I was born with dollar signs on my back
As if that is all I would ever be worth
As if that was all I would ever be good for
The amount splayed under my fingernails
From digging into my skin
A gold mine that was never mine
A land mine I'd one day die in.
I was a wealth of potential
And then expectations
And then disappointment
And then simply vibrations
Of thoughts and feelings
Constant worries
A jackpot siren of insecurity
A lottery I was born to win
Where winning meant spending
The last of my birth
On a life too cheap
To mean anything
And a lifetime of work
To make it cost more

Nylee 11h

what are we waiting for?
Luck to make it all alright
Happiness to make everything all good
Love to make everything complete
Success to make work go worth
Money to have everything you want
Hope which will not diminish

or a normal Life
to live with and without everything mentioned above .

On a long and simple gallows tree
a god and dollar bill I see --
and I've never felt so happy;
no, never felt so happy.
I walk around and brush the bush
and think about all the ants I mush,
just want to make a cent or two;
what else am I supposed
                to want to do?

And on the laundered sky I spot
a furious eye over a shackled lot
-- but I'm told it's just the sun
                               that blinds;
   destroying all the ants it finds.

I don't think I understand,
my god, my wallet is full
but my life ain't worth living.
God, you're like a bird in my hand:
something beautiful, always squirming.
     And I wish I could let go.

This is a robbery
  of what makes you,
makes me.
This is my honey;
  I fit inside of you;
  This is melting.

Our malls are fiends
  and our soccer fields
are growing stronger;
  our sports are growing
trophies our children
  could never be.

This is daddy's blood;
  our hero, our stud.
Working hard to
  help the factory.
This is poverty.
This is you and me --
               a robbery
we love to applaud.

This is blood, blood,
This is you and
         this is me.

Introvenus feeding tubes for  college kids
Working hard at working hardly
Hardy masses footing parties
Party lines drawn by children
With no idea how or why
We've become the way we are

How'd we get here anyway, whos to say
Its worse, or is it?
(spoiler: it ain't)
Spoiled rich kids writing rules and wrecking homes and holding office
I feel so lost around the passion

Alianted from the ideas
Crafted out of years of bliss
wrapped up in a minute of
Subdermial real world pins

You've seen the half, but not the rest
So let me clue you in

This life isn't a virtue test
Give your horse a decent rest
And get the education
Your parents gifted you

Society is pathetic, and you could transed if you tried
The blind lead the blind when you gouge out your eyes


We were lovers before we were friends.
You wanted to build a nest in my tree
before bothering to climb it
or learning me
to see whether or not my branches
could hold your home
filled with things upon things.
You wanted big things
nice things
shiny and expensive things.
You didn't want to decorate me,
you wanted to use me like a coat rack
to hold your winter coat
over summer.
You never asked if I liked things.
You assumed
that there are things I like
and things that I don't like
but it isn't things that I want -
it's people
and feelings
and moments.
It's everything that can't be bought
that brings me joy.
But you,
you were so sure
that if you filled my mouth with
it would mute the sound of my discontent.
But it only made me creak louder.
And when you tried to keep my hands busy
with the job of holding the things
you bought for me,
you thought
it would stop me from
pushing you away
when you whispered at night
that you loved me,
and now it was my turn to say thank you
by doing things
written in fine print
at the bottom of your receipts.
But you can't pay me to stand tall,
to hold your things high off the ground
when the flood waters rise.
You can't place your coins in a slot
to make a tree bend to your wind
or let you tether off your boat
to weather a storm beneath her limbs.
You slipped me so many tips,
but I don't have a price.
We were lovers before we were friends,
and we were strangers long
before we said goodbye.

unnamed 5d

The decline in standers.

We praise those who pander.

The bread and butter of art.

That couldn't save a creative heart.

Just a fan watching their favorite artist sell poison in a can.

The ultimate war.

It's money verses feelings.

It's money verses the truth that lies in our heart.

It's money verses art.

Wallet not exist
Night until late. I wake up.
Everything: regret.

This was a haiku that my friend and I created. It has been translated directly from the Japanese, its original language.

My mind floats in the galaxy
My body see kisses, money, pride
One soul wants to be better than another
Throwing colors that turns to ashes

I can't run
So I stand still
And watch everything burn
They love fire
They dance

I found my sanctuary
In my mind
And follow where it wanders
To the infinite supernova
I float

Ocean fires Apr 20

Why do we ignore the poor
As they wash up on our shores
Children drown in the deep
While we sit comfy in our seats

The fireflies rain down
Tearing their homes to the ground

Still youre unable to comprehend
the love lost in the souls of men

Green God of America
Manufactured consent
Why should you care
If you can pay your rent

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