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One problem in traditional finance
     Is that intermediaries are needed to
          Facilitate transactions in the system.  
               These intermediaries charge fees, act
                    As points of control or censorship, and
                         Often allow chargebacks (non-finality)
                              Therefore
                         What we need is a truly peer to peer
                    Electronic cash system which allows
               Payments to be sent from one party
          To another without an intermediary.
     Such a system built for the internet
Exists here and now.  It is Bitcoin.
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery088PeerToPeer.html
Freedom may sleep, but it will awaken
For those who love freedom
Can never stay shaken

Freedom may pine, in chains for a night
Yet will always break through
And stand firm in the right

Freedom may kneel, but only to pray
For strength in its purpose
And hope for today

Freedom may falter, and may need to slow
But with renewed vigor
Will get up and go

Freedom may fall, but it NEVER dies
It’s part of our soul
And will EVER arise

Bitcoin is freedom - to save or to spend
The freedom of money
We will ever defend
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery087FreedomNeverDies.html. Inspired by the end of Ayn Rand's book Anthem.
Sadie Grace Feb 22
One day in 2021
I put on a dress for the last time
A part of me died
The part I've been trying to **** for years
I said goodbye to the "me" I was supposed to be but never was

One day is 2023
I said goodnight for what I thought would be the last time
A part of me died
The part that's been trying to **** me for years
I said goodbye to wishing I was someone I never was

Eventually, I said goodbye to the people who hated me for being me
Now I say hello to being free
Jeremy Betts Feb 20
A free captive
Informed I don't know how to love or live
Only examples have been showbiz
Emotions in cursive
Not easily or easy to forgive
No clear or ulterior motive

Rage and violence consume absolutely
They savagely rip apart and rearrange me but not outwardly
I've been known to be cowardly and self destructively passive

Never experienced supportive
The consequences massive
I've been rewritten as aggressive
Stabbed in the back, I supplied the shiv
Caustic and corrosive
This is no way to live

Good fortune such a rare commodity it falls apart too easily
Troubles squeeze so completely and never leave me
I hope it's not me that ends up being the something that's gotta give

©2024
Watching the frozen water vapor,
Ice crystals, falling from the clouds,
Towards, the cold hard ground,
With a strong wind, blowing, in every direction,
Spinning them in circles, all around.
One of nature’s most beautiful sights,
As they arrive for their landing, so gently,
Never making a sound.
When the sun shines down, on everything,
Covered in white, it brings a hypnotizing, trance,
With it, in the air, everyone always stops,
Their day, taking a few minutes and stares.
A snowfall, slows the pace of life, for everyone,
To experience, enjoy, and see, as it covers, all
Generations, reminding us,
The most beautiful, wonderful feelings, in this life,
Come naturally, simple and free.


The original: Tom Maxwell © 02/17/2024 A.D.
Fiat money, printed freely and wildly
     Contributes directly to big government
          Because they don’t need the will of the
               People (paying taxes) for large programs.
                    Instead the government can just use new
                         Money created by the big central banks
                              Therefore
                          When money is not created easily but
                    Instead is only created by honest work
               And energy expenditure, this naturally
          Limits the resources the government
     Can use for their projects and ideas.
Bitcoin is the money based on work
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery085BigGovernment.html
My Dear Poet Feb 5
I dug a trench
to keep you close
growing the hedges
with rope and hose
I filled a moat
to keep you in
a buoy, no boat
if you tried to swim
I planted flowers
bushes, no tree
lest you could climb
and found you free
I paved a road
there you cut a path
far from the garden
away from my arms
now I’m building a bridge
across a sad sea
if you ever decide
to come back to me.
Ashley S Feb 5
I cut off my hair today.
Destroyed my crown of glory.
Threw off the shackles of beauty.
And I've never felt so free.
Beauty is a burden. And now a weight is lifted.
Ken Pepiton Feb 4
seeping art intuiting in our time.

My time, existing while others
struggle, my life has passed thus far,
with little efforting on my part, low ambition,

what good can I do
beautiful nets, Arpa to Darpa, through my time,

crossing all faith's propagation lines, living long,
on a single strand that ties all things in mindtimespace.

our jointed articulated mind frame with windows,
the old … mindshare bubbles in bubbles paradigm;

William Blake painted his visions but failed
to make plain the lies he believed, because all are
cloaked in the grand cloud of all no one needed to know,

until our eyes ^ 10x'd Galileo's and Newton' s
up and down,
and around and around,
we twisted, till the sun shined through…

did that ever really happen to you,
or did you see it at a drive in, with an easy girl,
every body knew, knew the drill, an easy lady
later made famous,

after a series of booms in economic terms,
good pay working on future warfare,
nobody could afford, until, somebody

ran the numbers, attention value,
glimpse the ox,
that gets it going, all the way to the ride,

But where is the bull that was that ox,
in a previous purpose?
Soon the whole novel forms around the initial point... pastless state in mind
nora Jan 31
I watch her watch herself,
pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach.
She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that,
twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers
and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection.

She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually,
and pulls out a tube of mascara.
Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror,
applying her armor stroke
by stroke
by stroke.

She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror),
so I look away for a moment,
and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black
Like ink spilling from a fountain pen.

I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach
And she can tell I’m still looking at her,
so she murmurs something like acknowledgement
and brushes past me.
Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead,
red and pruny
from the hot water seeping down the drain.
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