Living in the country
I finally understand,
The frustration of the farmer
and, the importance of our land.
With the senseless self destruction
of the air, our seas and land,
We destroy the strong traditions
passed down through father's hand.
And, traditions build foundations
that foreclosures strip away,
Polluting with our progress
more land with each new day.
Combining self destruction
with the banker's auctioneer,
We sacrafice the future
for the children we hold dear.
If we'd let the past be guidance
maybe then we'd understand,
And, learn from our forefathers
respect for life and land.
Written by,
Sheri Lynne Evans
October 11, 2008
There it goes
sliding down the throws
of market drop
just when you thought you were on top.
Look at it plunge
sinking everyone's 401s
and to think the government
once wanted to invest
in Wall Street's continual mess.
No worries
relax don't hurry
all those CEOs and financial gurus
hid their payouts, not in euros.
Millionaires and billionaires
have neither worry nor cares
with loads of currency to spare
and you in your beleaguered funds
fall low and lower expunged.
It's okay, we've seen it all before
foreclosures, bankruptcies for the poor
there always tents and boxes for the homeless core
what's a few unnoticed more
the rich can easily close their doors.
It seems you could never stay out of a casino.
As soon as you got paid, that is where you would go.
Your life became dependent on the roll of the dice.
Each crap table visited was as cold as ice.
Your financial ability was shrouded with doubt.
The money evaporated with each seven out.
With meeting your obligations, you didn't give a damn.
You got yourself in quite a financial jam.
Bill collections, repossessions, and foreclosures clouded your life.
Gambling was cutting you up like a knife.
Each day was an experience with monetary strife.
Those episodes are what decent people dread.
You must not be feeling pain now that you're dead.
All you have left are unpaid debts and liabilities.
I am forced to scatter you cremated ashes to the breeze.
POEMS THAT MAKE NO SENSE—2
their flesh bears no scars
only coldness forgotten
and bizarre
never pealing layers
of bleeding hearts
no strings attached
just beings from
odd spaceplaces
dead and dying to
be done with it
all in all their souls
are very still like
blotting paper
absorbing the pink
and blue emotions
of litmus reviews..
Blank…
landscapes on which to
pursue frightening
invasive
disclosures
thin lines of
multiple
foreclosures
mirrors unsheet
forgotten relics
of exposure
in shattered
gutted
shutters
© Kim van Breda—8 October 2o15
The world we live in is no joke.
Everything we have is going up in smoke.
The world's money is tight,
foreclosures have no end in sight.
Bankers gotta make deals
Car makers can't grip their wheels.
The world is at war and still there's no cure
for cancer that knocks on our door.
Our world is in trouble ,we need help on the double.
If we don't stop now and throw in the towel,
It isn't a joke
that we'll end up in smoke.
When life takes hold of you no mercy given
Foreclosures popular , the new age to walk ..driven
When your nerves are shattered
The home you live in seems scattered
Just breathe ~
children don't understand why you can't give money on the daily
life feels cold and The bills are unbearable to open it seems
When there is not enough food in the pantry for all
you feel you are losing as you begin to fall , loose sight of dreams
Just breathe ~
All these things are a test , every breath that counts.
It's the faith, and will to live , as anxiety mounts
In your darkest hour just call on his power
with the help of God above , you will surmount.
just breathe ~ just keep breathing
" Just another day in paradise Contest "
Time passes slowly as I wander the streets
Gas and food prices soaring high
Cars towed into the middle of the night
Foreclosures stealing neighborhoods ,
Soup kitchens provide free food
Jobs are scarce, illegal immigrants are not
Overcrowded tenement buildings with attitude
Drug lords , gangs and pimps, decaying city ruins
Gun shots heard everywhere, bodies litter the streets at high noon
Nature pounding on the doors of civilization
The line between man and beast grows thinner
Storms rage thru the night , the end in sight
Time passes slowly as I wander the streets
Disheveled and homeless, laying on the street,
They walk on past, stepping over his feet.
Noses in the air, disgust cloud their senses,
Looking at the homeless like public offenses.
Not knowing that he once before had it all
But it was so long ago, he struggles to recall.
He lost his six figure job and all of his money.
He didn’t invest so he feels like a dummy.
Met with foreclosures and many repossessions,
He hit the bottle and fell into depression.
Poverty sadly doesn’t have a face.
Any one of you could be in his place.
Transcend
Feel the wind
Soak up foreclosures inspirations
Never come to a stand still
Words with a true meeting place
Bringing into play actions trace
Occasions
First Middle and last in phase
Dress up
Dress down
Dress not at all
Lounge and bask
Sunshine's rays
Full mask
Water falls pressure
Blast
They travel
Distances
To work at the new factory
At the mall
To sell
To persuade
To show
To ring up sales
To stock shelves
And keep merchandise neat and attractive.
Customers
Look
Touch
Examine
Feel and perhaps
Buy.
Standing on their feet
Workers wonder
How does an
An $8.00 an hour job
Minus benefits
Zero coverage
Negative career
Compute
In their lives?
Their parents had jobs
Some for thirty years
In a real workplace
Free from outsourcing
Goods made in China
High unemployment
And foreclosures.
The store mannequin tells workers to break it up
Back to their counters
To do what they’re being paid for
But there is much more beneath the surface of his words
A threat
Real or imagined
The workers listen
Because there is nowhere to go
Nothing else to do.
In the new economy.
The young have energy
To organize
To demonstrate
To petition
For real change
Time is on their side
For a better tomorrow.
It's dark, and gloomy, and gray
The pall of the world shed tears on the grass
The cloud is a curtain all day
Winter is coming, the foreclosures won't pass
I long to sweat again in May
Florida is more sand than clay.
WHY DID THE GOVERNMENT ELECT TO BAIL OUT THE CORPORATIONS AND SEND
ABSOLUTELY NO AIDE TO HELP OUT THE LITTLE MAN…??
WE NOW DO HAVE A NEW ADMINISTRATION ABOARD, WHICH IS ACTUALLY TRYING TO
ISSUE US A NEW STIMULUS PLAN…
SO WITHIN THESE TROUBLING TIMES LETS ALL PRAY; THAT FOR THE SEAT OF THE
PRESIDENCY THE RIGHT MAN RAN…?
WITH FORECLOSURES AND UNEMPLOYMENT AT AND ALL TIME HIGH; LET’S PRAY THAT
PRESIDENT OBAMA CAN HELP US OUT OF THIS FINANCIAL JAM…!
ALL THE SUFFERING WE FACE PRESENT US WITH PAIN, DEJECTION, AND SORROW
BUT JUST REMEMBER THAT THE CRISIS IS JUST A NUMBER’S GAME; SO THE LORD SHALL
BLESS YOU ALL WITH A BETTER TOMORROW …!!
Turning the parchments pages
Of this tearstained scroll
Bombast tales, never, have I ever spoke
The writings of palladians life, unfolds
Beyond the reasons and beyond the rhymes
And beyond this once somnolent night
In front of the crowds, I have stood
Bowing toward these everbearing eversions
These sombered encores, for the disemboweled
Deafened ears and emptied eyes
The hues, of crimsons splashings
Gasping for breath, these souls of the plight
Blinding foreclosures, of what might have been
Sprinkled and shattered, shards of images
Dreams, that once were, now, splattered in red
Palladians parchment, of a ghost with no home
"Forever lost"....this light, this plight, this night
The night, of the living dead!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
......The Scroll.......
You’re one of them people that think they’re real cool
But man, I have seen a lot of fools just like you
I’ve seen people get killed for nothing in this town
And people die without ever having lived
Every time I look into your pretty lying face
Your eyes hit me like a twenty pound hammer
I’ve got red socks and sharp suspenders
A motorcycle and a couple of shotguns for fun
Let’s take a dance baby on your heated seat
We’ll wear Santa caps and sip cold vodka water
We both know that Mickey Mouse’s hands tell lies
Let's play with our eight grade pickled frog brains
Let the police dogs sniff for explosives
While we drink coffee and eat chocolate cheesecake
Let us genuflect before baked ham and bloodshot eyes
Let the mortgage rates drop and the foreclosures climb
Come on baby, straddle my motorcycle seat
Let’s blow this place, while the reporters print
What is obvious to the eye
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