saranade Apr 8

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.

So many applications
spaghetti Nov 2016

It is illegal, and you may get arrested, but with the correct materials and tools, YOU can manufacture your own money in the comfort of your own home.

You thought making money as in earning a lot of money via a job? Ha ha, that's a waste of time.

The Willow Dec 2016

I was using my pain as currency
giving out loans fervently, begging
"Promise you won't leave me alone,"
They always said, "Certainly,"

It's a curse to be eternally at home
in the purses of beggars who give away your loans
as fast as they get it.
I didn't get it.

I couldn't bear to be the broken one
the mourning song
but how could I trust someone
unless I showed them my open wounds

but how could I heal if another was bleeding too
and neither of us would consider bandaging
how could we connect unless we were both sure we were in pain of being alive?

JGuberman Aug 2016

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.

Epi Arias Jun 2016

In you, I wait, while the currency of light flashes. You are both sides of every coin.

Em May 2016

I spend my love on you
like pennies tossed into empty fountains of youth -
like loose change loyally saved,
built up in a piggy bank,
a compilation of broken promises you never made
becoming blood clots in my lungs.
I would say they're in my heart
but I can't breathe when I see her.
Tax season is over and my savings continue
to drain -
they sit at your doorstep
waiting to be cashed in
for what I thought was an investment
but has become a liquidation of my entire being.
Empty wallets haven't caught wind of my addiction,
but the pennies on the ground talk.
Found heads down, I give them a voice,
and they, too, drown with the rest.

I think it's time I stop tossing change and you start seizing the day.
*I'm not sure of this title - grateful for any suggestions.
Sethnicity Sep 2015

Looks like smiles and hugs
and current seas for eternity,
I will cover the spread
and her head
The price of her education hard knocks
and maturation
When fully flowered before spring
and ticking timebomb within
Eyes on boys wandering from books
Broken everything and lasers for looks
Her currency never grows thin
Paid in full again and again
If only the world knew what
Made it spin
Looks like smiles and hugs
Refill my wallet organ.

for my Daughter in Step.

Pick me up. Slide me into pocket.
I'm the means by which you live.
I am the creed of thieves,
the loss of all virtue.
Builder and destroyer
of all worlds,
and everything you know of.
The skeleton key
to open any closed door
you may encounter.
No barriers.
No holds barred.
What will you give up for me?
Your time? Your breath?
Your dignity? Your health?
Your sanity? Your family?
Your friends? Your god?

As a matter of fact,
I'll just take you.

Dr zik Apr 2015

Heart cannot be purchased
As currency is matter of no use
Only one can succeed
Who deals in barter system!

Dr Zik's poems
Braden Kreft Dec 2014

Favorites, Reposts, Comments:
Currency of the cacophonous conumdrum carried onward in carnivals of catatonic cherubims trading virtual cadence for confidence and compliments.

To be read in your meanest rapper tone, ha
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