy-walking white haired man
Whose made his claim to fame
One day in a casino
He wagered up a bet
And put a hundred dollar bill
On seven in roulette
He won on number seven
And he built himself a stack
Then he went to play some cards
And he won playing black-jack
A drunkard fool most his life
Now sober twenty years
He hasn't had a single drink
At least, that's what he swears
He's been from place to place
And he's made his claim to fame
He's a solitaire aficionado man
Still, no one knows his name
Bring A Character To Life Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
9-4-2019
When in Spring with leaves turned to green
Eyes, hands & face
There lived one man with a thirst
To live in the moment between space & time
Selling his pots and pans to get by
Although the years would pass he had every reason to grasp
The true message of his heart was found in a book
Inside was filled with a deep look on dreams
Dark conclaves of dungeons with kings & queens
Deep demonic screams
Cray's from out of the belly of Hell
What a strange way of a story to tell
Howls in the village square piercing shrieks
All found in this merchant's handbook
It will make you think perhaps take another look
One day the merchant was working
He lost his book when he wasn't looking
Inside he kept a hundred dollar bill for keep sake maybe for a cheap thrill
Now the book was gone and so went his mind
He once could see but now he's blind
The merchant was a very timid man very kind
But now the madness ensued he was in a heavy bind
A reward was posted at the local post office
Over the course of time he would find a knock on his front door
It was none other but a local minister
inviting the merchant to his home for dinner
The merchant agreed to go and at the end of their great feast
The minister confessed and admitted
For he was the one who had stolen his handbook
Was very tempted to draw insight for his sermons
For the merchants case instead of outrage he was left in a haze
When he came to his senses he forgave him
Taking the book back, to his surprise
there was thosand dollars inside
The seed he had planted a time ago grew
He didn't really know what to do
Had bitten far more then he could ever chew
Next thing you know the merchant made a personal donation
To take a break on a long awaited vacation
Then he wrote in his book to finish his story
His book finally of dreams was bound for glory
Your great collection of vinyl.
It is your own attire.
Room's painted with acryl.
It is my suppressed ire.
Your gave me yet another drill
By the electric fire.
In hopes to develop a skill
Of plausible liar.
Your dear place has far too much frill,
Outside there is barbed wire.
You like the melody of trill,
Nice voices in the choir,
Along the calming sound of quill
And a piano wire.
Did you ever hear horror shrill?
When living rights expire?
Do you possess just enough will
To set my soul on fire?
What should I do that you could kill
In rage out of desire?
I went outside to play with Jill
A mere half hour prior.
Lunch of salad with pickled dill.
Bypassed a black friar.
When will you finally retire?
Do not get mad. You chill!
And give me that pocket hair dryer.
One hundred dollar bill?
Please, there's no need. There is no dire
Emergency. So chill!
Pass me my magic happy pill,
You're elegant esquire!