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.
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
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
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
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.