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Tony Tweedy Mar 12
Do you see your purpose as accumulation of wealth?
Do you make such things your social standings health?
Is it what drives you and gives you all your worth?
Is it what you were told gave purpose so shortly after birth?
Do you live each moment trying to add another buck?
Were you taught when very young you cant rely on luck?
Do you seek more property to add comfort to your plight?
Do you check the market for profits won throughout the night?
Do you count and tally all the notes that you can hold?
Do you calculate all you've traded, paid for, bought or sold?
Do you know the faces on every type of bill?
Is the pile getting ever higher and climbing higher still?
Do you make money from the lowly when they are forced to fight?
Do you really call this purpose and see it as your right?
Is your life for paper with a slogan proclaiming "In God We Trust"
I'm not alone in praying, one day God will send you bust.
Money makes the world go round.... and square.... or triangle.... if you pile it high enough you can make any shape you want.
Amanda Feb 16
Here is where it finally comes unglued
Darkness of our souls take control
Hear the words you're throwing my way
I have none of my own to console

Today could be our final meeting
Very last blow we each land
Just don't know how to try any longer
Do not expect you to understand

Confusion splayed across your face
Am I supposed to explain?
What do I say to make you comprehend?
Or are my efforts in vain?

I exhaust myself running laps
Trails encircling your decided disease
In front of you is a detailed map
You choose to stay down on your knees

Your heart has chilled to the core
Steps stolen, immoral, and misdirected
Lights inside eyes don't shine anymore
I have nothing but memories collected
I miss the sparkle you used to get in your eye when passionate about something
William Maxwell Dec 2018
Am.
I looked into her eyes
Saw through her insecure lies
Into her bare soul
Her immoral soul

Well if you could love me
I would love you the same
And if you want me
Why are we playing this game?
you are a lab rat,
dancing in their labs,
through you they *** to conclusions.

You turn them from ***** to holy,
Every morning they turn saint.

It's sad how you have turned a naked god,
Cleaning possessed men.


Immoral lab experiments
Men are tresh.
Maniac girl Nov 2018
I smelled the fragrance of Rose
From her toes
Fresh and glimpse of moss
Exciting and seducing me
Sure thing that I was acquainted
Of the gospel that pursuing her
Is only going to instigate chaos
The temptation was driving me crazy
Immoral tale of my lust and passion
She is a charming but deranged Lady
Loving and watching her is my neurotic addition

When I saw her first
She had dressed all black
Just like a hot cocoa cake
Her fair and creamy face
Is like vanilla frosting,
her cherry Pearl necklace decking
On her neck was the cake glacé
Her vanilla milky creamy face looked so appetizing
Diamond of her earrings was sparkling
Her eyes were shining like lightning
And body shivering, but she was glimmering
After that day,
I started stalking her
Kissing and loving her
I Rock her every night
I'm sure that she enjoyed it
But she doesn't know but she felt it
And I lead it, I melted her
Like a joyous River
It's wrong but I love doing it
No offense to anyone. Only for entertainment purpose.
Randy Johnson Oct 2018
How can you enjoy playing that PlayStation 4?
You stole it from Best Buy, it's not yours.
That PS4 doesn't rightfully belong to you.
Stealing it was lousy and a criminal thing to do.
You sit there and play it and you feel no shame.
How can you get pleasure from playing that game?
I hate to be a snitch, but I'm going to turn you in.
If you go to jail, maybe you won't steal again.
EVEN THOUGH THIS POEM IS FICTIONAL, IT IS IMMORAL TO STEAL.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2018
Dead soldiers, lined up in a row,
Short history, how many more to go?
Dead sailors, some of them in an alley
Not sailing anywhere anymore are they?
Dead airmen, and also dead marines.
What if we’d been where they’ve been?
Men and women, fathers and mothers
We are burying our sisters and brothers.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Dead soldiers, not just bottles of beer;
More come back home dead every year.
Used people, we let them get thrown away
By listening to what rich crooks had to say
Their empty promises were all about glory
But remember, most of that word spells gory.
Expendables, in the Big Game of profit.
The proceeds, none of them ever got it.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!

Salute and makes parades, of course
And pin the cheap medals on a corpse,
A kid under orders to invade and ****
Hoping leaders wake, but they never will.
The politicians get rich in office when
They sing  patriotic war songs again.
Someday we all can stop all the killing
If love, providence and all gods are willing.

Hut, two, three, four,
What the hell are we fighting for?
Five, six, seven, eight!
I’ll go to heaven if it’s not too late!
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