#cash - Hello Poetry

seeded dreams an advertisers game demographic bullseye another dollar gained.

0

Apr 4

Apr 4, 2026 at 7:49 AM UTC

nivek

10w an unsuspecting mark

seeded dreams an advertisers game demographic bullseye another dollar gained.

4

pennies rattle the can silent paper notes flutter -from hand to hand. the market place where many dreams -come to die. a cold pavement for a bed -the blind pass by. blinded by self-regard forever pointing out -the scapegoat.

0

Feb 8

Feb 8, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC

nivek

the scapegoat

pennies rattle the can silent paper notes flutter -from hand to hand. the market place where many dreams -come to die. a cold pavement for a bed -the blind pass by. blinded by self-regard forever pointing out -the scapegoat.

12

Three meals a day, a new sportscar A weekend away to places afar Chains of gold and diamond rings A pool, a garden, a house fit for kings A new shiny thing thats all the rage Your photo on the latest front page A bike, a boat, a camping bus A bank account with a great big plus Will we ever be satisfied? Or will something new catch our eye And **** the cash out of our pocket faster than a speeding rocket. We toil and work all day long To earn the money that is so soon gone On things that we don't really need To scratch the itch of our civilized greed Minutes to hours, hours to days Our given time soon slips away and all that we have then achieved Insignificant now, for we must leave One day, too late we will realize With failing Breath and weary eyes That true wealth is measured In the currency of Time

0

Jan 4

Jan 4, 2026 at 2:47 PM UTC

Chris-

How much is enough?

Three meals a day, a new sportscar A weekend away to places afar Chains of gold and diamond rings A pool, a garden, a house fit for kings A new shiny thing thats all the rage Your photo on the latest front page A bike, a boat, a camping bus A bank account with a great big plus Will we ever be satisfied? Or will something new catch our eye And **** the cash out of our pocket faster than a speeding rocket. We toil and work all day long To earn the money that is so soon gone On things that we don't really need To scratch the itch of our civilized greed Minutes to hours, hours to days Our given time soon slips away and all that we have then achieved Insignificant now, for we must leave One day, too late we will realize With failing Breath and weary eyes That true wealth is measured In the currency of Time

24

She said a $40 haircut For her one year old kid, That's more than I have ever paid for a haircut Twice as much than I ever did. This generation of parents: They blow through cash Faster than an incoming tsunami, Especially the first generation refugees Those daily purchases bring happiness to Mommy, There's no penny pinching They got to have the best for their kid, But a forty-dollar baby haircut? God forbid!

0

Oct 10, 2025

Oct 10, 2025 at 1:29 PM UTC

s-1-mpl-3-po-3-t

Forty Dollar Haircut

She said a $40 haircut For her one year old kid, That's more than I have ever paid for a haircut Twice as much than I ever did. This generation of parents: They blow through cash Faster than an incoming tsunami, Especially the first generation refugees Those daily purchases bring happiness to Mommy, There's no penny pinching They got to have the best for their kid, But a forty-dollar baby haircut? God forbid!

13

When a poet dies thrown, to the sound of the wind only the doves, will cry When a poet passes away heaven/hell, won't blow open the gates whether, it be night, or day When a poet expires and words are cast to the wind poet thrown, into the fire When a poet turns into ash the wind, will blow it away and maybe, just maybe at the very last all their poems will turn into cash

0

Apr 13, 2025

Apr 13, 2025 at 9:24 AM UTC

TemporalFugue

The Wind of Poetic Justice?

When a poet dies thrown, to the sound of the wind only the doves, will cry When a poet passes away heaven/hell, won't blow open the gates whether, it be night, or day When a poet expires and words are cast to the wind poet thrown, into the fire When a poet turns into ash the wind, will blow it away and maybe, just maybe at the very last all their poems will turn into cash

16

I was looking for a dream in soulless eyes. You thought that I was just like you And milked the light from this star You sold my brightness for profit And now I wonder how far you are I thought that you would give me my light back But you led me into a fire Lured me in with ink and a page And now I'm trapped in a burning cage I watch the stars in the night sky The ones I once knew You crush them down to ash You sell them out for cash I wanted to be just like you But that isn't my goal anymore I will be so much better Is that what you wanted, too? I inherited your soulless eyes Do you see my dream in them?

0

Apr 6, 2025

Apr 6, 2025 at 1:55 PM UTC

EmeryF

I was Looking for a Dream in Soulless Eyes

I was looking for a dream in soulless eyes. You thought that I was just like you And milked the light from this star You sold my brightness for profit And now I wonder how far you are I thought that you would give me my light back But you led me into a fire Lured me in with ink and a page And now I'm trapped in a burning cage I watch the stars in the night sky The ones I once knew You crush them down to ash You sell them out for cash I wanted to be just like you But that isn't my goal anymore I will be so much better Is that what you wanted, too? I inherited your soulless eyes Do you see my dream in them?

19

Is it worth it, To pay straight from your wallet, To a computer screen? Yet not feeling, The weight leave your pocket, Getting a moment to think, is this worth it?

0

Mar 6, 2025

Mar 6, 2025 at 9:29 AM UTC

AbbottJHardison

Apple Pay

Is it worth it, To pay straight from your wallet, To a computer screen? Yet not feeling, The weight leave your pocket, Getting a moment to think, is this worth it?

6

One of the historical challenges Of money is transacting across the Borders of our world’s many nations. Money in one nation or area is often Not accepted in another nation, and Requires expensive (and controlled) Exchanges in order to transfer value Therefore We need a digitally native, borderless Money permitting near-instantaneous Global transfers of value. This peer to Peer electronic cash system is now Operating successfully, started in 2008 by Satoshi Nakamoto. This Is the truly open Bitcoin Network.

0

Oct 22, 2024

Oct 22, 2024 at 10:58 AM UTC

bitcoinpoems

Borders Vs. Borderless (Bitcoin Poem 116) Problems/Solutions 30

One of the historical challenges Of money is transacting across the Borders of our world’s many nations. Money in one nation or area is often Not accepted in another nation, and Requires expensive (and controlled) Exchanges in order to transfer value Therefore We need a digitally native, borderless Money permitting near-instantaneous Global transfers of value. This peer to Peer electronic cash system is now Operating successfully, started in 2008 by Satoshi Nakamoto. This Is the truly open Bitcoin Network.

15

We all get rich, it fixes every thing, c'mon Initial Public Offering. Made inclusively to all the children of all the wombed men, but one, by now, none else, for eons, unmarked save in ashes under ancient tells, none of these people, these *** of the gods, and the one, daughter of man who signed off on this story. -live forever- Thinking attracting needs, deeds done that send funds, to wipe debt from mind. Bring the wizard, strip him bare, grind him to gore and gristle, bone blood and all the biles, shake it up, jiggle in the sack of skin, watchit burst and puddle in the flame, is this pyrex? See Bunsen burning in my brain, a mixture now, oh wow Schmachten-burger, cheese, *** of enlightened hippie jews, shapers shaped in common fashion, after the sixties finished, there arose guides to the goy who knew nothing of the mystery, save that Alice Toklas was not gay, in the Nineties way Oy-vey, cultural appropriation, Jah, Jah is ours, as you well know, we have esoterica galore, here buy a mezuzah, ya, gutglück - all ah, ala phylacteries raditional-rootish, and these use that same parchment, goat skin, very kosher halal and all, done under strictest supervision, seeing super see, is something the literate, Phoenicians, Shem shah-mans, and their accountants, first discovered the territory within the skull of man, was open to other minds, in matters of wit inventions'nshit, set a will to a way, watch, come the future, we are famous… who invented the wheel? watch, watch, it winds around, a motion, anchored to a plain truth in the left cerebral sorting station, reflecting back, rectal-rectumly linearly right co- oh, I see cor-rect or co-recht, co-right, if nobody's wrong. But there is no hateful god who made hell for those who, honed as honed may be, in punctual efforting so sharp, even on thorny issues, motes floating in the occular consomme, slightly briney aqueous humor, ha to make a point in time to pierce anything in my way see clear, plumb the depths truth's base idea, some things wish vehemently to be known, must-er-ion, quest, ionic tipping point whence the ring of eight slips a point, and specs call ion ion whither went thee? ion, zion sion, see the gleam, golden oil, yes, yes indeed, I did, I did pray for this, or something sorta like it, peace on earth, good will toward man, reconciliation complete perceived as done. Can you hear me? Did I lose loose links to long lies, left tied to the stakeholders souls? When did we realize the difference? It must have taken years, and now, we see, match the noses, the eyes, or deeper even, look into the whites of their mother's eggs… see and know, or trust me, I know, one wombed man's children, one, the officially loneliest number. One wom'man, woe, science, not Genesis, or Enuma Elish, or the story from Braiding Sweetgrass, but, old, old stories, told, once, at least, by a witness, -- it was as if the bone and all it was, was altered, by a bit, a Y got a leg, or lost one, I do not know, but bone of my bone, was that one little bit, more in one way, at the stem, and as branching began, the one had daughters, who bhor daughters, while from that generation forward, the many others, bore no children of any breathing form, soon, for this was not so long ago, mitomom, you know, she had sisters and cousins and aunts and a mother who had a mother and a father who had a mother. None of the eggs in those wombs, ever lived to now, but the eggs of the one wombed man we must accept, she who shaped all after ever began that instant when, only one line remained, and there was no war. No reason, at the time, but soon in geo time, we grew apart, branching on rivers when we found them on our journeys from the east - I think she was likely deep dark brown, she links me to you, stem cell level and below, logos in touch, the code of silence. A cone, yes, the cone of silence, rolled from fool'scap, common in the great leaps forward, through the ages, as sons and daughters were born, but once, something occurred, a virus, or a leaven, or fish, perhaps, rancid oil while the child waited for its form to form in the wombed man, now known as mom. She, Mitochondrial source of the code that keeps us alive. The same basic way batteries in blood have been made since knowing clickt. Universes, realms of human reasons, piled in lattice work bits and pieces, joints and joiners, that fit in particular places to form certain shapes of things to come, it is all very miniaturized, nano nano scale… yes, did you know him, Mork? I never did. _ he does that so you don't think him arrogant, ashamed to admit the use of the mind of christ in a secular win the game way. But what the hell, knowing ain't cheating, if you know what's right, wanna place a wager on the Robinhood IPO? I gotta plan, see… we go into such and such a city, we buy, we sell, ---intshallah but this is the secret, we sell debt, you owe me, right, it works, it always works, give and it is given unto you, pressed down, running over -- goods and services, nothing taxable or tithe-able, riches with no sorrow, added. You interested? One time buy in. Two bits.

0

Jul 22, 2021

Jul 22, 2021 at 5:29 PM UTC

kenpepiton

For the widow's two bit coins

We all get rich, it fixes every thing, c'mon Initial Public Offering. Made inclusively to all the children of all the wombed men, but one, by now, none else, for eons, unmarked save in ashes under ancient tells, none of these people, these *** of the gods, and the one, daughter of man who signed off on this story. -live forever- Thinking attracting needs, deeds done that send funds, to wipe debt from mind. Bring the wizard, strip him bare, grind him to gore and gristle, bone blood and all the biles, shake it up, jiggle in the sack of skin, watchit burst and puddle in the flame, is this pyrex? See Bunsen burning in my brain, a mixture now, oh wow Schmachten-burger, cheese, *** of enlightened hippie jews, shapers shaped in common fashion, after the sixties finished, there arose guides to the goy who knew nothing of the mystery, save that Alice Toklas was not gay, in the Nineties way Oy-vey, cultural appropriation, Jah, Jah is ours, as you well know, we have esoterica galore, here buy a mezuzah, ya, gutglück - all ah, ala phylacteries raditional-rootish, and these use that same parchment, goat skin, very kosher halal and all, done under strictest supervision, seeing super see, is something the literate, Phoenicians, Shem shah-mans, and their accountants, first discovered the territory within the skull of man, was open to other minds, in matters of wit inventions'nshit, set a will to a way, watch, come the future, we are famous… who invented the wheel? watch, watch, it winds around, a motion, anchored to a plain truth in the left cerebral sorting station, reflecting back, rectal-rectumly linearly right co- oh, I see cor-rect or co-recht, co-right, if nobody's wrong. But there is no hateful god who made hell for those who, honed as honed may be, in punctual efforting so sharp, even on thorny issues, motes floating in the occular consomme, slightly briney aqueous humor, ha to make a point in time to pierce anything in my way see clear, plumb the depths truth's base idea, some things wish vehemently to be known, must-er-ion, quest, ionic tipping point whence the ring of eight slips a point, and specs call ion ion whither went thee? ion, zion sion, see the gleam, golden oil, yes, yes indeed, I did, I did pray for this, or something sorta like it, peace on earth, good will toward man, reconciliation complete perceived as done. Can you hear me? Did I lose loose links to long lies, left tied to the stakeholders souls? When did we realize the difference? It must have taken years, and now, we see, match the noses, the eyes, or deeper even, look into the whites of their mother's eggs… see and know, or trust me, I know, one wombed man's children, one, the officially loneliest number. One wom'man, woe, science, not Genesis, or Enuma Elish, or the story from Braiding Sweetgrass, but, old, old stories, told, once, at least, by a witness, -- it was as if the bone and all it was, was altered, by a bit, a Y got a leg, or lost one, I do not know, but bone of my bone, was that one little bit, more in one way, at the stem, and as branching began, the one had daughters, who bhor daughters, while from that generation forward, the many others, bore no children of any breathing form, soon, for this was not so long ago, mitomom, you know, she had sisters and cousins and aunts and a mother who had a mother and a father who had a mother. None of the eggs in those wombs, ever lived to now, but the eggs of the one wombed man we must accept, she who shaped all after ever began that instant when, only one line remained, and there was no war. No reason, at the time, but soon in geo time, we grew apart, branching on rivers when we found them on our journeys from the east - I think she was likely deep dark brown, she links me to you, stem cell level and below, logos in touch, the code of silence. A cone, yes, the cone of silence, rolled from fool'scap, common in the great leaps forward, through the ages, as sons and daughters were born, but once, something occurred, a virus, or a leaven, or fish, perhaps, rancid oil while the child waited for its form to form in the wombed man, now known as mom. She, Mitochondrial source of the code that keeps us alive. The same basic way batteries in blood have been made since knowing clickt. Universes, realms of human reasons, piled in lattice work bits and pieces, joints and joiners, that fit in particular places to form certain shapes of things to come, it is all very miniaturized, nano nano scale… yes, did you know him, Mork? I never did. _ he does that so you don't think him arrogant, ashamed to admit the use of the mind of christ in a secular win the game way. But what the hell, knowing ain't cheating, if you know what's right, wanna place a wager on the Robinhood IPO? I gotta plan, see… we go into such and such a city, we buy, we sell, ---intshallah but this is the secret, we sell debt, you owe me, right, it works, it always works, give and it is given unto you, pressed down, running over -- goods and services, nothing taxable or tithe-able, riches with no sorrow, added. You interested? One time buy in. Two bits.

161

My dear friend please show me How to act like I know these Bumbling facades running this place They’re all fakes that take up the space Stuck in a whirling fantasy of power and fame Tucked in a twirling travesty of towers of blame That they could never take for themselves Lingering at the top takes a lot of help They have gluttonous accounts, that makes all the headlines Without the money around it’d be an endless breadline

0

Apr 1, 2021

Apr 1, 2021 at 2:03 AM UTC

winnalynnwood

Ignorance Incarnate

My dear friend please show me How to act like I know these Bumbling facades running this place They’re all fakes that take up the space Stuck in a whirling fantasy of power and fame Tucked in a twirling travesty of towers of blame That they could never take for themselves Lingering at the top takes a lot of help They have gluttonous accounts, that makes all the headlines Without the money around it’d be an endless breadline

10

War is warning of chaos if the dragon is slain, whathe-el, yes, god, yes, we have a myth for for this, for now, a metaphor, aforethought, it is that Promethean redemption, aha, the sun goes down, let the healing begin, this is a classic, not every inspiring thing has origins in a book. Word, gramma say, way back, -- reminds me, I put gas in the Prius today, as I walked in to buy some papers, in the little store where the **** bays was, back when I first heard Johnny Cash, thinking' he was some kinda man in black, from assorted darkness legends, I hear him singin' I fell in to a burnin' rang o' fire, went down down, the flames shot higher… I was about seven… **** bays was where hot-rodders and cruisers hung out, if you grew up on a paved road to California and Nevada, at a junction in time and space, ~ 150-170 miles south of all the tests, same winds that brang rain t' St. George… The moment, the music, a crossover hit, hallelujah, like -- reminds me, as I walked in to buy some papers, in the little store where the young Chaldean manning the store hears me, as I -- say, ********* HAHA, as I re-cogitate the first bars of I walk the line, then I see the guy behind the sneeze, wall agree, I love this music, we both say, and he goes on to say, I wonder what it was like to be alive when he was alive… I swipe my card and say, it was like being alive when I was alive. like -- reminds me, mark that fact - you spoke to an old man buying papers, this is the future, did you never read of the last being first? the boy bade me have a nice day. So I did.

0

Nov 3, 2020

Nov 3, 2020 at 8:31 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Election night and Johnny Cash

War is warning of chaos if the dragon is slain, whathe-el, yes, god, yes, we have a myth for for this, for now, a metaphor, aforethought, it is that Promethean redemption, aha, the sun goes down, let the healing begin, this is a classic, not every inspiring thing has origins in a book. Word, gramma say, way back, -- reminds me, I put gas in the Prius today, as I walked in to buy some papers, in the little store where the **** bays was, back when I first heard Johnny Cash, thinking' he was some kinda man in black, from assorted darkness legends, I hear him singin' I fell in to a burnin' rang o' fire, went down down, the flames shot higher… I was about seven… **** bays was where hot-rodders and cruisers hung out, if you grew up on a paved road to California and Nevada, at a junction in time and space, ~ 150-170 miles south of all the tests, same winds that brang rain t' St. George… The moment, the music, a crossover hit, hallelujah, like -- reminds me, as I walked in to buy some papers, in the little store where the young Chaldean manning the store hears me, as I -- say, ********* HAHA, as I re-cogitate the first bars of I walk the line, then I see the guy behind the sneeze, wall agree, I love this music, we both say, and he goes on to say, I wonder what it was like to be alive when he was alive… I swipe my card and say, it was like being alive when I was alive. like -- reminds me, mark that fact - you spoke to an old man buying papers, this is the future, did you never read of the last being first? the boy bade me have a nice day. So I did.

52

I walked the street, I was the lottery, and when you span the wheel you were a winner... Jackpot, you got all the chambers.. And I wept..

0

Mar 28, 2020

Mar 28, 2020 at 4:44 PM UTC

poetic-t

When Dusk Falls

I walked the street, I was the lottery, and when you span the wheel you were a winner... Jackpot, you got all the chambers.. And I wept..

6

Indestructible, for Johnny Cash by Michael R. Burch What is a mountain, but stone? Or a spire, but a trinket of steel? Johnny Cash is gone, black from his hair to his bootheels. Can a man out-endure mountains’ stone if his songs lift us closer to heaven? Can the steel in his voice vibrate on till his words are our manna and leaven? Then sing, all you mountains of stone, with the rasp of his voice, and the gravel. Let the twang of thumbed steel lead us home through these weary dark ways all men travel. For what is a mountain, but stone? Or a spire, but a trinket of steel? Johnny Cash lives on— black from his hair to his bootheels. Originally published by Strong Verse. When I was a teenager Johnny Cash used to pop into the Nashville McDonald’s where I worked to buy burgers after the Grand Ole Opry let out. True to his nickname, the Man in Black always wore black. I think he’s as immortal now as human beings can become, since someone will be singing songs he wrote and and recorded till the end of time. Keywords/Tags: Johnny Cash, black, hair, clothes, boots, voice, rasp, gravel, steel, guitar, songs, music, mountain, stone, heaven, manna, leaven

0

Mar 22, 2020

Mar 22, 2020 at 1:39 AM UTC

michael-r-burch

Indestructible, for Johnny Cash

Indestructible, for Johnny Cash by Michael R. Burch What is a mountain, but stone? Or a spire, but a trinket of steel? Johnny Cash is gone, black from his hair to his bootheels. Can a man out-endure mountains’ stone if his songs lift us closer to heaven? Can the steel in his voice vibrate on till his words are our manna and leaven? Then sing, all you mountains of stone, with the rasp of his voice, and the gravel. Let the twang of thumbed steel lead us home through these weary dark ways all men travel. For what is a mountain, but stone? Or a spire, but a trinket of steel? Johnny Cash lives on— black from his hair to his bootheels. Originally published by Strong Verse. When I was a teenager Johnny Cash used to pop into the Nashville McDonald’s where I worked to buy burgers after the Grand Ole Opry let out. True to his nickname, the Man in Black always wore black. I think he’s as immortal now as human beings can become, since someone will be singing songs he wrote and and recorded till the end of time. Keywords/Tags: Johnny Cash, black, hair, clothes, boots, voice, rasp, gravel, steel, guitar, songs, music, mountain, stone, heaven, manna, leaven

19

Life is a suicide Note. For when you die, Everyone reads your last words.. My last vocals read by anothet would invite All those I hate. Just to tell those greedy **** losers **** you, your broke, #money grabbing mother ******* Then those I love those I respect would be watching it live, Giggling thinking dark sense of Humoured ****** I love you all, but those hyena ******* Can choke on my ashes...

0

Aug 26, 2019

Aug 26, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC

poetic-t

Hunting around the pond

Life is a suicide Note. For when you die, Everyone reads your last words.. My last vocals read by anothet would invite All those I hate. Just to tell those greedy **** losers **** you, your broke, #money grabbing mother ******* Then those I love those I respect would be watching it live, Giggling thinking dark sense of Humoured ****** I love you all, but those hyena ******* Can choke on my ashes...

16

If you mined my mind all you would find are tattoos of you and your fine *** behind

0

Jul 2, 2019

Jul 2, 2019 at 6:04 PM UTC

rizmack

Catch me outside

If you mined my mind all you would find are tattoos of you and your fine *** behind

2

pledges to purchase intent on acquisition baby-grow wishful thinking

0

Feb 5, 2019

Feb 5, 2019 at 8:16 PM UTC

annh

White Nylon Society

pledges to purchase intent on acquisition baby-grow wishful thinking

3

Two pigeons Resting lip of ATM Nature's kind tellers.

0

Nov 19, 2018

Nov 19, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC

TimelessWave

Withdrawal

Two pigeons Resting lip of ATM Nature's kind tellers.

3

Imprisoned in satin seductions, like a jail cell of purity stained. You were meant to be my saviour. But you sold me on like cattle..

0

Sep 16, 2018

Sep 16, 2018 at 4:16 PM UTC

poetic-t

Satin Chains

Imprisoned in satin seductions, like a jail cell of purity stained. You were meant to be my saviour. But you sold me on like cattle..

6

Spending it to make it? Now that’s money Consumable and hoardable folly’s quest yet necessary evil How much is enough? Too little? Too great? Does anyone deserve it can you earn it and be happy or is it all together absurd?

0

Aug 7, 2018

Aug 7, 2018 at 10:59 AM UTC

Phi_Kenzie

Money

Spending it to make it? Now that’s money Consumable and hoardable folly’s quest yet necessary evil How much is enough? Too little? Too great? Does anyone deserve it can you earn it and be happy or is it all together absurd?

10

They called me yesterday a mission to the stars hell of a long way too go the distance, very far A Galactic Ambassador emissary to the Universe teach them of us myriad and diverse Messages from earth to them communications key what they may want too trade valuables, we'll see I'd only caution patience Corporations would demand we rip them off every time as per the Corporate plan

0

Jun 2, 2018

Jun 2, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC

TemporalFugue

Spacial Corporations

They called me yesterday a mission to the stars hell of a long way too go the distance, very far A Galactic Ambassador emissary to the Universe teach them of us myriad and diverse Messages from earth to them communications key what they may want too trade valuables, we'll see I'd only caution patience Corporations would demand we rip them off every time as per the Corporate plan

16