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Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
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from crumbling off-brand tennis shoes,
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for twelve families.
remember, this is America
sign up now
so that even if you’re shot tomorrow,
at least you were productive today.
Alaina Moore May 2020
Don't feel like a cog.


Don't feel like a bird either.
Max Neumann May 2020
in your first life, you are a human, and express yourself
in your second life, you are a dog, only able to bark
in your third life, you are a tree, existing in silence
the nirvana will be your salvation: god-approved nothingness

humans can not imagine such a state, we only imagine the netherworld:
heaven and hell are places of gates, fire, lights, gardens and trees
so, does the afterlife take place on earth? what is the case?
do the dead, invisibly, populate the earth like in "the sixth sense"?

a famous playwright once stated that the dead dwell behind curtains
but they don't do so, in reality, they flow through our souls
like rivers through a channel, our souls are tools for ancestors
we do not feel them but they sense us strongly, they scent us

souls governed all human acts that were ever commited
souls govern all human acts that are being commited right now
souls govern all human acts that will be commited
a soul's texture is invisible, yet it weighs precisely 21 grams

everything i wrote about the afterlife and the soul may be wrong
i am as human as you, reflecting and presuming; my hands are tied
i would like to be a tv-preacher but i am not addicted to the dollar
god-channels are flodded by donation banners; humans buy certainty

this certainty, though, only lasts until our final breath: then we will know
then we will really know but we can't tell anyone; and that's our torture
i appreciate life but there are things we will never figure out while living
ludicrous uncertainty is drifting through my mind: the end of the dream
Today is a good day.
Marissa May 2020
No matter the weather I depend on you forever, always with you making bank together.
I wish not to see you go, but I'm here to let you know that, no business too strong, no sale too low, I’ll talk the talk and win boardwalk.
You may raise the steaks, eat 'em with a shake, but I'll be the one to monopolize park place.

Every day, we continue to strive, simply because we are alive with a passion of conquest that will put any limit to the test.
Don’t tell us your rules, you fool, we pull the strings, so watch what you say, or everything you know of will go missing.
Beware, our empire expands at a rate, which will never yield any capitalist mistakes, because at our core, we are omnipotent nationalists.
We have climbed the steps, to the very top of the throne, and mark my words — the world will be ours to own.
Sometimes, it is fun to write poetry just for fun and dismiss any elements of seriousness. It unlocks a new realm of creativity. So, go write, let it be a little humorous, get a laugh out of it, and smile at the masterpiece you have created.
Julie Grenness May 2020
When  did  I learn somewhere,
That Capitalism does not care,
Should have realized when  I was young,
Economies flourish best with guns,
Over here in Oz, you see,
Iron ore and uranium, basically,
These fund our economy,
Is the human race naive?
Depends on what you believe,
Uncle Sam will want you and you,
Take care, young chicks and dudes,
Armed conflict soon everywhere,
When the Covid antidote is here,
Capitalism does not even care....
Feedback welcome.
jules Apr 2020
scrolling through
a colonized culture
that tells us to
stay busy
be productive
work hard
for what a shame
it would be to rest

a capatalist cornucopia
of brainwashing ads
making us believe
we are not good enough
simply as we are
that we should work hard to become
something we are not

the messages they spoon-feed us
travelling straight to the subconscious
where our deepest insecurities reside
secretly piling up in their favour
as they feed more information
ever so subtly and carefully
Sleep Apr 2020
The flu has pushed the shoppers
away from this litter of bananas
coaxing my tongue for better health.
Strange things play in the air
between the cashier and the customer
wringing alcohol on her hands.
From Kentucky to New York,
we've come to dress like surgeons
and fear the bad blood of a handshake
or dollar bill. I grab my things as night grows
outside the automatic doors. Under the rinsers
& harsh light of the produce aisle,
a truth dies and a myth takes its name.
Paper Heart Poet Apr 2020
Bill strangles their neck  
Barcodes are their language
Dollar signs in their pupils
Chasing the digital and physical
Money like it’s their long lost love
Bard Apr 2020
Sell out a million for a billion
Bloodflow, cashflow all im feelin
Keep pumpin till oblivion
Aint no ceilin and corpses pile on

Unapologetic ******* cash rules everything now
Pathetic stay low and when I pass you better bow
Autokrat choose when the deathblow hits earth now
Fully automatic sell to to the Congo, cash for ammo

God is cash and im feelin like money
Only one I'll let in to heaven is me
Peasant blood best remember fealty
Best worship the ground beneath me

I Keep pushin on the system till it cracks
While its delegates write me a paycheck
They lick my boots while I crush your neck
They watch as you suffocate fear the plutomaniac
"One nation under god"- American Pledge of allegiance
Sh Mar 2020
Ego doesn't start a war.

Greed does.

Blood for golden honey, dripping down the lips of rich men finding immortality in money.

Ego may cause a war.
Ego is the lie that the richer-by-the-second men craft so brilliantly
and sell to the masses.

We can understand the blooming bruises of ego, a human emotion to unite us into unspeakable horror.

When we take whatever reason they give us, the blindfold will only come off as the bullet shoots through.

Too late.
Far too late.

A warning for you, my poor worker bees:

Watch for the flow of honey.
Watch for the sting of the queen.
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