I don't work for a tangible currency
I slave for digital binary
01101000 01100101 01101100 01110000
While I scribble poetry
Emptying my personal winery

Your currency, should currently
Be known for it's barbarity
Your hostility, and severity
Will flip minority to majority
The reality and authority
That we want to see desperately
Is a community that concurrently
Finds solidarity and integrity
In the simplicity of sincerity
Because, you know what?
It's not easy, it's simple

Earth runs by mural
Grows on soil alluvial
Is more communal
And less commercial.
But all work illegal,
Love for such is official
All equal tasks disloyal.
But at Money’s arrival
They treat us special;
Bliss and bless us total
We are never trivial
Comes position initial.
Money is more disloyal
Will leave you at trial.
If one is in life’s trial
Success of Money final.
If you want to be ideal;
No value only Money vital.
Agree or not Money is real
As with it we are acquittal.
Don’t be completely asocial
No practice of immoral,
It leads to God’s dismissal;
As we are never trivial
Comes position initial.

A pink small sparrow
Comes at my halo
And grants me furlough
To travel through hollow;
I do after her lonely flow
But at my trail many glow
With expectation inflow
Of Money red or yellow.
It made me strong fellow,
From yesterday to tomorrow,
Who travels lonely and slow
By using a wheelbarrow.
No friend or enemy allow
Me to enter in his furrow.
So ye decide judiciously now
And choose relatives or sparrow.

A beautiful and sweet girdle
Collecting it is quite doddle
Counting is like a hot fettle
Touching it is a bit brittle.
Let be the Geeta or the Bible,
Let be grapes or pineapple,
Importance of money able
Is not be explainable.
Money can make a castle
Or buy handful cattle
Or can earn a good title
Or can bound to peddle.
All is easily possible
By the mint boodle.
Carry them in a duffle
Or in a golden vessel,
It is going to be a rouble.
So friends value a boodle
And crave for it to chuckle
The taunts of world little.

My freedom of expression,
Or, freedom to exist...
I've had to suppress, any implication,
That I was free, IT was free,
Or that I could rest.
My obligations became innovations,
My "freedom" was a serious test.

Shut my mouth.
Silence my thought.
Burn holes in my own sky...
To survive,
Just to... Get by.

There's no blood on the hand
of the devil begging for a gun...
But, the blood of my son,
My thoughts, my thighs,
My sun, my sky...
I'm paralyzed.
I idealized and fantasised
...a metaphor...
Something in-between dead and alive.

But this is literal.

Cry freedom for a body that fails.
An existing breath that bent steel.
Locked in the prison with 10 wardens.
Slave to a super power.
And I'm furious you sent me a bill.
I ate your currency.
I'm... Fed... Up.

Your devil is free to stare,
poke fun and share
...the misery...
...my suffering...
I'm paralyzed.

This is literal.

What of empty words
like love without feelings
a currency without a bank
to back it up,
words expressed but not felt
spent in amounts
exceeding their value.

What of love
felt but not expressed
deep like a vault
where the most precious possessions are kept,
or deep like a mine
where the yawning veins
provide only hints of their great worth
a little bit at a time.

We are growing an economy
and between us we can pass
Assignats or Continentals
to our hearts desire,
and yet when our hearts yearn for more
it will only be the shining coin of the realm
the pearl of desire
that is assayed between us
and only then will our economy stand or
fall by what is backing
our promise to pay the bearer on demand
and redeem ourselves in return.