Best Property Poems
Oh, my, how excited, elated, I would be
to receive sudden financial prosperity.
The true appeal would not be the tangible
but the freedom I have longed to handle.
It is so easy and fun to imagine
the idyllic dream-cottage I would fashion.
If my pen and intent have successful flair,
Perhaps I can transport us all there.
One super, great thing about my new home
is the location in a unique, universal zone,
where society, by law, must leave me alone
and never again cause me or mine to groan.
First, I’d hand my home dreams to Thomas Kinkade
whose involvement my enthusiasm would persuade.
He would build my perfect cottage in a glade;
quaint goose bump appeal with each modern update.
Country, antique and Quaker furnishings throughout
would be joyously bought using my new clout.
I would slowly decorate within and without -
extend the thrill, I would without a doubt.
A Walt-Disney-mind will fashion green grounds
over which perfect billowing clouds will abound.
Cute, gleeful birds will provide uplifting sounds
and precious flowers will pop color all around.
Somewhere on my lush, beautiful property
will be awesome fun for others and me;
ATVs, a bowling alley and bumper cars;
a racquetball court where everyone stars;
a baseball field where rivalry will spar;
an inviting lake twinkling beneath the stars
where fishing and swimming are never barred;
and, a babbling brook playing nature’s guitar.
Every morning will wondrously begin.
Before any voice has even spoken,
a gorgeous song will be piped in,
Cat Steven’s singing, “Morning Has Broken.”
ONCE HAD IS NOT A PROPERTY
Few are looking for what many got that I had
Much effort is a necessity as success is a work hard
Some few are looking for a shortcut; heard failure is a bad
Some rather than stress themselves beyond limit they hope on dad
First class became a requisite to get on the bench of elites; we read so mad
Struggling to make the best of results to get on that bench; 4.5 up is not hard
Two years on of great tidings; and our levels was busy beefing up to the points
On that very long awaited day of reckoning; we listened for the benchmark points
To our dismay; our cumulative grade points accumulations was no longer on point
It became so obvious to all that we had it before is no longer a property on point.
All men are born equal but not a guarantee to be the same
She chose son over father; the shrink said mother is insane
Now the confession; you are the son of your brother that is my son
What a calamity! If am the son of my brother, my father is whose son?
Sometimes lie can be better than the very truth that will stare at us
Let someone break the mirror for the truth it carries mockingly hurt us
This family once had a moment they thought will sustain them forever
Now in chaos and family havoc; incest with a curse they hope won’t last forever
As of the beginning from the family diary there was peace and understanding
Walls closed in now; they had it before is no longer a property of understanding.
Looked everywhere; even the very intellectual four walls of the dictionary
For the meaning of what happened that wasn’t fore-told by the visionary
Father wrote his last will and gave it to our family lawyer the other week
This week; he is dead and my name was nowhere to be found even in one sheet
This amazes everyone; mother couldn’t believe it for there was only one me
Let there be heaven for next time; I rather go to hell now than let this injustice be
As the son and the only child of his father I could only give the best I could give
The very sand in our house will testify if none would that it was exactly what I did
Didn’t get a judgement in court; the judge said it is my right but now was my right
Unfortunate; I was supposed to have it all is not at all a property that is my right.
Lordvip...
One can create great art of work,
In the name of Love...
But Love is not a property of intelligents,
Talented people, or so called great people.
I’m living on the street, that does not make
Me yours to feed with food I do not eat
Though I may lay my hat before your feet
My history is not your tale to take.
I’m old, I’m poor, I’m ill, I haven’t got
A pot to piss in, or a welcome mat
You still don’t get to patronise, or pat
My head as if you think I’ve lost the plot.
I’m pregnant, I’m in prison, I’m alone
I’m lost, I’m frightened in a foreign land
I’m vulnerable, but not, you understand
Your *****. My mind and body are my own.
So touch me not, nor tell my tale for me
For I am not your public property.
© Gail Foster 17th May 2018
Every day another woman gets killed by their mate, sliced, chopped and hacked
What is going on with these men,
When did a woman’s vagina become your private property?
You can cheat but she can't
You can move on but she can't
What the hell is that
According to you ...you own her life just because you shared a night
Big Man ...young boy ...stop killing our women, she has the right to move on
You can sleep with 10 other women but as soon as you think it's over you take a knife and slit her throat…seriously…what is good for the goose is for good gander …she can love another
You call that love…cheating with 10 others …she’s not your private property
You don't have the right to her life just because you shared a child ...when it’s over, it’s just over ...you don't have the right to her life
Big man ...young boy ...stop killing our women, she has the right to move on
Affects on Property Values
If you are group who will maintain authority
Why must other groups exist with inferiority
And no matter what the group may say
End up having feeling with much dismay.
Up others authority may often try to butter
But when houses appear to be cookie cutter
To many facts ourselves will have to resign
In property values there has been a decline.
When wrong way porta potty now does face
What a terrible shame and such a disgrace
And then how horrible everyone will feel
Occurred a decline in eye and street appeal.
A happy medium has to exist somewhere
As together things we will try to compare
So why should to owners we really sock it
Remove money invested from their pocket.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
Rights’ rollercoaster seats these three:
1 ~ What's yours is mine. If necessary
I'll take it by force and quickly flee.
Such a ruinous view lacks maturity.
2 ~ What's mine is yours, so you may see
when need unfolds or there’s calamity,
no holding back, you can count on me.
3 ~ What's mine is mine, my philosophy.
I keep my safe locked and hide the key.
Wealth yields a status hierarchy.
A biblical parable illustrates all three.
What’s mine is yours that you may see
some men sow, so OTHERS can reap.
When thieves took yours, they wounded thee.
What’s mine is yours that you may see -
the priest and Levite were not free.
Assets were theirs and theirs to keep.
What’s mine is yours that you may see
some men sow, so OTHERS can reap.
THE DREAM POLICE
INVADE MY HEAD
WHEN I STARTED TO DREAM,
WHILE ASLEEP IN BED.
THEY TRIED TO ACCUSE ME
OF UNAUTHORIZED THOUGHTS.
I TURNED THE TABLES
WITH WHAT I WAS TAUGHT.
MY TWO HEADED DRAGON
SNUCK UP FROM BEHIND,
SNATCHED THEM BOTH,
I SAID, YOUR ASS IS NOW MINE.
THIS IS MY WORLD,
I MAKE THE RULES.
YOUR UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY,
IS VERY UN-COOL.
MY TWO HEADED DRAGON
STARED DOWN IT'S FEAST,
AWAITING MY SIGNAL
TO DEVOUR THE BEASTS.
WHEN YOU DON'T REPORT BACK,
THEY'LL KNOW SOMETHING WENT WRONG.
ONE THING FOR SURE,
THEY CAN SEE THAT YOUR GONE.
I'LL DREAM UP A POEM,
HOW YOU WERE TRAPPED IN A MAZE.
LOST FOR YEARS,
MAYBE MONTHS,
EVEN DAYS.
I TURNED MY BACK,
STARTED WALKING AWAY.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED,
AFTER THAT,
ON THAT DAY.
REGARDING MY INTELLECTUAL
PROPERTY
RIGHTS.
MY TWO HEADED DRAGON
ALWAYS HAS THE LAST BITE.
He was a good guy
With a gold of heart
Million first he won
Million told him
Jack
Hey mate
You bright
I am only alone
Just I need other pair
U will be on state
Safe and sound
Don’t pay a penny
For sought of money
So the jack
In his lack
Locked up
The money
Never paid a penny
For the sought of money
He became
Owned Jack
In a hold of money
Of his own
Poor Jack is funny
Oh the man
He became
a property
of his money
inevitably cruel & heartless
is the first face that looks upon
a baby with the idea that they are
property,
s/he who is the caregiver,
seeing a child not as something to
watch over, but something to possess---
s/he who passes on this
mold of humiliation, of self-hatred,
of that very structure, that very
core,
which forms our adulthood,
which reveals our communal slavery
to ideas,
of which we become
property &
acts made out in the vein of those ideas,
of which we become
property &
cells in which we are packaged away forever,
shelved as property &
in graves beneath the ground in which we are
forced to become
“property,”
even to the most absurd of suggestions,
the most absurd of reasoning,
the most absurd of developments,
that anything was of intrinsic value
to begin with.
Captivating property with panoramic view
Painted with pride in red white and blue
Once standing proud and renowned everywhere
Foundation's eroding from lack of care
Wonderful neighbors, bilingual you know
French to the north and Spanish below
Beautiful shoreline on the east and the west
Lately her structure has been put to the test
Tenants won't mind if you take over the land
They have learned to bury their head in the sand
The property changes managers every four to eight years
Lately the managers have brought the tenants to tears
Selling out at this time may not be right
But the tenants won't mind, they've learned not to fight
The property is run from an ivory tower
Swallowed in greed and corrupted with power
The walls are collapsing, it seems such a sin
If you are going to rebuild, you must start from within
The property rules which were once black and white
Have faded to gray or are nowhere in sight
There are mountains and prairies, fields and streams
A place for your children and a place for your dreams
But now that I've thought about it you can go to Hell
This property is mine and I never will sell.
This poem is written for the politically correct morons in three piece suits
making military decisions affecting the lives of our troops, decisions they are not
qualified to make. They might be able to spell integrity and are able to use it in a
sentence but don't know how to use it in their lives. They have put this country
up for sale to the highest bidder. They have sold us out to OPEC and we are
supposed to bow our heads and just accept it. My Flag, My country. If you
don't like it LEAVE!!.
Consciousness is the scintillating blaze
alive on a smoldering log,
a flame emergent from complex interplays
of biology and environment.
Consciousness is greater than the cumulative
elements from which it is produced,
a roving free-form swirling cloud,
a wandering storm over the latest landscape.
Consciousness is always emergent
like an undulating flock of birds.
like the windswept grains of sand dunes.
Consciousness is collectively aware,
a normative quest linked to community survival,
a reaching within for a larger knowing.
Our God may be a force outside time and space,
a consciousness of collective consciousnesses,
a vast power offering the ethics of our survival,
an emergent property of our collective minds.
Independence panacea dashingly suggests
We purchase our palace hexagonal
Reoriented Nerida handed padlock, blessed
Fathoms red cross heiress of hospital
Imposter student enrols wild idea envisaged
Wider scope than she ever deserved
Ostentatious vistas brew broadwater blizzard
Novice nurse serves a nostrum absurd
Ultraviolet facet inferno disco jive diamond
Wears title queen of high hive divine
Fanciful feminine accepts novel assignment
Redhead remedy writes Chapter 119
Third of February
Thank you, dear old Doris
Oh sweet ocean waves
Lap onto my beach
Wash away all the filth
Your white tips can reach
Dig in with a force
That few understand
Return all the purity
Of youth to my sands
1.Me bhi drugs aur smuggling ki kamai say property ka business start karun??
2.Black money ko white kar loun aur kahun daikha Property Dealer hun??
Note.You are a two faced penny.