Long Shareholders Poems

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The Necklace

We heard her before we saw her not because she was loud but because she was close,  

she anchored herself making her presence felt; we paid the cashier and were about to leave 
with our easy day shopping. She asks the man behind the counter if there was a vacancy at 
this convenience supermarket (how modest are these retailers compared with their uber 
shop assistants) that elsewhere 'let her and others go', as though a treat like a parent 
telling a teen, 'OK you can go to the gig'. We turned. We knew her. She was short in 
stature but long in confidence. The counter man boss countered in politely, pleasantly, that 
he would if he could, when we intervened saying that we would recommend her 
employment - thinking that as customers, as shareholders - that employers give a toss! 



Ah the necklace! That's the difference, a sign of confidence, of individuality too; or what the 
hell until I'm employed again, 'I'm free!' of the clock, under the bosses under pressure, 
mates who are not so matey after all, of the tedium of the job classified by the uber 
class  'unskilled'. Have you ever come across a job without any skill?! 



The necklace, a symbol of her and ours encirclement by the cash nexus by whichever 
system of obtaining our daily bread in today's world  the least worst that has been devised- 
yet - so fulfilling in so many ways: going home well satisfied with bringing the goodies 
home to our families, to be well satisfied with the day's work or to moan because it has 
been a damned dog day like yesterday as tomorrow will be, but keeping poverty at bay. 



In these isles never have so many been in work (even if in a part -time, poorly paid, non 
unionised world should shock Walesa) but to anyone on the Dole willing and able to work, 
unemployment is a 100%. 



           May her necklace beads bode well for work for this hard working woman!   



May her necklace beads bode well for this hard working woman  moan
© Peter Dorr  Create an image from this poem.


The Cry of a Mere Kenyan

The CRY OF A KENYAN. 
Rihanna talks of The New America
American Oxygen
It seems same for poor Kenya
Our one and only treasure
Drowning in the dark
Driven by cartels of no concern
No care for the next generation. 
And here's my plead. 

Am lost within a nation
No name no trace
No location no possession 
No government but govern men
No freedom but free doom
Threats are the new proverbs
New slogans taking over, 
(guilty till proven rich) 
Corruption a current chess game
Leadership now a business gap
Leaders being Board Members
Cabinet being the shareholders
I wonder if we are the debtors
No say, since the burden is too big. 

Am tired, torn, worn and tortured for my silence
Enough, if the flowing blood
Enough of the illegal lands
Enough of the assassinations
Coz Kenya is now more less Hollywood. 
A crew hired to act the movie
The happenings seem dreams
All like fiction in The Originals. 
The only fact, that time is passing 

No longer can we entrust our lives on the government
No longer can we express out freely
No longer are our cases ruled with justice
Cases clog in the courts. 
No longer can even prayers shaken their utter
No longer do they fear the Supreme One
But in churches, all different 
Sited like an innocent infant
Faked sorrows while praying 
All aiming to win our trust 

Let's standout,Kenyans for Kenya
Let's open up eyes, and stop being fooled
Let's stop falling on their knees like slaves
A fact,they are meant to be our servants 
But act like we are theirs slaves
Some lie to be fighting for us 
But are after the seat, to grab the cheques
Wanting the privileges and Excellency
Let's stand for our poor Kenyans
Say No to their treachery
A New Kenya, me and you. — thinking about Kenya.
          courtesy of Kagz de falsa  as at 10/06/2016
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Ode To Occupy Wall Street

The middle class here can't be saved
When 0.001% act so depraved
Their wealth without end
These royals* still pretend
Did not come from us—their 
enslaved**


*The Royals: CEOs, Banksters, Revolving Door Regulators, The FED, Congressmen for sale, Lobbyists, Board Members of Big Corporations, Major Shareholders who vote for these Board 
Members, Corrupt Managers, Dishonest Used Car Salesmen, Presidential Candidates with more than two Residences, Elected Presidents (and their lackeys who pretend to regulate but look the other way)

**The Enslaved: Workers, Career Regulators who are trying to protect the public, Honest Hard Working Citizens, Students--some with oppressive loans, Immigrants, Soldiers, Police, Firemen and Firewomen, Parents, Children, Orphans, Disabled, The Sick, Small Business Owners (who don’t hire lobbyists), Volunteers, Health Care Workers, Welfare Recipients, Inventors, Investors, Entrepreneurs, Actors, Artists, Journalists who do in-depth investigation (not like those with FOX News, ABC Radio or many other of the outlets where they mouth the status quo), Non Profit Corporations, Charities, Teachers, Transportation Workers, Waiters and Waitresses, Dishwashers, Servants, Farmers, Managers, Ship Hands, Cooks, Unemployed   

Author' s Note:  Have been at Occupy Wall Street 8 days in the past two months--which is why I haven't been here--plus I have to work.  Miss you all, but it's for a good cause.  I am very briefly seen on Conan's feature: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog at Occupy Wall Street if you are looking for some humor with a little umph.
Form: Limerick

Red Earth

The Greasy Saddle Resturant and Night Club!
I blushed as I conceeded: she wished to name her nightclub "The Greasey Saddle". I had been seduced and fell into exhaustion from her nights of neocations. Al talks with her seemed to end as they began. Just like the music she had likened: or pretended to like she often critised most of the artist to whom she favored. I ate the cusie and tasted the drinks. I was lefted moved by her willingfulness to plan. She look to morning only as breakfast and every evening was capped off with a dessert. Sweetness in the tenderness of it's having. The fruits of the feilds were inspiration enough. The Greasy Saddle would exsist because the woman who wanted it gained the support of her shareholders. And it would truly exsist because the had enough history to story an Orcastra. Making The ballroom a place I wanted to be.Magnify the sheet music to see if the scriber's pen used cheaap ink. We needed to be critical of something!

The chicken wire would be tacked to the poles. A foot of space would be filled with burnt oyster sheell. The would pour cement walls over that to satisy the people who wish thick walls. We called the ballroom " The Red Earth" and the dressing area "Green Earth" Combined the Area would be refurred to as Oratorio Aer's ! The Concert area!
Form: Ballade

The Corporate

The Corporate 

Where did you get your ill gotten gains?

From broken backs and forgotten pains?

And will your wealth wash out the bloodstains 
From the blue collars of those that came 
To work for your pennies while you reign?

No matter to you, - you feel no shame...

For YOU live the life of luxury.

That is fine but you fail to see,
You garner wealth and give measly.
Then your shareholders want more from thee.

So you move the jobs to over sea.
It causes strife but
- you lack empathy .

You bend
You rend
You mend
And look

You begged 
And borrowed 
Bought
And took

You justify the pain that you cause,
“Just business” you say “no need to pause”

Rules don’t bind you, you just break the laws.

Your lobbyists mend by paying the pawns.
Your workers being thrown out on their front lawns!

But you don’t care to undo these wrongs...

All you’ve created is insubstantial.

Your sole purpose? to increase your financial 
Needs to support your gluttonous life,
While the workers toil and suffer in strife

People are starving, their kids they can’t feed...
Where does greed end? How much wealth do YOU need?


Premium Member Festive Season?

The leaves
From the trees
They fell
It was that time of year 
Nature looked unwell

The sun disappeared 
And out came the rain 
Happiness vacated 
What’s left of the brain

Festive season
The only saving grace 
To lengthen the holidays 
There was a case

All the hedgehogs
Went into hibernation 
And those from elsewhere
Filled up Heuston Station

Temperatures turning
Cold and breezy
For putting on a jacket 
The rest was easy

Autumn to Winter
And early Spring too 
Thanks to the conditions 
There was not much to do

Colourful lights shone 
From the shop fronts 
Passers by with the flu 
Spoke in coughs and grunts

Don’t forget those
Who were tight on cash 
For them
This ‘festive season’ 
Was nothing of the sort

Instead, it plagued them like a rash 
Shamed by the nouveau riche
Who spent money quite brash

The media claimed
We were on the mend
And could issue more social dividend

However, some of the shareholders 
In this society
Could not live
Off acts of piety

Something must give 
For those who are broke 
Food on the table
And somewhere to live
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Is Virtual Virtuous

'We don't like to look our kill in the face'
......Greg Palast

'The problem is, Corporations have neither 
bodies to kick nor souls to be damned'
......Andrew Jackson


Human emotion will be diminished, too messy.
Trans humanism is a creeping chokeweed.
Goggles will be required to view reality
as perceived by shareholders, corporate
pollinators are seeding their outcomes
directly into your brain. 'I remember when
free thought (the good) was individual
choice' We will wistfully explain to our
grandchildren.
I take my instruction from natural rights,
Awake, am I, and in control of my rightful,
equal place in the universe. Why are people
dying here? This is my life, and your free
life too. Life, all life, is precious and equal.

This is the message I receive from interplanetary
beings...sacred, are we, and we know this
to be true, we the people will open the doors
to outer space, and take our rightful place. 
No anonymous,  faceless Corporation will
take my freedom......join me.


10/13/16
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A Pill For This a Pill For That

A pill for this
A pill for that
A pill for your pet armadillo
dog or Rat.

A pill to make you sleep
A pill to wake you up
Drunk with water
from a glass or a cup.

A pill to take you up
a pill to take you down
A pill to chase away the blues
and make a smile from a thrown.

A pill to reverse the side effects of a pill
A pill for Humpty Dumpty
Tom Thumb and Jack and Jill.

A pill to make you virile
A pill for a aching head
One for the husband
the other for the unreceptive wife in bed.

A pill for swamp fever hemerodes and gout
A pill that you put where the sun don't shine
another for your mouth,

Pink yellow green and blue
even if you don't need to take them
there is a pill for you.

Shake me up I'd rattle
I gave more chemicals in me than blood
But still the Doctors swear their doin me good.

The Pharmaceutical and their shareholders
rub their greedy hands
and live in exotic lands.

A pill to make you younger
A pill to make you-

'' Live forever''!!!

      Never.



Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Jan
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Instruments of Idolatry


Idol makers,
apprentices of Tubal-cain
Cruel instrument inventors
of the bitter aftertaste pleasure,
and sweet deceit pain
Children of Jubal
delighting in the music of suffering
Instruments of oppression 
they have mastered well
From the mouth of dragons
breathing metal fire ... 
sends more and more to the watery grave of hell
Instruments of idolatry
be evil, deified works of the hands of man
The unlearned ones
worship the gun ... 
the jet plane
Bow on their knees to give thanks
to the tank ... 
the submarine
Every war machine has their devoted blessing
Instruments of cruelty,
whose promise of use
will give the builder and the buyer
power, riches and land — 
Slave shareholders of chained souls 
to body bag claim
Idol makers,
apprentices of the bittersweet Tubal-cain
Evil reprobate roots
rising from the spoiled sour Magog ground, 
at the harvest time of the second rain
Abominable Armageddon souls made to drink
the brimstone blood of their shame

Premium Member What I Think Will Come True This Year

The czars and the kings will hold on to their throne chairs
until they are dragged out kicking and screaming,
tweeting all the way to their dungeons.

Nuclear winter is a few years down the road, but global warming
will have people flocking to Kansas soon from Florida which 
will drop into the sea.

The Texaco Shareholders and their families will build a wall, 
and stay inside, breathing their own greed and selfishness.

Jesus will be saving other planets, not concerned at all about our silliness, 
as we have so many wanna-bees here.

Stocks will go up and down, so many times. It will be called the 
yo-yo year of the stock market. 

The girl next door will develop narcolepsy and 
refuse to come out of her house or answer the door, 
not telling us it has flown into agoraphobia.

It will be the year of the PIG, and the pig will be orange 
and be featured on balloons with diapers. 
A misogynist bully-pig.

This is what I think.

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