Best Monies Poems


If I Ruled the World

If I ruled the world,
I'd round up all the men.
Send them to Afghanistan,
...And nuke the place again,
and again.

I'd collect and burn,
All the world's monies
And make sex slaves,
Of all the honeys

I would kill all the ugly ones
Well save one or two
So when I'm drunk I'll say
'**** you look good to scr3w'

I suppose you wanted everyone,
To live in peace on the earth?
But believe me, if I ruled
That would be all a myth

But I'm sure after fifty years
Of all that sex slaving
Everyone will be related
And there would be no misbehaving

Because I will make sure 
Brother does not kill brother
And to women, the children
Will call all of them mother

To me, you guessed it
They will call me father

So I don't need riches or power
Or greed, just lust
I don't need gold or diamonds 
Only women with a 42DD bust.......

**Requested by my Cousin Michelle**
Categories: monies, funny, cousin,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Purse

If, entrusted were I, with a magical purse,
one that held what was needed, but not monies curse.
One that neither bulged, nor would ever be empty,
so when I reached down within, there I'd find plenty.

A handful of tolerance, I would pull each day,
to pass out to those in need, I met along the way.
I would take a fist full of hope, to toss aloft.
Scatter it among the throng, letting it land soft.

I would enter into the turf of gangs and their wars.
Trading peace for their guns, so they would kill no more.
I would go to Washington, there I would invest,
two handfuls of honesty, perhaps ten, would be best.

Charity, I would share, with those who live large.
Help them to give some away, so no one need starve.
I could change so many things and alter many lives.
But, I could also do harm and make so many cry.

As it is so easy, to think one self's above,
to take control of lives, forgetting about love.
So for myself, I'd take a bit to keep myself humble.
So that I and my purse, never, ever stumble
Categories: monies, fantasy, hope, inspirational, introspection,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member 2010 and Beyond

There was a naughty boy
and a naughty boy was he,
for nothing would he do
but live for his family.


He has never had a holiday
since 1991
all the monies
he has earned
were for his kids
to have much fun.


Now his kids are older
his time
has finally arrived, for
he has a taste for music
so to a concert
he will strive.


2010 is around the corner
to England he will go
to see some famous 
Rock bands
and marvel
at their 
shows


And when he does return
his journey 
will be shared with you,
for since 1991
his music has
seen him 
through.


My entry into Brian's contest " Christmas Parlour Poetry " 




http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-3.php
Categories: monies, family, music
Form: Bio

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


We Raise Them Up

Today we sing 
great joy we bring
To those sweet souls 
words long forgotten

For just a while we take them 
to a peaceful magical place
          a place they knew 
                 a place they loved 
                       a place to put smiles on their face

Even those who do not speak whose memories faded long ago
They’ll sing along inside their heads the words they used to know
And as the music starts to play deep inside a memory stirs
As slowly they will rock and hum before the words begin to come
And by the time we reach page two they sing along with me and you
  
   ‘Blue Moon’  ~  we sing ~ oh how they swoon
   ‘Delilah’ ~ ‘Lean on Me’
   ‘Sweet Caroline' ~ they start to move it really gets them in the groove 
    
We sing with gusto they smile with joy
As memories return when girl meets boy    
Our last rendition our final song
Full of joie de vivre the choir and me

We start to sing ‘You Raise Me Up’
I start to cry ~ I don’t know why it always makes me cry…
We raise the roof our souls entwine they almost touch the sky
Our spirits smile with exultation to cheers ~ applause ~ a celebration

For today we really made their day and they have made ours too
Monies sent to Parkinson’s UK we pray a cure is found one day

We bid them farewell ~ We wave them goodbye
I'm so blessed to be part of this choir
It is food for my heart each time I take part
With lovely friends who like me have “P”     
             
Singing together in our Parkinson’s choir    
I feel truly alive ~ I feel almost on fire…

Written 12th February 2020

I wrote this today after a performance by our Parkinson’s Choir, where we entertained some delightful folk who are living out their final days within a care home.  It was truly inspirational…  

Contest Strand Select M
Sponsor Brian Strand
HONORABLE MENTION

Poem is in the 2nd Anthology

Contest 1299
Sponsor Brian Strand
Categories: monies, music, song, uplifting,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Womans Desire

Woman’s Desire

What’s all this rigmarole and claptrap 
About the man being the only one thinking of sex?
Well, truth be known,
A woman, skin deeply eager, thinks much of it too…
Once leaving the job, after 
The shopping; the vaccuuming; the cooking; the pots,
Pans, and dishes; after the childrens’
Homework, meals, baths, and good-night kisses;
Once the cat  and dog have gone out and in
Twice, been fed, and cooed over while petted;
After inquires about her spouse’s work, complaints,
And  wishes;  after the phone calls to people of concern;
After checking the bank account, new emails, and 
Cleaning out her handbag; counting out lunch monies;
Preparing the morrow’s snacks and clothing; writing
The lists of to-do’s and schedules;  and, preparing medications…
Afrter all that, following ten minutes of rest
 In a cushioned chair,
Among the first wishes of her long-patient body,  
Is for some time to linger, living
Pleasure’s  words whispered by her passion’s tongue.
A woman desires to lay felt and feeling sensuously
With her beloved, warm and spent, 
Close to sleep at her side.


——————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 9/16/2023
Categories: monies, feelings, gender, love, relationship,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member A Request--Value All Life

~~~~~~~~

The sick elephant, perished at sunset!
Headline news, tears, anger, outrage and scorn.
A worldwide sadness, her baby just born!
Monies were collected, protests in the streets.
Medallions with her picture worn,ah, hearts so torn!
                       ~~
A kitten walks the street alone, we save her!
We scream, "Where is humanity's soft heart?"
Organizations formed then, for feral cats.
We pour huge funds into shelters at once.

But whay of the unborn human, about to be
killed?
Sleeping, softly in their mother's warm womb?
Little fingers, sweet little toes, about to die?
Our hearts, souls, eyes, do we in denial close.

Millions upon millions, will indeed today, die.
Never to see sun, moon, stars or bluest sky.
Taken by methods too cruel to speak.
Angel babies killed in abortion mills.
The world weeps not a tear for human loss, still!

For the unborn, all, yes  I will take a stand.
In a world that adores trees more than the
family of man.
A ghoulish thought, human life surrendered.
A baby is not a bad tooth to remove by any
Governments monies, freely tendered.

Sing not to me, that you love humanity!
Nor of world peace, when our own kind we kill.
Yes, aware man wants to this world control.
This world is not yours, it belongs to God.

What good, this verse, in a so very cold world?
Why! So you dare use fetal cells,I ask why?
To use them in a vaccine, you drool for?
Their cells floating in your selfish bloodstream?

We pen about the evils of truly great men?
We hum and talk to Muses, how very!!
We buried God, we loathe free nations.
Globalism only, downing, all the rest.
Then wonder, why all the worldly unrest?

Laughing our lives away, a great escape?
Reality, no, never on our plates!
Good, unborn people destroyed,oh how we do cheer.
Unethical, political thieves and snakes we adore.
As we quill, on God's  sunny shores.


                             1/22/2021
                                ~3~


                National Sanctity of Life Day
                    January 22, 2021
                 President Donald J Trump
                      Thank You!

                 This day to respect the unborn~
                 Cancelled by the current resident
                 of The White House on Day One.
                                 So be it!
Categories: monies, abortion, angst, political, sad,
Form: Verse


Premium Member Wake Up and Smell the Tea

(This poem is a lightly satirical look back in history at what 
  was known as the Boston Tea Party)


Something's brewing on the Dartmouth
"Are those Mohawks that we see."
No, but over-taxed colonists crying
"Wake up and smell the tea."

England taxed her colonies monies
Which they could ill-afford
So they had a 'tea off' party
Dumping tea bags overboard.

England did not heed that warning
Her far away nostrils could not smell
How the tea did brew and simmer 
On Boston's waters as they swelled.

Swelling high on tides of freedom
That only fate could see
But too late for dear old England
To wake up and smell the tea.


RETA PRUITT
August 21, 2016
Categories: monies, history, humor,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member

but no monies
I spent it all on honies


sad times
© Ur Mom  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: monies, betrayal, green, hate, heartbreak,
Form: Tail-rhyme

In a Perfect World

If perfect means flawless, then a Perfect World
 is flawless too.
Persons would have to be the same
Frame of mind to have a Perfect World.
So that good things may circle around,
A Perfect World should exist in Collectivism;
Sharing All Things selflessly with wisdom.
Is this perfect enough for you?

I have a trade, you have one too,
Each one complementing the other.
Like in a Jewish neighborhood - 
Brother sells this, Sister that, 
Get those from Auntie, Uncle paints well.
Cousin does the printing, Grandma makes
pastries,
And Neighbor sells books and magazines.

In a Perfect World, there'd be one set of Investors
Vying for the best rates for us.
Bankers would raise Interest Rates,
And offer Bonuses for our monies they invest.
Taxes would not be Garnished for silly non-payments,
And Tuition for schooling made more affordable.
There'd be no Pilot Research Studies for 
non-existing disease!

But what do you believe is the idea of man's 
Perfect World?
No illness but happiness and laughing with all.
Going on vacation, dwelling among sincere friends,
Great romances, healthy children, cars and a house.
Pretty flowers, waterfalls, shrubs and trees in a field.
Making a lot of money but hardly working.
Worshipping and praising the Lord without deceit.
Lord, quickly bring a flawless world for PEACE everlastingly!


Poem Title: In A Perfect World

Sponsor: Catie Lindsey

Date Due: March 7th, 2016.
Categories: monies, appreciation, community, emotions, freedom,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Black-Eyed Peas For New Years Meal

Black-Eyed Peas for New Year’s Meal


Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas

I’m going to freeze
If I don’t eat Black-eyed peas
On New Year’s Day

Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas

Gee Whiz please!
Gotta have those Black-eyed peas
Mammy and Pappy always 
Said, “Eat Black-eyed peas
And you will have plenty of monies 
The rest of the year and live in ease.”

Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas

Play a little ditty while cooking those
Black-eyed peas
Cook them with bacon, or ham bones
Fatback or hog jowls
Serve with a
Side of collard, turnip, or mustard greens
And golden brown sweet cornbread please

Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas

Mammy and Pappy always 
Said, “You can live with a little passing gas
On New Year’s Day
To enjoy having plenty of monies
The rest of the year and live in ease.”

Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas

I’m going to freeze
If I don’t eat Black-eyed peas
On New Year’s Day

12/29/2016
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: monies, food, money, new year,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Hacker

The Hacker


Vodka
Used Dells and HP notebooks
Routers and switches
Gateways and sniffers
Kvm boxes and multi real-time data shows

My booty is plenty
No one knows the white mask of mist
They only know some monies are amiss
Bots and trojans and loggers too
Tools of the trade
As the cash is readily piled and made

2 million bit coins
400 million Yuan
786 billion rubles, there goes Putin’s new dawn
From Monaco to Luxembourg to Timbuktu
I have all the cash
Stolen from even mighty criminals too

Now I partake in my biggest heist
The crown jewels you can all keep and gaze
My prize is of more value, I shall hack all the days
I trace ip’s, and wires and protocols
Searching for patterns and rhythms and single heart beats
I shall not ever accept any defeat

I sit in my chair, monitors a plenty
Scanning and routing, probing and poking
Kilobytes and packets of data my way
Slowly, I shall hack into the device I wish to sway

Bingo, I got it, I think I am in
Pacemaker number 24-25-poet-of-things
I now control the beat of her heart
As I reprogram her love from here to the start
Pumping away, verses that sway
I shall now control her hearts desires of spring love in May

Captured her heart
Now I hold it in prisons enclave
To ancient romances and poetic rhymes
I know I am guilty of loves worst crime
However now I know her heart is all mine

I shall make it beat for eternity
So that the kiss I shall give on her sweet lips
Will be smiles held forever and a day
I hacked her heart
And I like it this way!
Categories: monies, art, crazy, love, paradise,
Form: Free verse

Woman Seeking Man

PERSONALS:

Must love raw onions
Void of toe bunions
Must have personality
Live in  reality
Must enjoy long walks
Void of stalks
Must not smell bad
Take bath, be glad
Must say, "I love sex"
Never be complex
baggage to be rid
Absolutely no kid
Must love to dance
Wear dry pants
Pay half the rent
monies well spent

If now you think you qualify
check my photo with your eye
Make no mistake I kid you not!
I get a little, You get a lot! 

2/16/16
© Judy Konos  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: monies, future,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Patriotic Retirement Plan

Giving billions of pounds to banks that just squander
Sharing bonuses and gifts, as they internally launder

To Mr Cameron, an alleged Prime Minister for the people
You work for us, do your job right, climb our steeple

Currently in our workforce, there are ten million or more
Aged over fifty, by the score, by the score

Pay them all a million, let's call it severance pay
Retire them early, ten million jobs now in play

With their monies they must buy, a brand new fancy car
Ten million cars ordered, a motor industry to travel far

A house they must buy, or a mortgage to pay off
A dying housing crisis sorted, no builders will scoff

To their kids who have become idle, youthful travesty
No excuses now, to schools, college or universities

So many kids will be removed, no hanging about our streets
Education being their answer, crime fixed, the ultimate treat

Buying fuel for their new cars, purchasing a few bottles of wine
Their taxes and expenditure, will leave the economy fine

What the tax payer has laid out, as they internally launder
Whom we have voted in, do your job, we'll grow fonder





Adapted from an email I received at work today.
Categories: monies, politicalwork, work,
Form: Couplet

I Am An African Farmer

I wear a toga bigger than the life I live
I know who I am so I scream aloud, clear
My name means unlimited abundance
Cultivating the earth is a blessed calling
Transcending generations even unborn 
For man, food must be, for life must be
I know who I am, a facilitator typified 

Learning in life has made man conquer forever 
My contemporaries smile, they chose to learn 
Like they sow, the more they keep reaping

My shepherds are led by their noses and stray
My portion varies wildly from existing branding
I reap with the pests and weeds and back ache
Years of manual tilling has tilted my pose
The sun has melted my swagger, resistance I am 
I have never seen tractors only hoes behold 
Monies for farms fund party rallies, orgies
Agricultural subsidies strictly for city men
No knowledge of chemicals and plant food

The human factor beats them all 
The little harvest must be shared to bear 
Streams of humans surviving on tiny bits
To share for us is tomorrow lived and beyond 
While the bourgeoisie wallow during filthy wealth  
These calloused hands they are bent to tear
Categories: monies, farm, life, political,
Form: Free verse

Cave Quid Optes

Aye did not heed the maxim be careful
     what you wish for,
     cuz now adversity not abate
perhaps helpful for thee reader

     if this bard ****
     did apprise present woe
     by turning time machine backdate
asper how the fickle finger

     of thine existence didst create,
a more agonizing situation discerning
     scythe leant presaging grim reaper date
now welcomed with

     opened arms to extricate
fools paradise by twist,
     and shout of cruel fate
e'en locked up in a damp, dank,

     and dark dungeon more grate
full, than full blown wraith zing hate
now lemme summarize
     woe of this ingrate

where reprieve of death,
     would be to good for me to jubilate
perhaps immolation, thence
     at the stake burnt offerings

     presented to the
     "FAKE" trumpeting khanate
hence complete annihilation
     the only way to liberate

a guilty conscious weighted down
     by Sisyphean sized mill stones
now whit tis time mate
to acknowledge, and try to numerate

whereat one issue found me
     reneging and being obdurate
on reimbursing me youngest daughter,
     who could not pontificate

why she needed to fork
     over monies in relation
     to overpayment re
     guarding social security,
     essentially incumbent on me

     on me eek quate
ting to a sizable tidy sum,
     finding yours truly i rate
yet refund check she sent

     over a year ago, and spate
of anger (born by eldest lass)
     unforgivable egregious stonewalling
     do to procrastination trait

this papa (rightfully my responsibility) 
     objects to bearing
     brunt of arithmetical error
plus my own meager

     very limited fiduciary reserves
     induces anxiety to undulate
thus becoming fancy free
     and foot loose bachelor

appears as emotionally
     cannibalistic (ready 
     to jump off a bridge)
     to shuck off this unbearable weight.
Categories: monies, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Metrical Tale
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