Long Wallets Poems
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only in america land of hopes and dreams. that is what they tell you they try to
make you believe that if you want it bad enough theres nothing you cant acheive.
just shut your mouth and do without while they all succeed .they say there trying
to help people but there hearts are filled with greed. its all about the mighty buck
and they will step on you and me just to get all they want .how much dose one
man need. they tell you they are trying theres nothing they can do to make the
dream happen for people just like you .theres people on streets that dont have a
home and some of them are there of no fault of there own. trying to feed there
family and come in from the cold. these are americans living in the streets men
women and children denied the american dream .theres more deniles than help
for them but thats the way it goes. they will look the other way and leave you in the
cold. i speak these words from the heart becuse you see .not so long ago those
people i talk about were me .me and my family they closed the factory where i
worked they took my job away. they moved it over seas so they could save a
dollar they destoryed pepoles lives but that did not seem to matter. they had
more money to make ther wallets fatter. we all work so hard for this dream. and
you think your safe but i hope you all here this they can take it all away .we are the
richest country in the wourld that is what they say. tell that to all the people that
are on the streets today. mr.bush dont you think its time to give back the dreams
you promis .i know i want mine and millions of other people that you push from
your mind .with every dollar wasted on things that do no good. we are asking for
your help we know you will make it wright .give us back our dream so we will be
aright .where not asking for much just our basic needs home food and health
now thats the american dream .so as christmas comes this year mr.bush this
poem is for you .i know you will never see it but i can only pray that some how this
is sent to you .and you will see that it is better to give than it is to receive .so on
this happy holiday all we want this year is to get our american dream back and
live in peace next year. god bless and merry christmas
Form:
Collect my thoughts and scatter them,
With wild and unleashed abandon.
Close your eyes and embrace the dark,
See many a thought at random.
Picture green lush countryside,
Try to imagine autumn’s hue.
From sun shine to a rainy day,
From cloudy skies to blue.
Where waterfalls run their path,
Through fields with trees of gold.
Ponies graze contentedly,
They grace our land of old.
From village church where clock's chime,
To sheep grazing upon lush countryside.
The busy bustling London streets,
Breathtaking mountains that many climb.
Alas fading now is this beauty,
Whilst passing into the new.
New laws are made each passing day,
Regardless of our point of view.
Our backs are lashed with costly whips,
The more we work, the more we pay.
Baring the scars for listening,
To the spineless deciders of today.
Remember once beauty our land didst hold,
To all hearts dear and true.
Its sinking into fears dark depths,
And there’s nothing we can do.
Forgetting are we of what makes sense,
Of who we are and what is right.
Where freedom of choice is gradually wiped out,
Our identity torn asunder, loosing sight.
We’ve welcomed in so many,
We’re splitting at the seams.
Conformed to foreign laws,
And changed our ways it seems.
To sit back and see our leaders,
Turn us into something that we’re not.
It’s sad to see what makes us who we are,
Turn into something so easily forgot.
Were once our rights took precedence,
Now cast aside to form a queue.
How sad the fear that motivates,
Those who decide, and who pays..Me and you!
And what of us insignificants?
The workers who pay for their clothes.
Who feed them and keep their wallets fat,
Who down the river they have sold?
And at night when dreams come to them,
Never will they have the privilege to view..
A picturesque proud and calm country,
Stolen from all of us, because we let you!
Oh once great nation, so proud and true,
Once we were united.
Through draining choice we have lost sight
Not believing, forgetting what right is.
We still have belief in our lands beauty,
We have deep rooted loyalty inside.
To see plainly and clearly see what is right,
So our identity and Britain can survive.
©.L.Kelly
Thanks;
it's been quite a year,
it flew on by.
Now it's that time again;
...to show our appreciation.
So...thanks;
thanks for nothing, that is.
Thanks for the food that disappears tomorrow,
thanks for the poverty and all the sorrow.
Thanks for making my rent run dry
...and sending our future into the sky.
By the way,
thanks for making my mother cry.
Thanks alot for the black eye
...and all the stress related violence that didn't have to be.
It really gives life new meaning.
Thanks for every tear I've cried,
thanks for caring if I die;
I know that if I get sick you'll really care.
Don't stare!
I've got no money anywhere.
Thanks for that, by the way.
The get sick and pay,
It's good way to deplete the population.
You guys really have a heart.
Don't pout, this ain't no guilt trip.
I know you don't care a bit.
You'd only cry if you dropped your wallet.
Thanks for inventing wallets, by the way.
They really save the day.
For whom though?
If we only had some dough,
we'd pay with cookies.
Now that's a way to live
...if you ask me.
Where was I?
Oh yeah...
Thanks!
Thanks for nothing, that is.
People only thank you if you give them something.
What have we got to say thank you for?
We give you everything,
you ask for more,
we ask for something,
we get the door.
Thanksgiving is misleading;
no one gives a hoot
...and for everyone that's giving,
no one gets the loot.
What can one expect?
The day is based on lies,
the pilgrims and all their crimes
are rewarded with a holiday.
Do the natives eat their turkey on this day?
Do the natives say thank you for forgetting us?
Taking our land from us?
Tainting our history?
Do real Americans eat turkey?
I doubt it.
Thanks for corrupting our food, by the way.
Thanks for destroying our water supply
...and all the crimes that you deny.
It gives daily life a certain charm,
all this harm.
Thanks for putting our lives in danger,
blaming it on strangers while you eat your caviar.
Can you not see the hypocrites that you are?
Are your mirrors broken?
I cannot find a single thing to be thankful for.
In the meantime, I hope the store accepts these cookies.
Form:
(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!)
Hi, how are you, my name is blank to your sight just another passer-bye,
Nice to meet you, others of your gentle gender call me Mr. Blank,
Since to you all my name matters not nor the tears I cry,
Apparently an odor insidious I exude therefore I must conclude by my tumultuous stank ,
Forgive us, those of the blank kind, as we shuffle along,
Our self-imposed martyrdom seeming only by this the attention we might receive,
Your kith and kin's secondary stare, giving us that look all are wrong,
Thanks for the pretense of a moment thought we finally in her we could believe,
Empty were our blank hands, to your kind we reached out to,
With your venomous dejection our fodder the callous rejection and dismay,
Our shoes sullied, the laces untied, the wounds uncovered, introduced to agonies anew,
Farcical the hopes fraying the breaking ropes with one empty hand you returned
back to us two blank again the dullest day,
Our blank desires that us you would want more than just in what our wallets contained,
The mistakes turned our once hopeful hearts blank back to the game of waiting for not,
Nothing and none perhaps if ourselves perfect we could clone an Adonis with no blemish or
stain,
Hair so thick, muscles of flexion a perfect complexion easy on the eyes for all you gold
diggers a worthy price bought,
To the blank left turn we thought could escape your promises broken,
Your happiness thought we could obtain by sacrifice and time,
You first before us of the Brotherhood of the Blank only requirement to join is upon
rejection's tears in which your dreams destroyed and stolen,
Us the slime you all have, are, and will be making us feel no vindication possible
or paroles release from this cultural crime,
Either right, straight, up or down did the blank ones leave,
Trod they tried a history they could no longer defy back to the shadow's grave,
Metaphorical and deplorable this Brotherhood none may find any reprieve,
The power of pain and the agony of shame no Mrs. for this Mr. Blank to hold from life's
languid game she desires not him to save.
Between the craziness of politics and art my mind wanders
looking to find peace,
but between the beauty of art and the craziness of this president
I die
But it improves my art
although it thrusts me between dark spaces of desperation
and futile hopes but my feeling is we will unite with Love
maintaining my trust in my nation though it's in a chaotic state
In my heart brotherhood survives
but in some of my fellow human creatures' hearts
there is much blame to go around
they are complicit with unstable minds that hide from truths
To those political poltergeists residing in the house painted white
cloaked in red from the blood of children spilled, their lives wasted
caged in cold concrete floors built only for animals
not for little children to live or die in
A poem comes to my churning mind
but my poem sounds irrelevant
it cannot portray the merciless evil in their hearts
my query to the spineless, blind political hacks is:
Why do you embrace and follow an evil and malevolent person?
is the price of liberty worth the handouts to your wallets or the safe secure job offered while giving up your principles, manipulating your faith, casting the last remnants of your soul's compassion to the four winds in a racist fervor?
You give no afterthought to the damage your negative actions permeate
our country bleeds, human values suffer, society and families falter
imitating unthinking, uncaring, bigoted people blind to the fact
they are destroying the fabric that gives this country its strength
Your type of destructive thinking shakes our nation's foundations
deluding yourselves into thinking your way is the only way
but it is not
your imaginary and mindless cupidity will come to an end
Our nation will wave a goodbye to you all and breathe a sigh of relieve
saying good riddance to bad rubbish; God bless the coming artists
and their foresight, ready to explode everywhere in support of
every American and those in limbo on the border and in cages
waiting to join us
I stood beyond the stars,
past the birth-cries of galaxies,
and turned my gaze to Earth—
and I wept.
Not with the tears of man,
but with the sorrow of God.
For what I beheld was not creation,
but corruption dressed in velvet robes.
Marriage, once a sacred fire,
now wears a plastic crown.
It is no longer covenant,
but contract —
no longer love,
but leverage.
They have turned love into legislation,
vows into transactions,
and fidelity into a fading myth.
Cheating is no longer sin,
but seasoning.
Sex is no longer sacred—
it is currency.
Women, digitized in profiles,
sold in swipes and hashtags.
Men, no longer lovers,
but gamblers
at the altar of lust.
Dating apps spin like slot machines,
and hearts are just coins
waiting to be spent or stolen.
Money, O money—
you were meant to serve,
but now you reign.
The poor are crucified on your altar,
while the rich drink wine from their wounds.
Your illusion controls empires,
your shadow runs parliaments.
Politics is no longer governance—
it is theater.
Wars are waged not for peace,
but for profit.
Every bomb dropped
is a dividend gained.
Lies are now a multinational business.
The truth is unemployed.
And religion, once a ladder to the heavens,
is now a golden leash.
Its temples glow with profit.
Its preachers speak in shares.
They no longer shepherd souls—
they herd wallets.
The government and the church—
one whispers fear,
the other sells salvation.
Both feed from the same trough.
And the people—
Oh, the people—
They dance in digital cages,
laughing as they burn.
Their dreams bought and sold
by screens and slogans.
So I weep.
Not as man weeps—
but as God weeps
through me.
I was not sent to comfort you,
but to awaken you.
To tear the veil with words,
to crack the mask with flame.
For the kingdom is not coming—
it is within.
But first, the lies must die.
Let those with eyes,
see.
Let those with ears,
weep.
Let those with fire,
rise.
17 May 2012
I’m curious…
When the people have the power,
And the powers that be infuriate the people,
And the people act with their power,
And they vote with that power, giving some away,
And the ‘Golden Dawn’ is really a ‘growing wrong’,
But the people can’t do a damned thing except realize they did wrong
By inviting the Dawn into power with their own acts,
And the new powers that be can’t change a damned thing
Because the people are burning the nation in fury,
I’m curious, what is power?
I’m curious…
When the ‘invisible hand’ dictates wealth,
And my business becomes everybody’s business because, well,
Because privatization means ‘all about me’ becomes all yours… for a price
And ‘big business’ is no longer human in scale,
It’s too obese to live forever and yet it needs to always feed on the hard earnings of others,
And so the rich get richer and the poor get poorer,
But the rich need the poor to feed their wallets and create more need to feed the greed,
Because, how would fundraisers work without a cause?
Still, the poor need the apparent kindness of the rich just to get by,
And so I’m curious, what is wealth?
I’m curious…
When society needs a dictionary to know the definition of love,
And the difference between it and lust, or infatuation, or plain obsession,
And when the belief of love can evolve into hate, rape, murder, jealousy, and suicide,
And other so-called ‘evils’… but perhaps they are necessary evils…
For, would love be so precious and valuable if there was no deprivation for us to be freed from?
When we need to lose to realize how much we loved the lost,
And to have faith or to believe in you means ‘first give me a reason to do so’,
And to love you means to love the way s/he feels like loving you,
Not the way you need her/him to love you,
I’m curious, what is love?
I’m curious…
When ‘want’ becomes synonymous with ‘need’,
When we need to lose in order to understand that all we need is all we have,
I’m curious…
Because you’re a poet, that’s why
Behind the thick crimson and gold thread curtains
he stands listening to the din of the audience
searching their seats for popcorn crumbs
while roaming hands brush against the legs
of those sitting closest
The young girls get the winks
and free drinks as the old men
vie for position, straightening their hair
and flashing thick wallets
from stretched out back pockets
He peeks through the slit in the
fancy brocade drapes to find a full house,
everyone is here, the self imposed mayor
wearing a handmade campaign button
shakes hands and seeks signatures
Mrs. Broadmore assigns seats in her row
as the little people gather around, telling her
how beautiful she is while hoping for a glimpse
of the diamond crusted gin filled flask she keeps
tucked away in her left garter
The lights dim as the depressed sulk to their seats in the balcony,
broken hearts fill the back rows closest to the bar,
cheerleaders in pink lipstick and short skirts, the football team
all stoned out of their minds and the debate club collect in the center
while the pretty people, the wealthy pose in the front rows
He gets the signal as the curtain slowly lifts
to the ceiling on well oiled pulleys
There is not a sound as he makes his way
to the microphone at center stage, dead silence
but he reads his poem anyway
It is obvious he is no Leonard Cohen
but he does his best as he recites the verses
he has penned especially for this evening
Upon finishing he stares out as two people
clap their approval and the others whisper and look away
His shoulders drop as he leaves the stage,
head hung low, crumbling the paper he had read from
and tossing it in the trash as he wonders aloud, “Why, why do I do it?”
A janitor sweeping near the exit door hears him
and shaking his head replies, “Because you’re a poet, that’s why”
I reposted this poem because……..I like this one. : )
There were things of mine in the drawers that could be thrown out,
But I kept gravitating to the things that were his.
His Public School 45 autograph book. It was red, white, and blue leatherette with
a zipper.
Inside was his hand, writing the names of favorite teachers,
And the dreams of the future you have when you are 13.
His father, an old world German who never shared himself,
left ink blotches of emotion under his hand.
In another drawer, the fancy leather passport wallet complete with passport and
photo.
He was 16.
I don’t remember him talking about anything else with the same twinkle in his
heart
As he did about the 6 months he spent in Germany.
Here is a poem written to him on his 40th birthday,
by his best friend in the world.
The gift made so much better because it was so unlike this IBM Executive
to write personal poetry full of memories.
There was an untouched underwear drawer.
Belt buckles.
Cards of love and joy that I had given to him over many years.
A collection of Christmas wallets.
A yo-yo. Gift from a child with nothing else to give.
Old prescription glasses. Why do we keep those? Pocket knives, hankies.
A sweater and socks I knitted for him,
Always said they were too good to wear.
I store them still.
Every drawer I opened, every cupboard, every box stored away throughout the
whole house had something of his tucked away within.
A stray bullet or black powder ball. A toothpick holder.
A cork screw. A flint, patches, pictures of his ‘49 Olds, a comb, a watch, pocket
treasures.
~ Maybe if I go clean someplace safe like the fridge.
And there was the bottle of Zeller Schwartz Katz wine
bought for the coming Christmas season of entertaining.
This is foolishness, hanging on.
In spite of saving all this stuff
the hole in me is still there. ...
But I just could not throw him away.