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My Dear Poet Mar 19
I have a bag full of money
Filled only with paper notes
it’s not really all that heavy
Infact, It’s so light it often floats
So I’m glad I don’t carry
The weight of the rich
on my back
because life would be so scary
weighed down by a sack
I’d rather be up airy
strung along by a balloon
Flying up like a fairy
Scattering money from the moon
Emma Mar 14
Beware!
Beware!
The great Beast of the World
Beware!
Beware!
They’ve come
They’ve come
They’ve come

Beware!
Beware!
The mighty, ferocious roar
Their anger have no limits
Their hunger have no bounds

Beware!
Beware!
They’re lurking everywhere
They lives in those we scorn
And within those ***** throngs

Beware!
Beware!
They’ve come to get us all!
What have we done to deserve this fate?
Such innocence yet we fall

Beware!
Beware!
Gather your gold
Gather your letters
Gather your shoes
Your bread and your butter

Such savagery
Such monsters
Flaming tongues
Knife blade garbles
Seeping into every nook and cranny

What have we done?
But give you a place to sleep?
What have we done?
But give you a way to live?
We are like you
Working in the fields
We only reap a different harvest
Of course not just coal and fuels

What have we done?
But give you recognition?
What have we done?
But put you where you belong?
Your tears are woven into our blankets
We wear your blood in stone
Don’t tell us we stand on the same rock and soil
We live a different birth

What have we done?
But give you food to put on your table?
Of grey water
And rock hard rye
That we found in a rotting corner of our pantry
Out of the goodness of our hearts

Oh why have you come
To lock us in your cages
We don’t belong where you live
Don’t come don’t run
And tear us into shreds
We only did what was right

Don’t come knocking at our front doors
With your jagged claws and yellow teeth
And those swollen eyes and lips
Don’t come and trample
All over our front lawn
And take what is rightfully ours

Heel!
Heel! I say!
What has gotten into your head?
We have worked together so well
You and I
What has become
Of dog
And his Master?
to rich gold is to taste gold
to rich gold is to rich the black market
gold is a taste of gold
gold is a rich of gold
gold is a black market rich of gold
gold is a taste of a rich black market
gold is a rich taste

the black market is a rich taste of the black market
fame is a walk of fame
fame is a walk of gold
fame is a rich gold of fame
a walk of fame is a walk of gold
a walk of fame is a walk of a black market
taste is tasting fame

taste is tasting the riches of fame
the riches of fame is the riches of gold
the riches of fame is the walk of fame
the riches of fame is the riches of a black market
riches is fame of riches
the black market is the riches of fame
the black market is the riches of gold
my writing is called philosophical writing. i only uses middle ages words,words liked gracious,extravaganza,etc… this poem is about gold is the riches of gold. i don’t add capitalization’s on my writing.
jia Feb 18
hungry for power
while the poor starve from hunger
the rich shall cower
Quand le peuple n'aura plus rien à manger, il mangera le riche.

When the people shall have nothing more to eat, they will eat the rich.
All of you.
Where do you get off
making a name for yourself
out of the mockery
in fallen heroes’ hearts?
What’s in a name;
that which we call
"a genius"
by another label
would be found on the front page
of the obituaries.

And now,
what?
Where do you go from
the top,
looking down on those you
trampled on the way
with some false sense of humility?
How we perceive you now
is like that of a crime lord;
envious,
never aspirational.

Might as well
call it a day
and take note of the
fallacy
that is fame and fortune.
Ahmad Attr Feb 12
Such a shame, the food’s gone cold
In your golden dishes
Too much infidelity, it’s getting old
Inside the house of the riches

Such a shame,  your boy James
Brought dirt to your family’s name
High on ****** as the younger sister claims
Such a shame, as she lays down by the poolside
reflects a little on her family of lies
But finds peace at thought of her jewellery and party nights
Such a shame, the Misses dances alone in the ballroom
As her husband smokes another cigarette in bedroom
Of the mistress who enticed him with her French perfume

Such a shame, the food’s gone cold
In your golden dishes
Too much infidelity, it’s getting old
Inside the house of the riches

But do they taste good?
Do they scream?
When you purify their souls
For you chains of silver and gold
The little children stuck in your teeth
The spoons and knives of bones
That your gauged out of their limpid skin
Their tears must have made a strong champagne and gin
But do they taste good?
When you gulp down their dreams
When you wince at their mud faces
Going back to your fractured glass house
Do they quiver? Do they scream?
Theanm Ankh Feb 5
Why is the music industry showered in riches while
Doctors and nurses are left in ditches though
They save lives and music, you--
Well, I suppose music saves lives too but
Oh, not mine.
No, no, no, see I
'm
On a stage but they've all got their eyes shut and
Their heads are swaying side to side but Oh!
Oh, oh oh no I see a
Nother gay man hanging by the church's steeple and I
Don't think I've ever seen this many angry white people
And I'm not sure why no one's being called,
Maybe it's as it always is, the rich are bored and
The poor are just another board game to them but I yell:
"People! Look over there there's a
Man in need, look close and you can see they've even killed
The crown of flowers in his hair" But
No one looks, no one gives a single care.
Not when they're all dying, no,
Not when there's no cure, only distraction
Dialing the speed back on a train destined to tumble off a cliff see
Nothing matters
When everyone's dying.
Juno Dec 2020
Silver rings
lined with gold.
High heeled boots,
fancy coat.
It seems that you have everything but i know it can’t be true.

Brand new phone;
shiny case.
House such a
dreamy place.
I turn away and act like i’m not so jealous of you.

I’ve been content in my small home.
My few possessions, outdated phone.
But to compare our lives is strange to me;
your brand clothes and my hand-me-down hoodie.
I just hope you’re aware of your money.
Mark Wanless Nov 2020
i am rich now
see dog squirrel and rabbit
huddled together
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