Best Pricing Poems
There are certain things you see
That are bright and glittery
Shiny, fancy and enticing
But they are not free, the pricing
Of these items is to high
They are not the reason why
You are put upon this earth
The price you pay is never worth
The way they look, feel, or glow
Soon you will feel hollow
With nobody by your side
When the love inside you died
s you become more greedy
Materialistic and so needy
For items to collect and wear
No feelings anywhere
Your heart is a lonely pit
Little by little, bit by bit
Everyone who used to care
Can not be found anywhere
As your heart could only feel
Love for things that are not real
In boxes, on shelves, in drawers
Replacing loving friends, now your
Surrounded all around
By a creepy eerie sound
Of silence making you see
How lonely your world can be
No soft words or caring ways
From someone to love each day
Let’s walk you through the Advertising world
Where people are ideating in search of a pearl
They are brainstorming on a client brief you see
Where no head or tail is transparent to be
The client is king for all you know
At times he argues to get his pricing low
His main aim is maximum profit to show
With minimum man power and lots to flow
The art director is busy drawing his thoughts
Looks like he got caught in his mind of little knots
While the copywriter is scribbling down the row
thinking of ideas to blow the directors bow
ops!
The graphics designer is pleading for no more
Coz he is the last man standing holding the show
He changes the designs as per the director’s nose
His mind is blown and wished he could say no
But he is stuck like the yes man holding the door
His creative juices are exhausted like a
Banana which can’t blow
And as the competition rises, the teamwork blows
No one united as individuals vie the show
While time is clicking as the deadline is near
It’s time to go home but wait a new brief has come
and it’s not so clear
Oh hell no!
It’s the weekend coming and I hope it’s not work
Coz we don’t get paid overtime in the field of Advertising lurks
Oh no!!!
I drained life of its fullness...
not pricing its worthiness,
leaving nicks in the prime of youth:
deceitful tricks to ignore every truth.
I imitated parody to conceal identity,
thus making it forgery my priority;
and the masked nobleman acted out his
infamous burlesque play, ridiculing Fay...
knowing that her unrhymed lines
were intently borrowed from clowns,
not from gifted writers with clever minds;
did they bray when they were blamed for the delay?
My intent was not a merited Godsent or lofty thought
perceived by a gladiator who held the wilt
of his sword proportioned to his solid built,
but rather ridden by a guilt which had a powerful force to jilt
me when I was reduced to tears by my peers for my peculiar tilt.
Written on 12/12/2016
This voice, it's scary, making me weary, and it's staring from under the staircase.
As it shares it's presence, it's essenece is venomous, it's horrendous...
I quiver and shiver as it whispers... "it's easier to die quicker"...
So as this demon starts surging in, my body starts burning and I feel my nervousness...
It's my nerves nervously hurting, my minds turning, i'm learning this is demonic conjuring...
Every night I feel it lurking, when it sees me it stops searching and, I feel it surfacing...
My wrecked soul is it's perfectness, I'm deaths encouragement....
But i'm already soulless, and it's permenant...
Cause I clash within my habits, and scream till I vanish
I'm just a tragic damaged empty canvas...
They say i'm just imagitive, but as I lay cold on this granite
I hear echo through my crafted canyons is...
This voice is it calling, is it calling...
It's your choice, she said "take or let go"
Is it calling, when you're all alone
In your own sweet home..
Is it calling, this voice, is it calling...?
I was sleeping and dreaming, silently screaming, while violently weeping..
and mildly feeling, that I was honestly grieving, and quitely greeting my anxiety's breathing
and ultimately it was wildly eating at who I was...
So as I lay lifeless, can't open my eyelids, i'm crying, my tongue i'm biting...
In the mirior i'm eyeless, but in my room i'm blinded by the lightning...
Why am I still trying, this demon will forever be rising...
it'll be him and I binding, him climbing, while i'm diving..
I stopped fighting, because drunk driving is a way for actual dying...
I don't have a direction, I've been hiding in my writings...
I can't sleep through screeches and slicing, it's frightening...
Oh the timing, the horizon, how am I still surviving
But my mind, heart and soul it's pricing, so i'm done dividing because of....
This voice is it calling, is it calling...
It's your choice, she said "take or let go"
Is it calling, when you're all alone
In your own sweet home..
Is it calling, this voice, is it calling...?
No judging, just loving
No hurting, just living
No budgeting, just pricing
No nudging, just longing
No huffing, just climbing
No shifting, just lounging
No action, just waiting
I've got to clean out these loaded ancient poetry files
What will I sell first maybe I'll just stack them in big pile
I know then I'll sort them_separate by topic
Remove ones about child sex abuse as if by magic
Now the world is safer place for children to play
I'll get busy seeing what's left to take care of this day
Now I'll remove the ones about poisonous snakes
Get rid of those pythons who threaten human lives to take
What do I have left to sell_some with misspelled words
Haikus not written very well, grammar gone amuck by yards
Now for pricing what can I do _easy stickers
Those wih self-stick tacky glue_poor Haikus snap-shot pictures
I'll sell them first three for a quarter_maybe dime
For folks will say why they don't even have any end-rhyme
Forget this dang garage sale_just have an estate sale
Have professional come over price then use slide scale
Somehow these couplets will have to come to a close
The lunch timer just dinged_sorry I'll just say adios
Finis'
Sponsor:~Skat~
Contest:A Poet's Garage Sale
Written: September 24, 2012
I.
Astronomical Ups and Downs,
Chronological In and Outs,
Agronomical Tractors and their Marijuana Out-fits,
Egocentrical Monks and Perverts,
Economical Charts and Cost pricing,
Methodological Costs and Expenses,
Sociological Frosts and Warm kindness,
Grease on my coat,Row this damn boat,
Can God's Clay Decay,
Can Ants learn to play in the Sunlight,
We must all roast and eat Vampires toasted in bread and salt.
II.
Madhatters have learnt to Drink Malt,
Five year olds have learnt to Drink more than one bottle of Beer,
You must have an eye for these and more of your roasted swine-in-Chilli
peppers,
Leave my colonies to be manned by my faithful and well trained Monkeys,
I will lead the assault for Rome,Paris and your little Malta,
I will sit and wait for the sun to Fall Asunder,
The day Bread never wants to called a Consortium of Crumbs,
Angels will come fetch your Rare Flowers...Oh! Cupid,
Your cup has drunken you stupid,
We are here for the big Fight sheath all Swords...Draw and shoot off your filthy
barrelled guns.
The Haunting Of A Broken Spirit And Beleaguered Soul.
.
Her pricing haunting blood shocked eyes
Reflect her heavy rain cloud acid corroded heart
And spirit broken beleaguered soul
Although in the summer of her blossoming youth
She aged beyond her tender gifted years
Life has took it’s scourging toll
And she can no longer hold back
Her floods of painful tears
.
The bombshell blast that devastated and destroyed her life
Left her shell shocked unable to piece together
The shards and carnage left behind
Her dreams have turned into nightmares
Her bed but a bed of nails her broken spirit tied to the mast
She once dreamed of idle lush green bejewelled meadows
But now dwells in a mine field in total darkness
And with every breathe and step she takes
She feels the blast
.
Snared and tangled in a cobweb
The more she riddles the more she's tangled
Her hapless struggle is all in vane
She stands on the ege of oblivion
And welcomes an end to her bitter anguish and pain.
.
Peter Dome©2021.
HISTORY FACTS
history is perspective
create your favorite
WHY REASONS
fears dominate decisions
not faiths position
LEGAL SYSTEM
justice thought served
fair remains ignored
BATTLES FOR GOD
war religion lent
never hears amen
PRICING
when money poor
everything cost more
HORRIBLE NIGHTMARE
trifles require license
idiots freely parent
OUR CHILDREN'S TEACHERS
perversion media - heroes
morality consciousness - zero
SCHEDULES
living clock bound
time never found
HOUSING DEVELOPMENTS
populated suburban neighborhoods
strangers lacking brotherhood
Different publishers
Many offers
Praising their dollar seeking way
Hungry to publish my poems
Establish my talent,
Gift and voice.
Take advantage I must!
Many poets order extra copies,
Their proffer
Special pricing…
…BUT HURRY
Time is limited
Mail us your order
Send your check
And forever remain
The fool.
One thing we can all agree on
Is the pure allure of neon.
Even if you hate its glow,
That’s the way your eyes will go.
As for me, I love its pop,
Perfect for a photo op.
It improves most any sign,
Adding glitz to the design.
All the colors make me smile;
Green, though, is my favorite style.
Still, it is a dying art;
Pricing must be off the chart.
Neon has one big surprise,
Which most people don’t surmise.
You may think it cool or crass –
Either way, it’s made of gas!
Think of that next time you spot
A bit of neon, glowing hot.
Looks like liquid, acts like paint,
But remember – those it ain’t!
A ninety thousand dollar Jeep,
And that’s a standard one, no less!
The ‘23 Grand Wagoneer
Conquers the school lines best, I guess.
If Coleridge dreamt of Rubikahns
With pricing up among the stars,
I’d search for stash of heroin
And check his needle arm for scars.
A capital idea though
And P. T. Barnum comes to mind,
So climb up in that Wagoneer
And leave those school moms far behind.
These days it's tough being alive
Each day trying to survive
High prices are everywhere
Everyone living in fear
Paychecks not lasting for long
As your trying to be strong
Doing what's right to get by
To support family you try
To stretch out every dollar
But inside you scream and holler
Hoping costs go down again
Like they were way back when
No one had to choose between
Paying rent or food to eat
I miss my Mum’s subtle smile and her love;
recalling the times she’d sip tea and rock.
Now in heaven, looking down from above;
she sometimes visits my dreams, where we talk.
A part of me died when my Mum passed on;
I had never felt such a pricing pain.
My heart instantly broke; all hope was gone;
I never want to feel like that again.
Mum lives in memories; immortal there,
she’s still that spark of life that lit my fire.
I miss her laugh and the scent of her hair;
in the game of life, she played the umpire.
When I’d ask my Mum if God was real,
she’d just smile and say, believe what you feel.
Looking Back At Trump's Capital Assault Twice
From that storm-driven dark day.~
I saw rioters chanting U-S-A, U-S-A.~
And raging, raging, having their stay.~
Like wound-up robots with words to say.~
The mob-like lapped the Capital and its prey.~
Then raced through the steps of Trump's relay.~
For there they were under his spell and play.~
Like they were programmed to stray.~
Months after Trump's stop the steal came to a fray.~
When the mob took the Capital my heart was dismay.~
It was like watching stupidity, and horror in disarray.~
For there they stood casually in foul play.~
Waving flags, cameras, and de-pricing their way.~
Yet totally oblivious to the law and mainstay.~
This day needs closure and the puppeteer has to pay.~
Note-I wrote this poem on another site soon after the January 6th attack
back in 2021. What's sickening to me is that when Trump retook the office on 1/20/25 the very next day 1/21/25, he pardoned, and granted clemency to more than 1,500 people charged with crimes in the violent Jan. 6, 2021 attack. That was a sad day in U.S. history twice. It's a slap in the face to our country, justice system, capital police, and to all the law-abiding citizens, and especially to the children who have witnessed Trump's ill-fitted actions. Is this the kind of world we want our children raised? Where the leader of our
USA has no respect for the law, common sense morals, and good leadership. As it stands the puppeteer didn't pay. He's up there laughing at us along with his supporters ... and he'll continue laughing and being untethered because nobody can stop him.