"entrepreneur" poems
Where do I start
How should i begin,
I guess i will just write
until the very end,
I could start with my name
and where i am from,
Yes, I will start with that
and then more will come,
My name is Dylan
and I was born in North Carolina,
I am nineteen years old
but I feel even older,
I look much younger or so I am told
My days are long and filled with joy
I have a daughter
No, not a boy
I work, go to school, and am a father
I own my own business
As God as my witness
I have a beautiful companion
who is full of life
She is my joy
No, not a boy
My two girls are my life
one is my daughter
The other my future wife
My Passion is Business
My title is Entrepreneur
I love what i do
Which is more than most
If you love your work
Than you too can boast
My business is a brand
Perception Apparel is the name
I create unique Clothes
And nothing is quite the same
Check me out,
The website is the name!
Among my hobbies sports are fairly high
Basketball is my favorite
Still not sure why
Other interests may include:
Food, movies, and long walks on the beach
This is begining to sound like a date
I can't think of anything else to say
My life in 300 words
It is sort of sad in a way
My life in one paragraph
Yet i have nothing left to say?
Well It seems I have begun to rant
I hope now you may know me
There is not much to see
For this is all there is to me
In essence of time
let's bring this to a close
And if you are lost, this was my Prose.
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 9:36 AM UTC
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur
Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous
Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur
Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious
Amorously arduous ardent raconteur
Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous
Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur
Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous
Sorcerous sabbatical apothegms chauffeur
Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous
Futurity fatidics fornication kithe
Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts
Empirical emulation scenarios blithe
Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts
Agile articulation acuities lithe
Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts
Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe
Numinous syntactical paradigm *****
Emanate imminent perdition tithe
Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts
Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous
Apex crux axis ****** matrix torrid
Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous
Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid
endearingly engendering amore
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
*Tybee , the Masters sonata of wind , crashing wave , sand and tide , Alpha and Omega of rippling current , mighty Savannah River completes her southern journey here .. As Sailor , ****** and maritime entrepreneur , embark , having left the security of her shore into the mighty , unforgiving Atlantic , her Lighthouse , a living testament to sacrifice , safe return to port as well as those forever lost at sea*
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Let a man call misunderstanding bad luck.
God of Mercy, is it misunderstanding or bad luck.
Devil say is a bad luck and they trust.
I say is a misunderstanding but they do not trust.
Any training is a bad luck to you
Any tough moment is a bad luck to you
Is it not misunderstanding, this is misunderstanding.
Is it a bad luck or misunderstanding?
Is it fair for an unrecognized entrepreneur to search for a job?
If yes that is misunderstanding, pray for him/her to understand.
Is it fair for one man to get a Job and ten become jobless?
Is it fair for an unrecognized entrepreneur to search for a job?
If yes that is misunderstanding, pray for him/her to understand.
Is it fair for one man to get a Job and ten become jobless?
Written - undefined
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 4:59 AM UTC
With that, my Parapets should find Content
Knowing you and all Involved will migrate
But only sever out those Post-Chains sent
Will I be Enlightened from this Debate
I should go first, seeing this Program, I,
The Valleyed Entrepreneur once invest
For special - Hearts which ferrimost go by
And boost this Capital for all your Best
Only a matter when my eyes Break Lens
Which, for once, these Songs never did Exist
Since configured to Sportive Water's sense
Those Borrowed Drums whose Beat will now resist.
With my lips pursed, to the top of my mane
I Thank you once again, Beauty's Maiden Name.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 3:29 AM UTC
Halfway between Malta and Saco,
Highway 2 stops a minute
To look back...
Beside the road
A little shrine waits
The traveler:
A stone, naturally shaped
To form a sleeping buffalo,
But etched with lines to emphasize
The dozing buff's back and sides
And drowsing head.
Nearby, a 1920s entrepreneur
Saw money to be made...
Set up a happenstance hotel
Beside the hot and sulf'rus spring,
And "Sleeping Buffalo" was born
To "heal" and to amuse
Odd tourists in their wandering.
Not much has changed...
The old buff sleeps,
But now inside a little pen
To keep the tourist vandals
Safely from his way.
The old resort is open still...
Same rusty pipes and yellowed walls
And rusty water
Warm enough to stain
Unlucky bathing suits.
(The smell's enough to force
The bather to the bath as medicine....)
On my way to other places
I have stopped along the road
To meditate beside the old stone bull...
I understand, a little,
Now that I am growing old,
Tobacco offerings left
Beside the sleeping stone.
Though not a Pagan,
I can feel the distant Ways
Before our Western ways
Made tourists of us all.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 10:43 AM UTC
I wept as I walked down the aisle
My heart was throbbing in severe pain
A bouquet of roses in my shivering hands
I felt like a zombie in a wedding dress
My dad, dashing in tuxedo
Smiling proudly as he gave my hand
To this total stranger...
A wealthy entrepreneur ...
His type of son in law
Very little information that I knew about
Marriage was not something that i planned
Marriage was something that arranged in my culture
My So called Happiness was set before me
Just needed me to say I Do
Love marriage is something impossible
Falling in love?
Yet another taboo
I cried oh I cried
I wanted to see the world
I have so much to do
Places to visit
People to meet
Happiness is what I sought for
On my own
Yes the diamond ring
i was tempted to wear
Wasn't so sure should
I tie the knot.
Should i travel the universe
I hated what I did
But I was not regretting either
Sorry daddy
What a big disappointment
today...
Once again...
I had to be a runaway bride...
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 12:56 PM UTC
Two blocks up , I am in a different country
Land Rover solves the dodgy directions
The movie bar in Calacoto feels like home
Wood fire outside smoky smoking area
Drink fuels the inside outside conversation
An almost Irish pub mix of entrepreneur and
Adventurer and lawyer and endless talk
Between pizza and passion is the fire of love
Four hours to wake up call ends the night
As midnight curfew calls the others home.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
Georgiana Seymour,
Duchess of Somerset
crowned _'Queen of Beauty'_
at the 1839 Eglinton
Tournament, the first known
beauty pageant;
W
European festivals dating to the medieval era
provide the most direct lineage for beauty pageants.
For example, English May Day celebrations always
involved the selection of a May Queen.
In the United States, the May Day tradition
of selecting a woman to serve as a symbol
of bounty and community ideals continued,
as young beautiful women participated
in public celebrations; such as the beauty pageant
held during the Eglinton Tournament of 1839,
organized by Archibald Montgomerie, 13th Earl of Eglinton,
as part of a re-enactment of a medieval joust
that was held in Scotland; the pageant was won
by Georgiana Seymour, Duchess of Somerset,
wife of Edward Seymour, 12th Duke of Somerset,
and sister of Caroline Norton;
Georgiana proclaimed _"Queen of Beauty"_;
Entrepreneur Phineas Taylor Barnum staged
the first modern American pageant in 1854,
his beauty contest closed down after public protest;
However beauty contests became popular
in the 1880s; In 1888 the title of _'beauty queen'_
was awarded to an 18-year-old Creole contestant
at a pageant in Spa, Belgium. All participants
had to supply a photograph & a short description
of themselves to be eligible to enter; a final selection
of 21 judged by a formal panel.
Such events were not regarded as respectable;
But beauty contests came to be considered more
respectable with the first modern _"Miss America"_
contest held in 1921;
Still the oldest pageant in operation,
the Miss America pageant was organized
in 1921 by a local businessman as a means
to entice tourists to Atlantic City, New Jersey;
The pageant hosted the winners of local
newspaper beauty contests in the
_Inter-City Beauty Contest_ & was attended
by over one hundred thousand people;
_Sixteen-year-old Margaret Gorman of Washington, D.C.
was crowned Miss America 1921, having won both the
popularity and beauty contests, and was awarded $100_
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 10:04 AM UTC
i given nothing
i abandoned
i adopted
i dropout
i garage
i Apple
i NeXT
i Pixar
i Apple
i pilfered i
i invented i
i produced i
i market i
i retail i
i am i
i am
i
i tech beauty
i consumer fetish
i whom you love
i sleekest widgets
i Toy Story
i Macintosh
i macbook
i Lisa
iTunes
iPod
iPhone
iPad
i more
i rebel
i genius
i visionary
i entrepreneur
i world changer
i exceptionalism
i capital market hero
i bigger then business
i cool capitalism
i myth
i "the man"
i worker
i employer
i boss
i thief
i savior
i billionaire
i venerated
i vanity
i Buddhist
i prophet
i redeemed
i 1 in 300 million
i America
i sing the pathos
i am the creed
i define the ethos
i Steve Jobs
i amassed riches
i accolade crowned
i ingratiate world
i virtue
i success
i creativity
i favored
i Midas
i bedeviled
i tested
i afflicted
i retire
i human
i mortal
i succumb
i eulogized
i leave legacy of i
i am an MBA case study
i employed workers
i peddled intrepid product cycles
i subject of amusing anecdotes
i am heroic corporate folklore
i grew pods full of music
i incite kids to thumb phones
i captivate consumer imagination
i built rock solid balance sheet
i erected toxic Chinese factories
i enriched investors
i am the cool corporate brand
i inspired a million unused i apps
i hipster capitalism
i imposed my will
i insisted
i am that i am
i cannot take it with me
i leave blue jeans
i leave NB sneakers
i leave black collarless shirt
i will be asked what
i did with the time
i was given?
i did the best i could
i played the hand dealt
i parlayed it into a royal flush
i filled it up with i
i ask why
i am no more?
i leave the world
i am no more
Godspeed Beloved
Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs
(February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011)
jbm
Oakland
10/6/11
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
At the risk of sounding sexist
I’d like to pay my highest respects today
to the girl at my accountant’s
with the beautiful *******
Usually the only things that jiggle there
are the numbers on the ledger,
but today a couple of numbers
stuck out for me to admire.
She knew it all added up spectacularly well
as she bent down obligingly
and pointed out where I should sign
and showed me what I needed to see.
She knew and I knew that
capital gains and expenses
were comparatively insignificant here.
Saucy insouciance was the obvious upside.
Of course, I shouldn’t have noticed,
but then I'm afraid that's what happens
when you’re more
of a ******
than an entrepreneur.
Mike T Minehan
Aug 17, 2018
Aug 17, 2018 at 8:43 PM UTC
Magical cauldron apomixes connoisseur
Cephalic phantasmagoria entity obliquitous
Mystical conjurous conjugal entrepreneur
Fantasia fantastication phantasm obsequious
Amorously arduous ardent raconteur
Ephemeral translucent opulence ubiquitous
Vanity sanctimonium temerities saboteur
Intrepid verve’s intriguingly iniquitous
Sorcerous sabbatness apothegms chauffeur
Endemic veracities fortuitous elicitous
Futurity fatidic's fornication kithe
Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts
Empirical emulation scenarios blithe
Subjunctive subliminal nostalgias haunts
Agile articulation acuities lithe
Analogizing corroborative prolificacy daunts
Alacritous tactile manipulations writhe
Numinous syntactical paradigm *****
Emanate imminent perdition tithe
Orotund jaded seal ordinand jaunts
Overt convection coercions chiaroscuro tempestuous
Apex crux axis ****** matrix torrid
Manifest objectified enamorous interstice lecherous
Spurt binge spree ***** protuberance squalid
endearingly engendering amore
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
Numerous number systems beyond the real:
complex numbers, octonions, omnions which can eat whole black
holes.
It's axiomatic that your personal history, preferences, how you feel
account for nothing at all.
$30 buys a flock of chickens for a needy family (International Rescue
Committee)
$29 gets a girl a school uniform (CARE), for $300 you can stock a fish
pond (Heifer International)
$69 can start a female entrepreneur in the sewing business (Mercy
Corps)
$5 will buy a bed net that protects a family from mosquitoes (Against
Malaria)
20th century experiments demonstrated that electrical charge is
quantized; that is, it comes in
multiples of individual small units called the elementary charge, e,
approximately equal to 1.602
x 10-19 coulombs (except for particles called quarks which have
charges that are multiples of
1/3e).
Why has the experimentalism of the avant-garde, which has failed in
the novel, succeeded in
poetry? Because poetry is always experimental; while the novel, on
the contrary, by its nature,
cannot be . . . which is to say that experimentalism is synonymous
with poetry, and that applied
to the novel, it leads simply to the substitution of the novel with
poetry. --Alberto Moravia
Man made the town, Fibonacci inflated zero to be the wheel
around which the universe turns and language is the soul
walking and talking quietly or going angrily to war.
"Counting is in its very essence magical, if any human practice is at all.
For numbers are things no one has ever seen or heard or touched."
As are words.
Joan Didion thought the scariest stanza in all of poetry
begins Row, row, row your boat gently
down the stream. The elements, the material penumbra,
irresolvable for the mortal, readily dissolve in words and numbers.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:08 PM UTC
Companies have established low wages
I haven’t seen anything like this since my ages
Hourly rates are at an all time low
The economy with no acceleration is moving ever so slow
Rents are so high
People are wondering if they will ever survive
It’s like a sting from a beehive
However, the word Permanent is now called Temp
The cost of living simply went
Yet how are people suppose to survive
A new wave with good news has come to shore
It’s called “Entrepreneur” for you to explore
People need a new plan being their own Entrepreneur
But it takes time to establish
Once your Entrepreneur business is up and running
Now you will need a Dynamic Advertising Campaign that will be stunning
People need to know who you are with your business
Don’t forget the business cards
Once again, it takes time in getting the business on its way
But don’t stall nor delay
Kiss the Corporate world goodbye
Now give Entrepreneur a try
Corporate compensation low
Today it is Entrepreneur being the flow
Corporate world continues too have their own agenda
Welcome to Entrepreneur for you to enter
So worry no more
Be your own Boss for sure
Entrepreneur is knocking for you to explore
If Entrepreneur was something you always wanted to do, don’t put off and just pursue
Corporate world salaries just don’t fit
It’s time for a Corporate quit and let Entrepreneur be it.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
Horatio Alger is whispering his stories in my sleeping ear
painting me as a lowly street urchin
who conquers adversities and moral wildernesses
with only my wit, determination, and guts
and he is painting me as a phoenix of the new world
rising from ashes of banality and
the naturalized familial trappings of my past
a dirt road in the socioeconomic desert
carved out with care by the hands of forefathers I will never know
but Mr. Alger died a long while ago
and the sun inevitably rises
shattering the stained glass story of my rags turned riches
now the big men upstairs
jot me down as numbers on a chart
of consumption trends of millennials
Go to college
they say
make something of yourself
they say
you are all too entitled
they say
What went wrong
they say without a hint of contradiction
I am not equipped to say if the story of humanity
is a cycle or a downwards spiral
I am not equipped to say
that it is the job of every generation
to ensure that they clear the debris
from the path of their progeny
but I say it anyway
everybody want’s a trophy
because we were raised to believe that
everybody deserves a trophy
In the same breath they expect us
to take the puritanical mantle of the breadwinner
the frayed saddle of the noble western outlaw
the lethally honed sword of the entrepreneur
the martyr making cross of the socially conscious family man
and then wonder why we so willingly
give ourselves over to the currents
of apathy and passivity and masochistic narcissism
giving us guns and bullets with no idea how to shoot them
so instead we turn them into sculptures of modern art
and scream to the empty heavens
for just a hint of recognition
I can’t decide if history will forget us
or memorize the lyrics of our collective heart beats
but I have decided
to wake up from my American Dream
have decided
to forge my own reality
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
When my body turns to dust,
I want the earth to know it.
My knees will filter sunlight,
sparkling shards of broken glass
to feed the turned, fallen leaves.
From my hands will rise a steam,
lost from ghosts of wilted dahlias
and pulling beads from snail shells.
Softening footsteps in numbing silence,
my scalp will take root in boulders:
a lichen stretched anew.
The crunch of my nails will lilt,
a filling sound which bleeds the heart.
My heart, itself, a rotten composition
(spoiled as tender and cloying fruits)
will slip through Her fingers,
drench Her purpose in richness,
and swallow my searing in depth.
My skin, taken first as appetizer,
breeds microcosms of tiny dancers
and will never forget that feeling.
Collapsed and empty, one lung and the other
will cease to feed themselves,
twisting from entrepreneur to altruist.
Other sundry organs, bones, hair and ligaments:
a donation of retribution,
payment for what was stolen,
recompense for an unforgivable abuse.
It is all I have, and it will be everything.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 1:55 PM UTC
Big souls come in little packages.
If she's 50 kg then I'm the pope.
An elfin looking Buddhist,
mother, entrepreneur, musician,
and a total goddess of class.
Our eyes met, essences shared,
hearts touched.
She"s ready, I'm not.
******
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
There is an abundance of knowledge
That I’ve grown to know about life,
Such as how some green teas,
Brew at a temperature of one hundred and fifty degrees,
Or the way that hues of paint,
Swirl upon a canvas to appear delicate and quaint.
And lastly how my friendships are like little lights,
Illuminating the darkest corners of my life, bright,
And though my brain holds knowledge of,
All that I have mentioned above,
That that I knew not outweighs that of which I do,
Such as the way I feel about you,
Or how the hours spent with you feel so few,
And how every moment spent brings something wonderful and new,
I never knew.
I never knew love,
That my heart could race so fast,
To the melody of the piano instrumentals we listened to last,
Or that I would love the way your fingers run through my hair,
Or how you hold my hand and kiss my fingers tenderly with care,
I did not know.
I did not know love,
That the aroma of Amazni tea
Would bring countless thoughts of you and me,
And that butterflies to my surprise,
Would flutter within every time I’m gazing in your eyes,
Perhaps it is the way you say the word Chicago,
Or you have an appreciation for flakes of snow,
Maybe it’s the way you draw invisible lines on my skin,
I hope you know that this feeling makes me feel beautiful within,
And though I know of this now,
I did not know,
I did not know love,
That I had been waiting twenty five days shy of seven thousand-three hundred and seventy four,
To meet the one who would make me feel something I’ve never felt before.
He who understands of my fears,
And is comforting when I’m at the point of tears,
Maybe it is his entrepreneur set mind,
Or the way our fingers are entwined,
Maybe it is the way we write our own poetry with our mouths,
Or the way we are both not from the South.
It could be any of these,
But I do know that,
I do know love that,
I’ve learned much during these thirty one days,
And as I waltz and frolic through this endless maze,
The only thought I have of which is meaningful,
(Is this)
“I did not know that love could be this beautiful.“
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
Calling the two blocks
of brick shantys
a “neighborhood”
is like calling Chris Columbus
an entrepreneur.
Columbus had three wooden pontoon boats
& a palace in the new world.
My students have Columbus’ outhouses.
I don’t even enjoy walking through
there anymore. It’s not a stroll in the park.
There’s only so much imperialistic **** you
can step in and wipe away
before you
start to track it in your
house.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
Don’t quit a book until you’ve read the first 50 pages
Because she is not a ****
Rather an opportunist
And she is not easy…
Rather extremely open
And lastly, she is not a *****
Rather a budding entrepreneur
Life is about perspective.
Reserve judgment until the end of the book
Because page 51 just might change your life.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
'Poetry is for emos!'
screamed a prosaic once
Don't worry,
he's dead now
I shot him with my gun
which is made from words
'Poetry is for the beautiful minds'
Someone once said
'No, silly! Poetry is for the scarred soul'
replied a maiden
'Poetry is for people like me!'
screamed Mr.R
'No happiness but chests filled with money!'
'Poetry is my hobby.'
said a future entrepreneur
'Poetry is for the one dealing with loss'
said the scientist
'I don't care about poetry, How often do you floss?'
said my dentist.
'Poetry is dumb.'
said the misanthrope
'Poetry makes me think about him'
said the victim of infatuation
I cleared my throat and spoke to clear the confusion
'*You're wrong to say poetry ain't fun
poetry is for everyone*'
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
I am a man of integrity
A being of values
A man of chances
A risk taker
A people's person
The weak's solicitor
A man of great morals
A said adonis
The emir of greatness
I am a good people
Rhythm of the redeemers
A daring entrepreneur
And after alls said and done
Despite all odds
I AM ME!!!
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 3:20 AM UTC
He plunged his hand in the half-fitted
electrical socket, absorbing electrons
and sluicing them through to his core.
A recreation fit for a man of no station.
The nightmare of homelessness’ prospect,
the jarring from entrepreneur to beggar
was not a loosely whispered theme
but the pocket-guarding we recognize,
whose opening threatens to spill
more than simple vanity.
His watched as his insides tumbled
into the street, broken beans of pride
nestled between the acid
and the hernia he gave himself
coughing out the last of his security
amongst the well-wishers
attempting to shield themselves from his need.
Discomfiture had not yet defecated itself
through his seams and the letters and links
he sent out as a man trying to hold a lifeboat
without the fervor of clinging hands.
The ache to survive not a desperate one,
desperation having kicked itself out
over the politeness of circumstances
that called for something else.
Turning back into himself, he *****
his fingers as he pulls himself out
of the electrical socket, and walks to pick up
his innards on the street where they lay,
his pride now a forgotten thing
like the pocket-guarded slacks
with the loose seams.
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 6:41 PM UTC
Surmounting expectations create competition with me and my companions.
People now bumping into each other from exponential expansion.
Existential Conundrum.
It happens.
You have to get a job, be better than everyone else.
You gotta get rich, but donate and be "selfless". Be an entrepreneur with millions that saves dolphins, bungee off the Eiffel Tower with the Prime Minister of Ireland.
Can't help but feel like we were born in a sandbox with too much expected from us, with such little, never promised rewards.
Cardboard presentations with glitter and glue, high scores on the whiteboard.
"Mom, please... I'm bored."
A Mr. or Mrs. Perfect, immune to hangovers and pressure, while keeping a 4.0 who must always be "in the moment", in full control.
Yeah, right. Maybe with a rich football coach who lets you smoke and dope if you run a ball and don't choke... Pray you don't grow old and dash his championship goal.
So when I feel my life is diminutive, worthless with no conviction, I just tell myself that I helped people I never remembered or knew. Nobody really has a clue with all this media, race and religion. Whether you think it's science, fact, or fiction, It's just a temporary illusion of your imagination.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC