Best Purchasing Poems
Three men each grew a precious rose
They all had different thoughts
Of how to raise and nurture them
Of the outcomes that they sought.
The first man shirked all effort
Just plunged a hole within the soil
His rose grew, waned then wilted
It suffered from his lack of toil.
The second man possessed great intent
By preparing fertile ground
Purchasing almost everything
Gave his rose all that could be found.
This rose developed entirely spoilt
It flourished better than a weed
Except it too deformed and shrivelled
When he could no longer feed its needs.
Our third man was a pauper
However his heart was like a king
All he had was time and love
But he knew his rose would sing.
He too prepared quite fertile earth
But he never spent a cent
He freed the dirt for solid roots
He knew this rose was heaven sent.
He spent what he could just afford
Although mostly invested time
Talked and fussed and loved his rose
No surprise it grew up really fine
This man finally met his grave
Wilted then died when he grew old
His rose still grows and prospers
It flowers so bright and so bold.
Precious gifts require attention
Only exceptions grow up wild
Treasures need time and care
Imagine each rose could be a child.
I fear people have lost their way,
hatred and lies now rule their day;
for morals faded over time.
Purchasing political will,
Big business is pardoned to kill
and perpetuate fear through crime.
Politicians kneel down to God,
and yet, their devotion's a fraud.
For some, faith is but a pastime,
a mockery of true belief.
Exploiting people's pain and grief,
greed fuels anxiety's climb.
Alternative truths are just lies—
merely bigotry in disguise.
"Love thy neighbor" was God's decree,
not "manipulate them with fear."
Such behavior warrants a tear,
and I believe God would agree.
And yet evangelists meanwhile
preach that immigrants are hostile.
Heaven's gate is locked; love's the key,
and no other will get you through.
Come judgment day, God will judge you;
that’s Jesus's Divine decree.
The Complex Math of Living
By Franklin Price
4/3/2015
The complex math of living
In this 21st Century
Is all about the numbers
Don't add up for you and me
Billions of people live on earth
Trillions of dollars spent
To cost a million of either
Would not even make a dent
Such thinking is the danger
To see just what I say
Look around the equal sign
Does not add up today
Nor do the powers want it to
For millions count as one
It's not too much to buy them
With trillions it is fun
Subtract the cost of purchasing
A people or a place
Divide and power conquers
Much of the human race
People multiply like rabbits
Power needs so few of them
Attract a small percentage
Find the ones whose wits are dim
Make promises that can't be kept
To add more to the crowd
Truth lost in presentation
When the words said very loud
Convince them all to work as one
To follow formulae
Put the blinders on them
They will follow 'til they die
If you are of the masses
Check the math of what I said
Don't follow power blindly
Don't support them 'til you're dead
Steel upon endings
Taken by fate, to a subway of feelings
Caverns which reap what I call
Beacons of hope at the end often stealing
Fixtures in spite of it all
Counting the tracks of a firm destination
Purchasing tickets to share
Fear stands my heart of my own hesitation
Wondering if you are there
Whistles a’ call and the watchman he carries
Candles of flickering flame
Dancing like wings on the shoulders of fairies
Illumined this night to remain
Standing alone on this platform libation
Drinking the sights I do see
Pacing my walk as my feet they do hasten
Bounding so effortlessly
Hearing the rumble of steel upon endings
Narrow the edge where I wait
Moving along with the answers depending
Finding the hour is late
Darkness invades past the lights ever keeping
Colors to turn on in time
Riding this train of a heart constant weeping
Until the day you are mine
Taken, by fate, to a subway of feelings
Caverns which reap what I call
Beacons of hope at the end often stealing
Fixtures in spite of it all
Counting the tracks of a firm destination
Purchasing tickets to share
Fear stands my heart of my own hesitation
Wondering if you are there
Whistles a’ call and the watchman he carries
Candles of flickering flame
Dancing like wings on the shoulders of fairies
Illumined this night to remain
Standing alone on this platform libation
Drinking the sights I do see
Pacing my walk as my feet they do hasten
Bounding so effortlessly
Hearing the rumble of steel upon endings
Narrow the edge where I wait
Moving along with the answers depending
Finding the hour is late
Darkness invades past the lights ever keeping
Colors to turn on in time
Riding this train of a heart steady weeping
Until the day you are mine
Try to get out of bed early, try to make your bed. Inhale.
Your off-white bedsheets haven’t been washed in a month.
Try purchasing a new detergent, one of those that’s petal-scented:
2 in 1 Aroma Boost Spring Daydream Wash.
Try smiling in the mirror; especially
If you have dimples. They’re the new “it” thing.
Inhale. Do yoga.
Do yoga and dance. Catch your breath.
Go on YouTube and search up Boho Beautiful, pretend
you’re a clean-girl white-flare has-it-together pilates almond mom.
Make a protein powder banana-peanutbutter shake. Ignore its soil taste.
Inhale and purchase some lululemon leggings.
Write out your feelings. Inhale. Lie to your journal about
the ache hosted in your ribs.
Call it your “self-reflective daily diary,” where you
Write about a fond memory, your [insert therapy term] place, pretend
your year-long headache isn’t pumping your eyes out anymore.
Write about your childhood. Write about the dog you never had.
Act like you finally know what’s caused your hollow.
Travel. Book your Ryanair all-exclusive roundtrip to
Hanoi. Book a tourist bus. Go on a zip line.
There, you will find yourself, and when that stranger
Puts a conical hat on your head
You will thank them for healing you.
You will return, completely changed, smelling
Like hibiscus flowers. Inhale and call your friends.
They’d love to hear from you. Just not
during your 5 AM seeping into icy bathroom floor tiles,
or the third day in which you’ve needed to take extra sleeping pills
that made the window light look hazy.
Call them. Just make sure it isn’t during their own
self-reflective cinnamon candle eating ritual.
NEED MORE TIPS ON HOW TO FEEL BETTER?
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Inhale. There’s still time to save yourself.
When production is at an all time high,
but the few who are employed are struggling to get by,
because purchasing power has taken a rapid descent,
Everything Soon Stops, no more working system.
We are all currently headed in that direction,
the inevitable collapse of the monetary system,
not just in my country, but all of the world's nations,
who continue to enforce this failed antiquated system.
This will not require the overthrow of any government.
Just leave it alone and continue being complacent,
and it will overthrow itself in the end.
The transition can be either peaceful or violent,
but if we are to make a peaceful transition,
we must all begin some immediate planning,
because I can see this all very likely happening,
within the time frame of the present generation.
A time is reached in life if one remains
Alive to tell the tale: those certain things
He once performed routinely, ascertains
The notion, habits must desist which brings
About awareness: His mortality.
Employment ends; Retirement is here.
The monthly saving wanes. Frugality
submits to lavish tastes. The thirty year
Installment loan is paid. But now he’s glum.
He now forbears purchasing bananas
That are unripe for fear his death may come
before they ripen. Shakespeariana
Unfolding: Final act that yields a frown:
The man’s demise, they ring the curtain down.
To the powers that be.
I've allowed you to view
my weakness like an
opportunity. Give school
children fatherless
babies, and preach their
nudity to the
congregation. Pagan
prostitute purchasing
pastor preaches to a
godless nation. Commit
adultery upon the body
of Christ and a ct
sinless. Thou shalt not
eat of the fruit of good
knowledge, lest thou be
skinless. Take a wrong
turn like Brenda and get
hit by a bullet train. Of
alcohol abuse, drug
addiction, and mental
strain. We don't live
under the same sun.
When you were
wealthy, my poverty
had already begun. You
got to university, I died
from hunger in Somalia.
Because of my skin, I've
become victim to
sickness, AIDS and
malaria. My protests
end in bloodshed
because of gunshots. If
we hungered not to
perish, we'd do nothing
to fill those empty pots.
String my wings with
the chords of your
swollen affection. Allow
your Jacobs to rule the
nation, they're the
masters of perfection.
Your nation of rapist
gay men has narrowed
the country's vision. You
sodomize my sisters in
your office,under cop
supervision. You molest
my brothers and torture
a nation. Kill my spirit
entirely, and resurrect
an evil nation.
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.
I was hoping to find my true love
in the city bars at night,
but I just couldn’t meet a woman
who, for me, was a match just right.
I was starting to lose hope
of ever knowing love that way,
when I met my darling, sweetheart
in the grocery store one day.
I was hoping to find knowledge
in the schoolbooks that I read,
but I just found the facts and figures
getting all mixed up in my head.
I was starting to lose hope
of ever becoming really smart,
then, when I stopped analyzing everything,
my education began to start.
I was hoping to make my fortune
by winning the lottery,
but the money I spent on tickets
just added to my misery.
I was starting to lose hope
of my fortune coming along,
when I met a country singer
and he invested in my song.
I was hoping to find forgiveness
by confessing to my priest,
but I found even with all the penitence
my sinning did not decrease.
I was starting to lose hope
of saving my mortal soul,
but when I allowed for self-forgiveness
I started to reach my goal.
I was hoping to find happiness
by purchasing luxuries galore,
but I found no matter how much I had
I just wanted to own more.
I was starting to lose hope
of ever becoming a happy man,
when my wife gave me some children
and happiness I could understand.
So, never give up hope
of realizing your lifelong dreams;
things can always become better,
no matter how bad it seems.
And, when you least expect it
your hopes will sure come true -
This I know will happen
because it’s now what I hope for you.
Here's an oxymoron
that's sure to brighten your day:
being the selfish head honcho,
in the end never pays;
purchasing personal glory
at the cost of a friend.
But being selfless
helps out everybody else
(and as an added bonus
even yourself)
NOTE: Haven't written anything new since I left Idaho, so I thought I'd share an older poem instead ...
Into the sandbox
Come the flappers and the seekers
Like puppets on strings
Dancing to their own childish whims
The profiler watches
As they think they sing
The poison in their stories a piercing ring
Like chess moves, piece by piece
Slowly
From a blank slate
We see the wrong turns inflicted at childhood
Them thinking they are so misunderstood
Sandbox babies
Making sandstorms
Proclamations of their righteousness
Even as they commit both big and petty sins
Narcissistic egos purchasing mirrors at IKEA
So they can stare at their own opinions
Locking their minds in the open mirrored box
No refunds
Palm Sunday
Shopping and hawking,
purchasing and vending their wares;
the observant noticed;
the indifferent paid no mind;
the powerful perturbed by all the noise
make their way to confront
and charge the man
some call anointed.
Loud and raucous singing
disturbs the quiet of the status quo.
Those who should be seen and not heard
are making the utmost clamor;
appreciated by some;
angering others
insisting they turn the volume down.
Boulders will sing
while trees will give their branches
to welcome the mighty
if the lowliest of participants
are muzzled by the powerful,
but they sing in applause;
an affront to the self-made mighty.
Shaking off the winter greys and
waving springtime green,
a shout welcomes the anointed one.
Thrown off fashion lines the path
covering eager rocks
postponing the clearing of their throats.
Join the cavalcade
and raise the benediction;
awaken the sleeping alleluias
and the slumbering hosannas.
Join the lowest of the low
and applaud the highest of the high.
But beware,
the shoppers are eager to buy,
even if the cost is high.
And the hawkers are ready
to sell their merchandise.
S he washes the dishes for a dollar an hour.
M akes enough to buy for one, some milk and some flour.
I nflation has reduced the purchasing power.
L ittle kid at home makes it all worthwhile,
E very night when he eats and sleeps with a smile.