I want to be the richest person in the world,
Not in terms of money
But in love.
For money can nurture lust,
But love kindles benevolence.
Money can sow seeds of hatred,
But love reaps peace.
Money can build walls,
But love unites distinct.
Money brings solitude,
But love gives company.
Being rich would buy me fake respect,
But elite heart would keep me alive within heart of every individual.

The monk sat in his temple
Swathed in his saffron robe
While incense wafted through the air
Somewhere a gong could be heard, in the distance
Pristine, austere, noble
With all the trappings of wisdom
With the aura of enlightenment
With the odor of sanctity
With the nobility of humility
And the pilgrim asked him, are you poor?
“No,” said the monk
“For I desire nothing,
Cling to nothing
Long for nothing,
And so I am free,
Even rich
As though I possessed
The whole world.”

Francis sat in the dust
Covered in a beggar’s rags
While the scent of sewage lingered near
The coughing of the poor was heard, all round
*****, abject, neglected
With all the trappings of homelessness
With the aura of his friends, the sick
With the odor of his brothers, the abandoned
Having forsaken nobility for humility
And the pilgrim asked him, are you poor?
“No,” smiled Francis
“For I have found Him whom I desire,
I have cleaved fast to Him,
I am filled by Him,
And so I am free,
Even rich
For I do not need the world
When I embrace its Master.”

Three wishes I was given
but they were not to be used on me
I had to wish for something special
for other eyes to see--
so I wished for a rainbow to shine
on every dear family member
and friend of mine--
and then I wished for them to follow
the rainbow all the way through
and discover a *** of gold (yes, real gold!)
for them to use or hold onto--
But wish number three was the easiest of all
I wished for good health and blessings to befall
all of those I love so dear and true
and I hope you know, that these 3 wishes
are all wished for you!

Smothered in jewels
And chains of gold
The life most desired
By the inferior

Glamor and money
Become the dream
But the real dreamers
Think beyond the image

The chains reflect the rays of sunshine
Gaining the attention
But blinding the way

They hang heavy
Constraining each move

The outside voices
Control the opinions
And the money
Hides the truth

Red wine spills
You should know
It stains

When the lights eventually grow dim
The inferior become the superior
Left with true opulence
Or a lack of

I hope you're satisfied

Smiling, she glances in the mirror
her skirts falling gently into place.
There are her feminine riches,
simple in their daily splendor;
waving from the settling lace.

They, it doesn’t matter who,
could search the endless layers
and never truly see her;
though she hides within the bluish
fabric’s seams and tender tapers

Like legs or lips, she’ll never
part from her sweet sanities
for any sort of ‘gentleman’.
So rich she stays in clever
garbs, seen only in her vanity

A battered head,
a bleeding brow,
washed in silence.
This is a prayer
for the victims
of ignorant violence.

You don't know when it started,
you began feeling half-hearted.
The peace within is broken,
you want speak but your choking.
And you can't let it go,
never be unspoken.
Often you're left in stitches,
yet your soul is worth untold riches.

A dusty street,
where the children meet
that have no alliance.
This is a prayer
for the sufferers
of ignorant violence.

One day they're safe, then they're not,
wars are not what we sought.
Explosions only leave what you believe,
while the helpless mothers grieve,
crying for help from God.
The angels aren't coming,
their sounds are leading to nothing.

This is a prayer
for the shattered vagabonds.

They say that times were tough then

That money was very tight

But I remember my childhood

And I know that can't be right


Mom would cook our dinner

Dad came home at five
We were all sitting at the table

Waiting for him to arrive


We wouldn't eat from a microwave

Or a restaurant down the street

We all ate Mom's home cooking

And boy that can't be beat


We didn't eat in front of the TV

Or with a phone in our hand

We weren't plugged into a stereo
bopping to the latest band


We would all sit at the table

Everyone in their place

There were never any surprises

We recognized every face

Brothers to the left of me
Sisters to the right

That's the way we ate dinner

Every single night


We laughed we joked we talked we ate

We were a family don't you see

Though some may have been raised poor

You can see it wasn't me


We ate collards we ate biscuits

We ate fatback and blackeyed peas

We said yes sir we said no sir

We said thank you ma'am and please


So when you talk of family life

Or how it used to be

Though many had more money

None were as rich as me

A shy, quiet girl inherits all her grandmother's vintage belongings. "Amelia," whispered the thinning, cracked lips of a loving woman. "My lovely girl. Have all my finery and jewels, for I've always known you're an old soul. Show them the other side of you. Get yourself out." Before Amelia repels, Lady's hand loosens against Amelia's grip.
This memory looms in her dreams, awake or not. She grows into an elegant woman, rich and not easy to touch, lonely and a doll. People adore her, but only her vintages and fashion.
Grandmother, she thought. I am in a trunk of old riches, but I have no one. Would I die an old soul by myself?
Maybe Lady's last words didn't mean she should've been born before 21st. Not even close. Perhaps it wasn't because of her taste of jazz and frills and laces and pearls and Audrey.
Maybe all this time, it wasn't meant as a praise. All the while her grandmother could see, even before: she would die an old soul, alone and no one to cry on her grave. A little luxury might make her feel better.
Dearest grandmother, nothing did.
Dearest Amelia, all I wanted was for you to step out.

Dearest grandmother, they only liked my facades.