Valuables Poems - Poems about Valuables

Capital Growing valuables, liquid and solid infrastructural, are also sacred AnthroElder artifacts for Future cooperative co-investment, health preferring multicultural control over thoughtlessly biased ego left hemisphere privileged AnthroSupremacist competitions with other lesser beings competitively anxious about sufficiency of Earth's healthy systemic limits on perpetual economic anti-ecologically dissonant Over-development of remaining positively deviant multiculturally resilient health care systems giving and polyculturally receiving back to pre-historic timeless time regenerating win/win cooperative EarthMatriarchal domestically nonhistoric everyday sensory-neural experiences of resilient...

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I'm the one Still wearing The graduation cap After we thrown them Off Like I just wanted to Keep it on my head For the whole day Years have passed, my friends How are you all doing Seems like everything has changed And Yet nothing has Still the immature kids We were Teasing about the most Useless and meaningless Still laughing 10 minutes after At least we're still Satisfied with the simple pleasures Adulthood hasn't Taken...

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My heart is cold, I’m freezing to death. I’m freezing slowly I wish I could be bless, try to do right but life is a mess. My heart is a treasure chest, you have a chance to unlock it and get valuables, but don’t be a gold digger, for therefore my soul is valuable, my...

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Fragile antiques Old doll houses and old love letters from the spouses 16 year old yearbooks with old fashioned looks Old musty smells and cracked Christmas bells Worn teddy bears on 3 legged chairs Pink fluffy mess an ugly vintage dress Red rusty bike whose brand is Tike Chipped tea cups in boxes from UPS Dusty record player a plastic dragon slayer Faded white onesies and pink-purple ponies Beautiful dream catchers The...

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Working in jobs we loath, buying valuables we do not need. We have no substance to survive on this, our souls we can not feed. A million miles away, across oceans and cracks. Exist people that own everything, everything we lack. The Mark of Cain, we have burnt upon ourselves. Ever plummeting southwards, our conscious delves. He collects them in bottles, our evil ways. Waiting to release them, at the...

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