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Past Mar 24
This is tyranny,
this is malicious,
this is undeniably done out of contempt.
The ire of this man cannot be expressed.
This is gluttony,
this is sinful,
take your coins and feed on the poor.
Sleep at night.
In the peaceful hours of dawn,
don’t blink and eye,
for I have ****** of my mind.
xandra Nov 2020
my painting teacher once told the class
"you'll never miss it if you don't know about it"
he said some paints weren't good for us
& even though they looked better, with richer, more brilliant colors,
they weren't safe for us.
too much exposure to them could poison us;
for they included a toxic component.
we never used these paints,
and so we never missed them.
i wish i could say the same about you.
~a poem about cadmium colors
Andrew Rueter Sep 2020
There's a giant disparity
No economic parity
Or intellectual clarity
When they're scaring me
So I'll collapse invariably
Under coins they're barreling

They nickel and dime me
So I'm pinching for pennies
No peace I'm finding
Working at Wendy's
For the money lending
Capitalism bending
Sharks that are trending

We coin those with stacks of cash
As successes
Even if their heart's black as ash
It impresses

Money doesn't grow on trees
But it seems to float in the breeze
The direction these people please
Or happen to sneeze

I scrape
And claw
But those apes
Are frauds
Playing God
No sin absolved
Without their call

Because I don't put up with their torture
I haven't made a dime this quarter
Because of dollar hoarders
Ruling through law and order
Creating tribalistic borders

Nobody's paying my bailout
I'm too small to fail now
My life's become stale, how?
The **** of a male cow
I tear apart my only couch
Looking for a coin pouch
To get me out
Of this drought

I cut my fingers
And bruise my knuckles
My fatigue lingers
Until I buckle
My stock tumbles
As I scream uncle

We allocate all our resources to a few
While the rest of society turns into a zoo
Where people die to pay their dues
And are given a pocket of coins to use
Which ignites their fuse
But their obfuscated views
Are swayed by the news
Teaching trivial truths

Change starts jingling in my pocket
When I get on a revolutionary rocket
So they buy a gun and **** it
To preemptively block it
They use marketing to stop it
Like it's just another stock tip

They have the guns
They have the money
I have to run
If they start hunting
Because those that say something
Are the edges they're blunting
With coins they're dumping
To protect one thing:
The profit margin
Like social Darwins
They say the hard win
With unholy marred sin
By collecting the coins of their foes
To help economic hostility grow
Until coins are all we know
InkHarted May 2020
I ran towards the door
not so they could let me inside
I pushed through the crowd
not so i could buy
I thew a coin to the wishing-well
not because it was a transaction
I said nice things to my reflection
not for him to  reply
I ran towards the door
not so they could let me inside
I wanted to feel the option
to be kissed by lips
not the curb of the pavement
I hoped I knelt I prayed
I never asked for a reality
just the right to dream
for a reason to live isn't needed
when i can make a million reasons not to die
William Marr Jan 2020
I saw you in Roman Holiday years ago
but you are much thinner now
today is Monday
both you and your master have a day off
the sea horses make no waves
nor the Triton and the chariot

Wishing for a happy return
I stand with my back toward you
as done in the movie
and quickly toss
three five-hundred-lira coins

Hoping they won’t devalue too badly
before they hit bottom
When I visited Rome in 1992, Italy was in the middle of great depression
monique ezeh Jan 2020
I walk through the park every day.
Sometimes I squeeze through the crowd and toss a coin into the fountain, longing vibrating through every molecule of my body.
I’ve done it maybe twenty times now. I wish for the same thing each time.
(I can’t say what it is, though— then it won’t come true. And I really need it to.)

Amid a cluster of intermingling people, I stand almost-alone;
Me and my coin and my one wish.

I wonder, sometimes, how much it matters.
If I’m just deluding myself and tossing  
pennies nickels dimes quarters
Into the water, emptying my wallet splash after splash in naive pursuit of something I know I will never have.

Small children join me in tossing nuggets of wishful thinking, their parents laughing at the naivete of it all.
I imagine a world where I don’t rely on a coin to shift my luck.

I wonder if I know somewhere beneath this self-deception that it doesn’t matter.
That no matter how many pennies I toss,
No matter how many stars I wish on,
No matter how many dandelions I blow into the wind, eyes squeezed tight with desperate desire,
Sometimes wishes just don’t come true.

But I know I’ll toss another coin in tomorrow. I don’t have to wonder about that.
Colm Jan 2020
I pray my pen
Flows not with think
But with spirit embodied
As there is more to impress
In the ink of Christ
Than there ever was or will be
In this expression of me
My life is mere reflection in a silver coin. Here one hour. Gone the next. See ya round.
Rao Rang Nov 2018
There was always two sides of a story
But sometimes no connection could be made out of them
Because both were lies
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