Sterling silver thoughts
Wirds spoken of pure gold
Transfer of mutual funds bought
Bank account thousands fold
Whom am I to with drawn
Brain dead, no more communication bankrupt, no surplus in poverty.
Impovished, delinquent No monies
Mentallly arthritis in the brain
No home, no family just freedom rain
6/3/26
Written words by James E Lee Sr2026
Up the hill upon a rickety stool
I watched afloat
With clouds of lonesomeness for company
The richest streams flow
From a source of dreams they come
The wails a song so rich, yet the reality of the source so poor
Oh! Oh! Destiny unfulfilled, regrets come to life
It is a clash of reality that was, reality that is and reality yet to be
Hope, the fight that is our nature faintly lingers
Can he go on? Where is his chance? Does it exist at all?
With a chest heave and a pinch of optimism, the stage is set for reality yet to be
With the strings of destiny for a guide
Tomorrow takes root in the present
It is not his chance, destiny repeats it’s self
Oh! Oh! Destiny is yet again unfulfilled
Regrets roots even deeper and the clash continues like it never was
An endless loop of dreams flowing as tears
For that is the controversial destiny of the majority living and hoping for a destiny of the minority
Onen Aaron
I've always felt prosperous till Satan's Trumps,
They're American pirates and whores: Worship "Lust!"
Now I've ash on my face, and my gold smells like rust.
Institutions we trusted, have raped or dead umps.
The weak ape the rich and are quite willing tools.
Even though, with "redistricting," voting's just game,
For sure, people who write the rules aren't feeling shame!
Nouveau riche, brainwashed savoir-faire, don't know they're fools.
America's traitors cut tax for the rich,
Even though they're not there yet, they hope to join ranks,
But the rich are amused by this, tell them "No thanks!"
"You just sold out your brothers! Fools! Back to your ditch!”
Long Tooth
November 12, 2017
I fade into shadows of loneliness,
And disappear where the darkness now falls.
Silence I seek, not from reclusiveness,
Rather a guise when the emptiness calls.
How long the prisoner of sanity?
Humbled by the still coldness of the play.
The twists and turns of its insanity.
When the dark of night took over the day.
Left in a puzzled realm of confusion.
As pieces lay broken, scattered about.
Sudden fragileness of my illusion.
When the audience of despair walked out
How quiet the hall when a play withdrawals.
This empty domain where my heart now sprawls.
The world turned silent with a strange discourse.
A sadness covered with its darker shade,
To extinguish heart's light without remorse,
And blinded the eyes when its light did fade.
Captured by darkness enduring its pain,
Lost in this world, a now hidden face.
All the tomorrows will find only rain.
Touched by madness that my sorrows embrace.
Dying within with a heart that won't glow.
Frightened by silence when pauses depart.
Alone on an edge with nothing below.
This lonely despair, this sadness, this heart.
To weep in the mist where loneliness feeds.
As this severed heart lays open, now bleeds.
1/7/16
For the contest Any Poem, sponsor Broken Wings
Rich- impoverished
Multimillionaire
In heart miniscule love left
is just a damp squib!
© Anulaxmi Nayak,2015
For many generations
Impoverished nations
Gather around
On dusty ground
To wait and lament
On a vain life spent
Scrounging for food
And praying for good
But feeling left
Bereaved and bereft
They fuss and they fret
For they feel they don’t get
But looking around
On sun hallowed ground
They could see the wheat
Of heavenly meat
Lying in piles
For miles upon miles
But they look at their noses
In religious poses
Missing the sight
Of a loving God’s might
In this world the biggest crime
Is to term anyone unholy
And the biggest lie is to be claimed
By some one like divinity
In fact here none is devil
Nor any one is like an angel
Inside us we all nourish an animal
Our success depends on
How well we tame our pet
And how well we harness our goodness
By virtue of our deeds and contributions
Done out of love
But never for the fear of retribution
We ask for more and more
At the places of worships
As we never go
To show any gratitude Or express our thanks
The notion of charity appears
By recognizing the infinite benevolence of nature
The purity of heart comes
With the freedom of selfishness and desire
The lower desires of us go
When we are inspired to do better
And moved by an urge to share
As we become rich by what we give
But impoverished we become when we only receive.
Deliver Me From the Impoverished Masses
By Elton Camp
Counting my money is my favorite thing to do
Those who are as wealthy as me are very few
One thing in life I have learned is always true
People succeed financially if they only want to
All it takes is rich parents to help you get a start
And then ruthless determination & a hard heart
Only if your Certified Public Accountant is lax
Is it necessary to waste money by paying tax
The little people are nothing but worthless slobs
They who fill the many menial, low-paying jobs
Their basic needs they dare to feel they should get
Seeing such arrogance nearly makes me have a fit
What right have they to housing or medical care
And it’s nothing to me if their cupboard is bare
Some accuse me of normal lifestyle to be blind
Untrue--I just make sure I’m never of that kind
Poor people will always manage to be around
I admit they disgust me and I won’t back down
You asked for an explanation
for a flame. A bat
flies in a passage of pain.
A poem becomes an accuser.
They were drowning
the moon
in a lake of blood.
A poem sails like a kayak.
The snow was falling
like drifting lovers.
Stains were becoming bits of screams.
A poem delivers an echo.
The fear turns you blue
in midst of knocks.
Doors had the outrageous locks.
A poem walks like a truth
Satish Verma
She drooled over
the soggy fries
discarded in
the foul rust bin.
She feasted with
the famished flies
and cockroaches.
She bathed her throat
with the drink tagged
imitation ---
quenching the thirst
of her dried hoarse
esophagus.
In occasion,
she would look
at the portraits
of the people
inside and wished
for the same fate.
As they leave the frames,
she begged for
old alchemist mints
and cherished them
like fine aurum
that can be pawned
for a treasure
more valuable.
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