Long Earner Poems
Long Earner Poems. Below are the most popular long Earner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Earner poems by poem length and keyword.
(Heavy Trap Soul Beat Drops - 808s Deep, Melodic Synth Pads, Snare Rolls)
(Verse 1) Yo, uh, stepped in this , drippin' like Poseidon Neck froze, wrist froze, yeah, my diamonds speak volumes, no lyin' They see the glow up, thinkin' fortunes just fallin' But they ain't see the trenches where the hunger was callin' Now I'm Wall Street slick, with P-Valley in my stride Old money, new money, now money hard, yeah, that's the vibe.
(Verse 2) Used to scrape the plate, now I'm stackin' up the blue strips es used to curve, now they sendin' nude pics Remember ramen nights, now it's lobster tail dinners Watchin' cash grow, in 2024, market winners Eight hundred billion, that's the talk on these streets Old money, new money, now money hard, can't be beat.
(Verse 3) Got that savage flow, 21 in my demeanor Ice cold heart, makin' bread, yeah, I'm a earner They hate to see a chick rise, from nothin' to somethin' tried to check my crown, told her, "Keep on frontin'" This ain't no fairytale, this the real grit and grime Old money, new money, now money hard, all the time.
(Verse 4) Yeah, I move like a don, every step calculated Bentley truck swervin', while these haters just debated How I flipped the script, made somethin' out of zero Now they whisperin' my name, call me neighborhood hero But I ain't savin' none these clowns, they can stay behind Old money, new money, now money hard, peace of mind.
(Verse 5) Cardi B body, yeah, the sex appeal lethal Got these niggas hypnotized, wallets gettin' feeble Diamonds on my body, shinin', blindin' every eye Got 'em mesmerized, thinkin' they can buy my time But loyalty and respect, that's the currency I crave Old money, new money, now money hard, own the wave.
(Outro) Uh, yeah, this that boss anthem, for the grinders, for the hustlers From the bottom to the top, we turned into money monsters They call it luck, we call it grind, dedication, no sleep Now we countin' stacks, while they barley make ends meet Remember the name, , etched in gold, never fade Old money, new money, now money hard, we gettin' paid.
(Beat fades out with ad-libs: Yeah, uh huh, Cheeze, Bardi, 21 Savage flow, get that money, gone!)
I retired gracefully, happily, knowing I could never be fully completely replaced even to this day.
I was slick, photographic, revered by so many, loved by a few, heavy, a bit conceited but in a good way.
Diligent children hid me in boots, closets, drawers, or moldy piles of black and white laundry where I rarely had to stay.
I came out in the early 1900’s, evolved so well I didn’t recognize myself by 1959, my heyday.
I was routinely hidden under bedclothes, mattresses or pillows; contraband, peeked at by flashlight.
I belonged to the whole family, but whoever found me first hid me well; I was never shared outright.
My captor would slide me out silently, hoping their siblings would not discover me and start a fight.
I was the prize of the month, the trophy of the hour, the coveted, revered, brightest of the bright.
Brothers and sisters fought each other to pull me out of their rural mailboxes to hide me under the couch.
Coveted, cherished, loved, revered; fought over, fawned over, poured over; I was never ever like a slouch.
I was thrilled that I was circled, starred, torn up, folded, figures were written all over me, and it caused a little ouch.
A big part of Sears, and Christmas too, I brought dreams, hopes, and anticipated joys, causing more than one wage earner to grouch.
If I were a fly on the wall at a DNA office,
I’d see one mama budgeting child support for two maybes,
hoping the high-earner wins the paternity sweepstakes.
A grown man doing a victory dance he practiced in the car,
while another looks stunned like the swab repossessed his last hope.
A grandma wiping tears of joy because her real grandbaby finally found her.
A whole couple discovering they’re cousins and breaking up mid-hug.
Three siblings realizing the middle one belongs to nobody in the room.
Just a fly dodging swats while families get swabbed,
watching bloodlines flip faster than reality TV plot twists.
How can I mingle with the poor, I’m a millionaire,
My intellect superior,
And the masses inferior.
I am a street sweeper, my name is Jane,
Passers by think I’m insane,
I am the sole earner in a family of five.
I have been voted in as a president,
Those idiots out there, who stand for hours,
Just to wave to me in heat, snow or showers.
I am an un-qualified plumber, I fix toilets and drains,
The hoi polloi insinuate I have no brains,
But it pays a doctor, and feeds us our daily bread.
I sing at concerts, I fill halls and sport stadiums,
Fans love me and know I’m a treat,
Four thousand dollars for a front seat.
I am a train driver and get home very late,
Dinner always on the table prepared by my mate,
My salary is meager but my heart full of faith.
I am a film producer and bring starlets to fame,
Nothing’s changed, they climb ladders as yesteryear,
Come here and do as I say, good girl, what a dear.
I live on this block and get paid for my tricks,
My mom died of drugs, and my dad from drink,
I was left holding the proverbial baby.
I am a porter and carry bags for the rich and famous
My work environment is a 5 Star hotel,
My digs in the back yard of a dump, with a bad smell.
MY INSPIRATION FOR THIS POEM
Did you watch the film ‘Don’t look up’
Where the rich ruled the roost,
And a comet hits and destroys planet earth,
Well, the film ends with the elite on a plane,
Anyone with wealth, power, or fame,
Flying to a destination unknown to the world,
Far from earth, a paradise they thought,
As they came down the plane stairs,
Filthy rich, all billionaires
Met by prehistoric dinosaurs
Who devour them, tearing all to pieces,
All life that descends from that plane, ceases.
Karma it seems does exist,
As depicted in this film script.
glimmering, glistening , the stars in this night sky
Oh they can’t, oh they can’t. They can’t Compare to these bright city lights
The silent screaming and pain can’t compare to these comfortable nights
When the darkness takes over and the stars so far away ;yet distinctive in my eyes
Tho the beauty in those are nothing compared to the colors in my mind
My lies fall towards your lingering eyes
these pathetic screams these bright city lights
Remixing;delusion for simple human gaze
Identity lost, personality stolen, painted vividly upon my face
Oh the way you beat me with your emotions
Oh it can’t compare, can’t compare it can’t compare to when you hold me tight
Oh the pangs from the hunger so well deserved still can’t get my body right
The butterflies ate from quick glances ripping out of my spine
the mesmerizing love given yet not earner these bright city lights
as the dimness on my mind contrast your colorful, beauty-filled mind
I watch your lingering judgment filled eyes as they take ahold of mine
The beating up of one’s self
The shame for a meal eaten and thrown up later
These city lights watch as I beg for help
these city lights are my savior
From butterfly so social
To flowers planted within walls
From infatuation to deep thoughts reserved for later
to the loss of motion,
You watching as I crawl
Crawl into my position as a floorgazer
These bright yellow-gold-silver lights brighten up this happy town
More than the smiles of the loveless and lost
More than the switches inside where one
Lies safe and sound
these bright city lights seen free of cost
these bright city lights are the only thing keeping me around
I listen to the Leftists
I listen to the Rightists
They are not among the brightest.
The Leftists want a $15 minimum wage, a guaranteed job
For every wage-earner in the US, be he gentleman or slob.
They want free health insurance, free college tuition
They haven't the slightest economic intuition.
With all that guaranteed government stuff
Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer will have it exceedingly rough.
Though the federal tax form itself will be razor-thin:
How much do you make? -- Send it all in!
Of course, those on the Right are not a whit better
When it comes to the President's outrages, they're aides and abettors
His insults, his outright lies, they dismiss as 'inconsequential'--
As long as stock and bond market gains remain monumental
After much consideration and not inconsiderable thought
I've reached a conclusion, one that's dearly bought:
A Pox on the Left and a Pox on the Right --
I'll not purchase a house; I'll not be a renter
I'll just pitch my tent smack dab in the Center
May 03 2018
Morris is tabloid attracting and affluent
but too extreme to make me
the constant victim of his insults
and a prisoner to his pride.
Curtis is a reflection of current culture.
Yes he is, but that’s not my ride,
so much piercing and tattoos
makes him a human shrine
and a scary movie beyond an adult audience.
Jason has swag beyond the radiance
of an intimidating hip hop mega star
but is it his lips-licking, dressing malpractice
or a voice which is a mixture of rock and reggae?
Not exactly what I’ve dreamt of since childhood.
Matt is modest, corporate and a very find dude.
Business will always be his true love
making me a mere contracted mistress
who will fit in only when rarely needed.
He’s a good guy, but will be a terrible lover.
Okay! Nicholas is another, simple and a soft earner.
What! Low income dudes? Pleeeaaaase!
The heavens and demons aren’t related
so also are the winter and the desert.
I may be a church girl, but one who gives fat offerings.
Oh miss! You are one of a rare kind my dear
since your eyes are microscopic and your taste insurmountable.
Your virtues then would be complete
when you have gross patience so infinitive.
It should then not be a heavy task for you
to wait for the only perfect fit of your choice
because Jesus Christ is coming very soon.
Achievement, 1 of 2
—Time to share—
I grew up in a slum where the gang members,
at the risk of their lives, fight over their turf.
My lullaby was red and blue warning lights
flickering from dashing squared cars and ambulances,
and my bedtime story was the blow of sirens passing through
the streets and alleys between boarded up abandoned houses
standing in rows here and there.
My mother, though loved me dearly,
happened to be a high school dropout
and single who brought this world to me at her teens.
She was a minimum wage earner, therefore, her life was
nothing but struggles, kept body and soul together in misery
between laid off to employed to laid off, between paycheck to welfare
to paycheck that is thinner than a sheet of paper.
Although under educated, she was a pious woman,
and that is why her keen desire was not her son to follow
the steps of her mistake and suffer like his mother.
Her wish was to raise her only child to be a decent citizen
with a noble profession and thereby add some value to the community,
return some good things to the society.
Apart from mother’s great expectation, however,
I was a disobedient rogue child, a kind of problem kid
on the block when I was a lad. I got into bad company
and led astray by them, was irregular in attendance to a school
and cut classes whenever I felt like.
Until one day I learned of my mother’s tragic death
on the way back home from her work,
she was struck by a stray bullet
in the midst of gang members cross fire.
Recently, I awoke
from a very specific dream--
In which I expressed
my getting-a-B.A. scheme
A long-time ambition
I've put on the back-burner
Delayed because I'm not
much of a wage-earner
It'd be easier to succeed
with a B.A. under my belt?
Hard to get there
with low self-esteem (as I've felt)
Plus it'd make my outlook on life
more well-rounded
Even if all that online study
makes me feel grounded
But as for a potential professional job
without a degree
I'm looking into Indexing --
might be just right for me!
Then if I can support my education
financially that way
I hopefully will join the ranks
of B.A. grads someday...
Whether or not I go after
this accomplishment, I will age
The question is, by that time,
do I wish to be more sage?
But I tend to get discouraged
and distracted; so no promise
Perhaps I can enlist
the smarty-pants prayers of St. Thomas