Rockefeller Poems

Confess, Corn Flakes!

You know her
You feel she mingles in your reason in rhythm
Not with your possible pain of angina in arrhythmia 
She is a calm serenity prayer
that knows your tear and that needs to run down on your smile lines
she is a kitchen cookie baking sheet
tracing paper cyan heed
never a plotter, never a san Juan never a San Francisco

But she is there too, with things on the verge of unsayable , she is there, too!
not to announce i am possible
but to possibly remind
even an ounce meant!

Rockefeller center and Rockford too
hit hard rock bottom with your pain
with all her pensive boon!

the 'MOTHER'S DAY' Poetry Contest entry

The ugly belly of robber barons

To make money do what you may
And let no rules come in your way,
Capitalism blares
As laissez-faire declares
Wild ways to thievery,
Packaged nigh cleverly
For robber barons of today,
Who should look in mirror
To reflect on error
And ponder, made they are of clay.
____________________  
Happenings |19.11.2024|money, business, mirror

Poet’s note: US, who has charged an Adani company of financial misdeeds, needs to look into its own history of capitalism. The first two lines of this ditty talk of what laissez-faire was and still largely is. A list compiled in 1934 named 26 robber barons (a German term for knights who charged illegal tolls from travellers along with other forms of thuggery). The list includes Andrew Carnegie, JP Morgan, and John D Rockefeller-- who later turned philanthropists and promoters of art to earn rubber stamp of public approval. The country reminds us of a cat on a pilgrimage:

Upon killing hundreds of mice,
A cat is out to wash her vice,
On holy pilgrimage
To pop up her image,
Poor mice paying her laundry price.

Four Little Spooks

four little Hallows Eve spooks sitting on a fence
Named Ford, Carter, Rockefeller and Pence.
Camouflaged as jacks, the little one says.
She is persnickety and impolite, we call her Inez.

This is my song, says the singer; Stay out of it, please.
It is ghostly and spooky, this floats to them on a breeze.
The jacks are quiet when a werewolf howls their way.
It turns their lights to black, scary end to their ghostly day.

1910 To 1919

I am the Boy Scouts who become 
Official. 
   I am Charlie Chaplin film that 
Makes you giggle. 

   I am the triangle shirtwaist  
Factory fire. 
   I am Margaret Sanger the birth 
Control supplier. 

   I am the Titanic sinks in 
The ocean. 
   I am the Spanish flu 
In motion. 

  I am the Red Baron takes 
To the sky. 
   I am Rockefeller that 
Billionaire guy. 

   I am the Coast Guard's first 
Day on the job. 
   I am the first crossword  
Puzzle to solve. 

   I am Tommy submachine 
Gun in supply. 
   I am Mata Hari the exotic 
Dancing spy. 

   I am the first Indy 
500 race. 
   I am the Oreo cookie, 
Can't wait to taste. 

   I am Mexico and Arizona 
Become states. 
   I am World War One starts 
To take shape. 

   I am the National Hockey league 
When it was formed. 
   I am Daylight savings time when 
It was born. 

   I am the international telephone 
Line. 
   I am prohibition no alcohol  
Or wine. 

      Turbo1904

Fort Myers Florida

I left out riding my bike down 
first street over looking the 
wildly calm river artist's lined 
bicentennial entrance way where 
Thomas Edison Rockefeller
 
and Ford feasted on clams 
my mind wandered about 
the timing of the dem lights to 
brighten the garden lofts above 
the streets soft jazz from 

Billie holiday rang out down 
old Hendry street my heart strings 
mingled with the Sunday drivers 
passing by after mass fondly 
trying to pick me up leaving 

the shops it was noon it was 
damp the sun peeked in behind 
the gulf today a few children 
skipped by carrying balloons 
while the fishermen tossed nets 

near the shore sand collected 
beneath my toes as two boats 
docked this was home my life
an yet the Caribbean whispered
to me waves slammed against 

the stone walls I felt a few sprinkles 
I quickly dashed into the book store 
on the corner while the aroma of fresh 
French bread gather all of my senses 
luring me to a sit down with brunch 

tiny raisin bagels diced mangos 
inside a vintage wine glass 
one thousand sparrows flew
backwards within the breeze      
as I rest on the steps of St Francis

The Trilateral Commission

The Trilateral Commission,
is an organization,
founded in 1973 by David Rockefeller,
to bring businessmen and political leaders together,
from the United States, Europe, Japan and where ever,
in order to bring economic and political cooperation,
among their member's varied nations.

That is what they want us to believe,
but the truth is that they are launching a diabolical scheme,
to strip away all national boundaries,
and bring about an international community,
eventually establishing a one world government,
with the Rockefellers calling the shots on the world's population.

Big Apple

Yellow cabs and pavements they call sidewalks,
Grand Central Station and the Metro too,
Central Park as big as a small city,
The Empire State’s great panoramic view.
A walk through Greenwich Village or through Chelsea,
The Hudson flowing deep beneath our feet,
Madison Square Garden for the boxing,
Musical named 42nd Street.
Take a ferry over to the statue,
That’s situated on Liberty Isle,
Stand at the base of the one World Trade Center,
The tallest u.s. building for a while.
Brooklyn Bridge and Rockefeller Centre,
A symbol of amazing self-made wealth,
Times Square to welcome in a brand new year,
A Macy’s trip to help your mental health!
The yankees stadium lies in the outskirts,
Back to the centre for a Broadway show,
Bloomingdales the height of any fashion,
Museums and Parks everywhere you go.
So get a cycle or hire yellow taxis,
To see most though I’d recommend you walk,
To see sights of a 24 hour city,
The magic and the beauty of New York!

Hohoho

Ten thousands sparkling lights
Into one tree
Little childrens dream coming true
Rockefeller Center at her best
24 meters way up high
Her needles showing glossy
Straight from the forest
At the center of New York to see
By rich and by poor
On the main square
There will be Christmas for everyone
As it should be

Lady Familiar

Now...
Metaphors dance in my mind
and there's a word I'm hoping 
to find, a line familiar as
"I want you to be mine."
Relying on the fact that
poetry hasn't failed me yet
I hope you approve the way
God chose Moses's mouthpiece 
and includes all thou's, 
ye's, I's and me's
I want you to possess me
the way a forty-niner
would  gold.
Blaze a trail through
Oregon greenery and 
I'll follow you like
 Rockefeller wealth
and hereditary genomes 
wearing Nike shoes
till two becomes unified 
I promise to pursue you.

Then...
I pictured sunflowers and 
spilled rutabagas on grandma's 
corner peeled linoleum. 
She wore a halo and 
shooed away storms
Her hello sounded like hallelujah
and hummed Blessed Assurance
as her dentures soaked
in baking soda.

Eventually...
You're reminding me of 
the women of my youth
The qualities of a praying woman 
has been man's best protection 
The metaphor, word, and
 line familiar found:
 "He hasn't failed me yet,"
I can hear her saying.
I picture you praying.

Truthbomb

Natural resources plundered worldwide
Everyone's a suspect
Watching us and all we do

Working our fingers to the bone until the day we die
One world government the ultimate plan
Rights to free speech being violated
Lets spare a thought for the third world nations
Disease and death on the daily

Oswald the patsy 
Rockefeller Rothschild Rich Rich Rich
Do celebrities really need 20 million dollars per movie
Educate yourself, read a book, open your mind
Revolution

New York City - My Home Town

People from all over come to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
Men, women, children alike – all say it’s a most beautiful sight.
Every year they search for the tallest Christmas tree
And decorate it so carefully.
There is nothing left to chance – there must be bulbs on every branch.
This tree is a symbol of our right to be free Put up each year for the world to see.
It has become symbolic to us like the Thanksgiving Day parade
New years on Times Square which are the things 
That AMERICA shares.
Every dream that you perceive – in NEW YORK CITY can be achieved.
There are centers of every kind- where dreams become alive
The diamond center, the garment center, the art center too
And that’s just to name a few.
The United Nations was built on these grounds
Where every language can be found.
NEW YORK CITY where I was born and raised
I give you thanks and I give you praise.                              © LRams

Red Camouflage

it’s said a soldier must fight till war’s end,
retreat isn’t permitted, it’s like saying
“yes” without “sir” in Klan land,
it’s simply unheard of
there’s an inner fight ensuing
leaving its host ruined
Visit the darker corners of
a war torn mind & you’ll find
a battered hero  cowering 
disguised as bold
underneath that  bravado 
hides  brokenness.
bullet fragments extracted
had deposited night sweats,
anxiety, the bloody images of 
a battle’s ACU top soaked 
with AB negative,
it only takes one day out
of 365 to turn a year  disastrous
As life continues to accumulate 
Pointless and memorable moments
I can see LT Burk’s blood 
soak into his camouflaged top
An unforgettable red
Redder than the stripes on an American flag
Redder than Snow White’s apple
Or a Norman Rockefeller painted tricycle
Red Camouflage hides unspeakable pain
I wonder what shade of red the nation sees 
when camouflage bleeds?

Manhattan Dream

While gazing down from the Rockefeller Tower
My girlfriend and I soon began to glower
While surveying Central Park we then thought
How much could we get for it if we bought
Trying to figure that out took over an hour

Without You

that first breath after hearing Beethoven
inhaling life from him
John’s many gifts to me

feeling his tears at La Boheme
hearing him laugh at Carmen
sharing the shock of a trembling “Equus”* audience

Broadway, Times Square, Rockefeller Center
hours of sharing our innermost secrets
strolling through Central Park

John, you opened my eyes, my world
but failed to teach me one thing...
how to live “Without You”* 



*"Equus" is a play by Peter Shaffer 
*"Without You" by Nilsson was our song

Home, James

Home, James

By Elton Camp

The usual hallmark of the one percent
Is that by chauffeured limo they went

If Astor, Rockefeller or Vanderbilt
You knew they were loaded to the hilt

When they were ready to leave the scene
They loaded into a waiting limousine

“Home, James,” is what they would say
It must be such fun to get to do that way

Limos now are nicer with different name
But those who ride in the back are the same

They have more money than they can spend
And only to other millionaires are they friend

I just wonder how much income tax they pay
Or if they get out of most of it by some way

President Obama seems to think they do
And, as far as I can know, it might be true

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