"bills" poems
We all want to Support
stopping racism,
because we sent black and white men to die in war together,
before we could be educated together,
The end gender inequality,
Because women can't where cloths,
and feel safe,
walking down a street alone,
with out feeling were going to get *****
Same or different *** relationships,
Because the way you love your significant other,
wouldn't be the same if they changed there gender to the other?
Transgender rights,
Because there a man everywhere else but in there pants,
And men don't get cervical cancers,
So yes legally changing my gender won't help me if i need a treatment only a lady would get,
and this goes vice a versa,
But I shouldn't have to worry about any other pains,
except the possibility of one in my unwanted ****
**** victims,
including males,
Yes you,
Feminist views,
Please just Stop over looking,
Men go though it too.
And we all may know men may be the main cause,
Women have just as much play,
No human,
Wants an unwanted Violation,
to come into any contact with them so personally,
See all these things,
we want to stop,
and they need to,
but,
When u last walked down the street,
what stranger did your Arrogant eyes peek?
they saw someone,
and you though they were,
too fat,
too small,
too tall,
a ****
needs to button up,
he used to pop pills,
now he cant pay his bills,
and there's so many I'm leaving out,
like what they thought about you,
so you see,
each of these little groups,
we just pass each other on the street,
even when we didn't even meet,
it's human nature,
our natural order,
to insult each other,
some just get the really blunt edge.
maybe we should change how we think and act,
before we go wishing for things out of our knack's.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
Lets stop n slam on somethin' shameful like war and anguish...
'Cause im pretty sure that tremendous termoil and suffering and starvation is the same in all languages...
But something that most of us will never know...
'Cause in this country you tend to grow a fat *** as you grow old.
Give this countries cold dark history a warm embrace, look it in the face!
All this killing, death, distruction, and disease...more war than peace!
Something most of us will never see, much less feel...Because ignoring it is so much easier.
We'd rather be pleasing ourselves than siezing the keys to this country!
Jump in.
Take a sunday drive for freedom.
Sunday football keeps you occupied...
Kicked back in the recliner, while others freeze in the name of the flag.
And your constitution.
And the human condition.
Patriotism is not pretty to the petty.
To...those getting rich, hand over fist...
On your...vacant homes, vacant jobs, and vacant votes.
While they vacate our education with more lousy legislation.
We get lazier and sleezier and sloppier.
We pass judgement on our fellow man...
While we let politicians pass bills that destroy this great land.
Hand over fist, hand over hand...one hand washes the other politicians ****
These dinosaurs with their special interest agendas make me sick.
Stand up strait.
Look at me when I talk to you.
Dont turn a blind eye to all the bodies that once hung from loops...
Remember where we came from.
Re-write history like the bible.
Re-write war and peace.
We call soldiers "property of uncle sam".
Brainwashed to believe in 'the man' and his plans.
Slavery doesn't segregate anymore.
We're all in on this together.
This time.
We stand in unison.
All in on this together.
Revolution is freedom.
Jan 5, 2010
Jan 5, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set
orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
spring"
the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
too much insufferable
having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit **** u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
concurrently
there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
failed
of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
men
maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted
where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
immediacy
heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
smothered life
but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a **** you
mirror
there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
She is equipped with sensitive *******
and those other secret places
that ladies give out as prizes
to deserving guys as long as
they adopt the right disguises
of gods, gurus, intellectual giants,
goats, children, father figures, macho brutes,
sugar-daddies, supermen, seminal vessels,
house-repairers, jar openers, jocks, hate objects,
handy shoulders to cry on, emotional support systems,
sensitive, intuitive, yet strong silent types
who can also pay the bills,
tall dark and handsome total strangers,
toy boys, clowns, jugglers, jokers, millionaires,
wood choppers, ******* removers,
bottomless reservoirs of reassurance
or just plain spunky studs when the moon is right.
In fact, anything but woffly wimps.
Oh God, no. Anything but woffly wimps.
Yes, but what about stoic, steadfast SNAGS,
you know, the Sensitive New Age Guys
who won’t face-shift for a ****
Yes, well, let's try to sum all this up here right now.
I think that the woman is dripping
with a brimming reservoir
of luscious and sensitive resources on tap for
the man who can figure out her cosmic kaleidoscope
of swirling dreams and desires,
which is definitely not to say she can’t be totally independent.
Although please don't be confused.
Friendly boy-next-door types who are handsome,
aren't too hairy, who like to laugh, who have a boyish braggadocio,
who are students, who appear to be intellectuals,
who are not nerds,
and who can **** it in the kitchen, who can be oh, so cool,
who can convince a maiden that she is in distress,
and is in need of rescuing, while he has
a swaggering hard-on will do, too.
Oooh. You devil.
And if you think this poem is misogynist, misanthropic or myopic,
well, I’ve been around and by now, well,
I really should be panoptic
because I’ve seen all the fads,
and really, it’s sadly too bad
about those poor old
earnest SNAGS.
But you know what?
I don't think I understand anything, because
I'm really a victim of worshiping women.
I'm bedazzled and as blind as the next man, and
yes,
I'm just happy whenever I'm with them.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
Attitude of Gratitude is the best day to start the day
It is harder to feel depressed when focusing on what I am thankful for
I am thankful for friend here on Hello Poetry and in my life too
I am thankful for my family
I am thankful for my health
I am thankful for each meal
I am thankful for a roof over my head, and at night for a bed
I am thankful for money to pay the bills
I am thankful for clothing to keep me warm in winter and to help protect my skin in summer.
I feel so much gratitude for this and so much more.
I guess you could say I have blessings galore
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 4:41 PM UTC
school starts soon
smoking joints on the weekday afternoon
in a sidelined shady
freight car, property of
Norfolk Southern
debating if this car will be
northbound or southbound
and ************ our fantasy
where we want to be taken
knowing full well maybe one of us -
(and they all looking at me)
will get out of this car and live to
see foreign places without having to
return in a body bag
we argue lazy who should go get the beer,
collect the quarters and sweaty dollar bills
and **** if I am not reappointed
leader of the beer fetching
besides it’s my
tan lab panting needing water so it’s my
responsibility and the nasty liquor store owner don’t hate me that much as the others so he’ll sell me beer without too much **** talk (some for sure)
asking where I’m laying low on a **** hot day like this one
tell him i’m getting on a train getting out of this two bit town which makes him reminisce and ask which direction
could be northbound could be southbound
hell could be west
but for sure won’t be
going eastbound
cause I seen the Atlantic and didn’t like it
too **** big and too **** cold,
too **** mean
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
I use technology to take me to a time when it only half-existed. In a blue-shell room of mega-pixel photographs and rolling news feeds, I can put on my headphones and disappear into an instrumental Sunday.
There are stamp collectors making their lazy way over beaten roads and disused railways. 'Surrender' only means to fall asleep and to leave your book as a hut on your bedside table. Where war may still go on and on,
but at least you don't have to hear about it. Show me the place where pine-cones fall and women stare across the river. Where coffee is for taste, and not self-medication. I want to walk bare-foot and feel thorns
toughen my heels, infect my blood with Earth or God or Any Other Name. We will **** in the bushes, singing those fragments of Leonard Cohen lyrics that we can still remember from times spent smoking in my room.
I can almost feel that pointless happiness. That location in a canopy to retreat when the bills are due, when the walls needs re-painting. When the neighbour strangles puppies and all you do is complain about the time.
I use new music set to old sounds: freed slaves living in the cross-hairs of tradition. White lovers breaking their hearts over guitar strings and harmonies, always a semi-tone apart. I find your hair on my pillow.
There is no technology in the world to distract me from that.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
i still remember the amount of butterflies that pounded my chest the first time i saw you
i counted each one to make sure none of them were lying
you looked at me like i had just changed the equilibrium of your universe
and talked to me so gently i had to read into every word
each word was like a novel, more interesting then the last
you told stories about passion, love, and loyalty
but managed to giggle your way through each stanza
while i just stood there, waiting for the time i could throw in my two cents
but your words were more like dollars, even larger bills
you were so rich with so much excitement, i couldn't help but think
i wonder if this person could ever love someone like me
i played the lottery for 1 week straight, hoping that my ticket would get me a plane seat with the destination being your heart
see i could have flown to fuji, hawaii or any of those places, but you were much more beautiful then any white sand beneath my feet
luckily when i sat down that night to watch the news and they called out my number
i jumped out of my seat and tried to pack as small as possible
because i knew that this was gunna be an adventure
but i had to have more room for you then for me
ever since then, i cherished everytime i get to look in your eyes.
everytime you wrapped your fingers around mine,
i feel like a baby covered in fresh sheets
tucked in so tightly that there was no possible way I couldn't have a good sleep
oh i love how you sleep, your lips so plump i can tell you kiss the dreams that make you feel happy
how you curl up against me, thinking i was pillow
but I just sit there, watching you, loving you and missing you even though your still here.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
Just think when you're sick of working
someones desperate for any job
someones got 4 jobs and still can't pay their bills
Just think when you're down
someones contemplating suicide
someones been diagnosed with terminal cancer
Just think when you're hungry
someones really starving
someones watching their child die
Just think when you're aching
someones yelling the pain is so much
someones screaming tortured for just being
Just think for a moment
step outside of yourself
for just 5 minutes
Be grateful for every single day
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
I love a sunburnt country,
but now the land's ablaze.
the oxygen we breathe has turned to dust
yet our request for help is denied.
I love a sunburnt country,
but there's not much left to last.
Firefighters aren't getting paid,
Neither are their bills.
yet our leader claims we're all fine
but he can afford to jet away.
The wildlife is damaged.
Koalas are losing homes.
much like the population
as the fires rip through their walls.
I love my sunburnt country,
but this has gone on too long.
while it's nice you're in hawaii Mr. Morrison,
everyone else is left to stand alone..
Dec 17, 2019
Dec 17, 2019 at 8:18 PM UTC
The local, strides through the rotten rails,
Metal to metal, rust to rust
The boggy sways and along with it, the hangers who
Hang in there, not by choice but by the might
Of time, distance, and bills to pay
The feeling is mutual as we stand, sway
Push, pull, and grab on to anything just to balance
Yet the journey never ends
It only begins.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
White powder on an iPhone case
Black coffee to mask the taste
Rolled bills against my face
Usually no one keeps pace
Sometimes I believe I've gone insane.
My allies made over a pile of *******
Veins burning awaiting more.
Eyes sore, but my feet seem to slide over the floor.
Heart pounding, nerves firing.
Tiring, not exhausting.
A workout for the burnout.
I have few hopes as to what I’ll turn out.
Only a mind away.
Numb, but alive.
I only feel what I'm prescribed
I’ll press on, needle to a record.
**** that.
I’m digital, my ideas, critical.
I’ll wake up each day with an eye for new breath.
I’ll keep moving forward, alone or in union, i’ve got a plan, and I’m gonna seek it.
Brick by brick, my world, I’ll build it.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC
Struggles, your and mine,
are different but the same..
MONEY
JOBS
BILLS
DEBT..
Learning that its not what struggles you have,
But how you come out of them that matters..
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
Oh speak to me
Goddess
Angel
Who wears her blue
Halo
Around her neck
Awaken
My dollar eyed deity
And point your fingers
Full of bills
To the answer
Or the lie
Spread your
Deceitful wings
And embrace the lost
Fill them
With greed
And show them
The paper and metal
Pathway to
Sadness
For the weak
Always
Kneel to your
Valuable allure
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
As a kid you just want to grow up
Even when the adults tell you not to
Independence and adulthood is your focus
When they warned us away from growing up
they forgot to mention a few things:
No one said being an adult would feel like drowning,
like a slow suffocation you do to yourself
You do what you have to in order to survive.
You keep breathing in the things that drown you,
because what else are you going to do with them
But with each breath you sink lower and lower.
With each breath you learn something new about yourself
With each breath you are forced to take under this water made of
bills,
and jobs,
a lot of responility
and not much sleep
you drown a little more
and resign your self to the slow death of adulthood
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:38 AM UTC
My eyelids seem
to be the strongest part of me.
When the rest of my body
falls
into the ocean
of blankets they
float open upon the white water
atop
the waves of sleep.
This is when you come back.
In this mattress I am a piece
of clay and I can still feel the deep indentations of where your fingers
wrapped themselves like Ivy around my hips.
Hips, that stuck out like white flags of surrender and
fell to the ground in a straight line.
I can still hear
you.
I am a broken record,
and your whispers are the only track that plays at this hour.
“You are fat”
“Look at how flat you are Emma, no boy will ever look at you.”
“You are ugly.”
These are the nights when I can
feel the spiderwebs your words wrapped around my ribs and
listen to the way my heart beats constricted
in its cage, your hand still clenched around it.
Can’t you see me bleeding?
Safety lies
beneath my eyelids but you pull them open
I can feel
your icy touch behind my eyes as I stare
coldly at the ceiling.
you demand to be heard.
Did you mean to put your words
in my pocket when you reached in to steal the sleep that was nestled there like crumpled dollar bills?
Do you realize that you stayed with me?
Can you take your stolen midnight hours back and place them on your pillowcase?
Will your eyelids close?
Or can you still hear my cries of protest as your soundtrack plays into the night?
I don't understand?
Did you think it wouldn't hurt me?
Or did you want to live forever,so you put your
fingerprints where you knew they wouldn't fade.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
This was just published so it is copyright 2015 by Holy Cow Press ~ mce
Poverty is the fence around your life. Poverty wakes you up at 4 AM only to whisper meaningless slogans in your ear. It is the school of Piranha nibbling at the back of your brain. It is two hours waiting in the anteroom of despair for $22 worth of food stamps and being glad to be there. It is changing your phone number frequently because bill collectors are such boring conversationalists. It is the empty space your heels used to fill. It is letting your hair grow long and scraggly and your grizzled beard sprout because you know that although you sleep in rented rooms tonight, the street is not far off, and you want to fit in when you arrive. Poverty scalds the lint from your pockets. It is your private Treblinka within which you rage but are crushed. It is desperate prayers against dental catastrophes, blown tires, surprises of any sort. Poverty is when everything you own is frayed including your nerves from sleepless moments spent trying to solve the equation that will make X number of dollars cover X + ? number of bills, knowing that such math would defeat Newton or Einstein. Poverty is eying the cat's kibble imagining that with a bit of sugar and a splash of milk it might be fine and then eyeballing the cat himself thinking of protein of last resort and trying not to measure him against the microwave door. You ration your cigarettes; whiskey is a fading memory. Passing a diner on the street, you catch a whiff of burgers too expensive to consider and experience a Pavlovian moment. Poverty is trying to keep your head up and then remembering you pawned your neck. Poverty is watching the needle eat your last few gallons of gas. Poverty is the archeology of despair. It portends the death of irony. There is nothing ironic about a car with 217,000 miles and no insurance on it. Facts are facts in the world of poverty. Poverty is the last quarter reclaimed from beneath the cushions. It is too much time and not enough quarters. It is the specious logic of the self-righteous proclaiming that you deserve to be poor because you are, which in Amerika passes for wisdom. Poverty makes each day like the next because nothing does not vary. It is who you are and where you are going, although you won't get far. It is the life you lead inside the fence. It is the sum of what you lack. It just is.
- mce
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
One eye staring at me,
The other eye staring into space.
Half a mind on my words,
The other half on groceries,
life,
bills.
And I'm dying on the inside,
Because I forgot why I should care
That his attention
is Elsewhere.
Feb 13, 2011
Feb 13, 2011 at 5:09 PM UTC
Hustle hard remix freestyle by : junior
(Rap)
Yea young junior baby
Work hard, get paid
Put foods on the table
Pay bills for my parents
My daughter need a kandle
***** I can't handle
Imma hustle hard
If you **** stop me
I will **** you up
Snap my fingers and money come to me
******* im the boss
That what I do
I'm so addict to money like honey *****
Imma making raining on this hoes
******* bend over and touch your toes
Get rich or dying trying
******* I told my dad if I didn't make money
Imma die trying
My daughter is my inspiration
Her smile is my motivation
******* are not my level
I see them pedal their bike
I'm on my Lamborghini niggas
I see my ***** kimbo
Watzup ***** how are u doing
50 cent said, hey homie swish your style up but if they hate let the money pile up.
**** all my ******
Yea kisss my ***
I just miss your funny jokes
If you keep talkin **** behind my back
Imma come and choke you ******
******* I'm not playing
I'm gettin money like 50cent
You *** hoes
I'm ************* *****
***** ****** say, yo jr **** this *****
Yea imma do that ****
While my daughter swimming with the fish
I call her mermaid ******
I'm making money money
You ****** ******* *****
*****
************ ****** wat wrong with this haters
I used to chase ***** until my dad told to chase money
***** ain't my time
Bro, it good tho
I'm wearing bing chain until girls call me **** while ****** hate on me
Let them hate but they can't touch me
Let me take you in the past
When I was a kid
I love big things
Big cars, big house, big ***** and big ****
Dad asked me, son what your fave car
I said, Lamborghini
He said, **** son this **** is expensive
I said, dad I got this
To all this ****** shot my bro cause he was tryin to get money to feed his daughter
**** you, I'm here to **** you up
I'm your ****** nightmare
If you try to get money
Imma come to rob you and **** you
Show no love cause love will get you **** that what 50cent say
All day I'm right here
I'm not goin nowhere
Imma hustle hard until I died
God forgives but I don't ******
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
I walk around my neighborhood with my sister
We wear white mask and black coats with hoods
There’s never anyone in the neighborhood
She said
"It's too quiet."
Yet you could hear the sink left on
From houses people forgot they had
Maybe they lost their house keys
"Did you know that before that house was bought, there were squatters ?"
"How do you know?"
"I know because they were teens like me, but they ran out of luck.”
“They had no money, did they?”
“No money for what? Oh, they had money, but not enough.”
“Enough for what?”
I said “Making dreams come true in reality.”
I remember telling my mom what I wanted to do for others in life
Once I got done she asked me
“But what do you want for yourself?”
I said
“To be known.”
She said
“What if your not known like singers, dancers and actors?”
See I hadn't thought that far.
Maybe that's why they became squatters
In a house with broken blinds
There was not a place for them
My sister said
“Maybe their dreams slipped through a crack in the floor of their old house.”
Of the house in which they prayed for things to get better.
Paid light and water bills
And barely made it
She asked if they were lovers
“If they were, I wouldn't know. I doubt it.”
We wipe the condensation from the insides of our mask
With the ends of our sleeves and adjust our hoods
As they adjust their blinds to the outside world.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 1:52 PM UTC
Gotta write about what’s weighing you down
About the things making you frown
Don’t hold it in mama,
You need to let go
Make room for your roots to grow
For your stems to flow
Let your flowers blossom
Pull the weeds and toss em
Bring back that old smile
It’s been a while since I’ve seen you
I know it’s hard mama but bills are due
Wipe the tears
Face your fears
Hold your temper
Remember to pull your strength from last September
The memories make you cry
But let the tears fuel your drive!
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
We were the mystery
We were the shaking of heads
We were the whispers in the bathroom at 11 am
We were the smoke in the hallways
We were the leaves catching on air currents
like "I don't care how or why but I'm going somewhere"
We were balled up bills in the crook of
someone's sweaty Xanax palm
We were the lamps at night burning
We were the lasers on the ceiling
We were the lines of chemicals waiting on the counter
We were nothing good
nothing but mud and regrets on our feet
The teachers shook their heads
wondered to themselves how we ever got to sleep
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
He filled his week bag
with quick picks from the commissary
cover blades and skull cap
canned goods and half stated pearl
liquor bills and bleeders
for the flight of weary
Into the ****** bunks
of the western front
past sivana and nurture sage
past the pomp and ceremony
out of robes and into jumpers
and casings
and masks of gas
Light infantry and yelling men
muscled and scorned
fly boys high in 3 wing flight
mounted gunners filling the night
in hawkers and packards
and scabbard chape
Tarrant tabers and camels
dodge the vicker gun
skeleton hands grease the mill trap
carnage makers mark the rhineland
(buried in bunkers and pile bags and earth pack)
Trench helmets and metal back
under machine fire
minefields burn in muzzle and coil
deep in the shadows
and shrapnel and spear
the razor wire
and dead cold despair
Slouch hats and burning rats
kerosene lamps and droopers
the soldier stares down
the broken lines and limbs
a ****** holds steady
(shelved at a distance)
on ripped and rolled pipe and beam
It was an all in end game
a grapple for the ages;
*** in the fokker pursuit
over rolling hills and fallen comrades
into the bishop bullet
(and sporadic cheer)
which sealed the deal
in an empty field
off the brae corbie road
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
I have a working life Monday to Friday.
When the weekend comes I’m going to do it my way.
I get focus as put on NBA 2K.
I’m going to start my career today.
On this game my player will reach fame.
Wishing I was him...a star.
Not sure when in reality I will do the same.
Imagine me with fresh kicks, fresh clothes, and a chain.
Carry more paper bills than I do change.
I’ll switch the game and not complain
Time to relax and kick my feet back.
Turn on GTA try to raise up them stacks.
Run up the streets and prepare to attack.
This is my therapy I don’t need no feedback.
I mostly like open world games...
At the moment I play The Division 2.
When my best friend is home.
We look for enemies we have to shoot.
Finding items for protection even boots.
I guess what attracts me is the high tech gadgets.
I need them on those high level.
Very intense action my lady comes I ignore her distraction.
I take my headset off and have her repeat what she was asking.
I may be a Gamer but My Lady still come first.
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
Thousands of us were displaced
Started careers late
Not lucky enough to have had great jobs
So we work hard
Put ourselves through night school
While taking care of family
Finally ...
Yes, yeah, whoopee
Did it !
Once again completed school
Another certificate added to the growing list of achievements.
More bills owed to uncle Sam
Going on numerous job interviews
No one's responding
Instead ...
All this knowledge stored in your head
Current jobs pays minimum wages
Those colleges attended; mounting
When you try to get ahead -
They hold on to their employments
As if,
It's Rocket science
Looking for younger, greener admits
Once AARP comes a knocking on
Your door
You know they don't want your
Expertise anymore
What's one to do
Still strong, healthy, seasoned
Educated, no strings to boot
Hopelessly stuck in a world of
"We will call you "
So at the tender age of fifty
Thoughts of starting your own business floats in your head
Right
Now, back to school
For another certificate
A chance to use that knowledge
Put bread on the table
Feel useful
Quality of life renewed.
JRap /2016
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 1:46 PM UTC