"frugality" poems
My body wishes for nutrition,
but it does not know the meaning of frugality.
Only my mind knows the meaning, and keeps my body at bay.
My body will say,
"Feed me, feed me, feed me!",
but my mind's rejection will not falter,
for the Happiness of my love
makes the means to receive it without err.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 8:01 PM UTC
As if the it is not the leopard
That has forepaw herculean
In the game of hunting and preying,
With reservation the leopard eats
Saving for tomorrow with punctiliosity
In the wary of wisdom about plundering,
That is not all about physical mighty
Not shrewdness of the mind
Nor flexibility of the heels
But respect for frugality as a virtue of the strong.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
in my veins, these fiery flames, irritate like grains of forgotten names
call me insane, but at least I maintain composure and refrain from strangling myself deranged
even tho im convoluted, completely diluted and secluded from this polluted brainless blue ***
i can't shake these blunders of wonders that wake me from my slumbers and asunder like lightening after thunder
why is this society, full of variety, stuck on the wrong types of proprieties? to feed your satiety? to reach your notoriety?
continue to lie to me. stream the feed on live t.v. the glamour of no individuality. convincing there's something wrong with me.
straight faced frugality. absolutely no morality.
they feed on the weak. while they silently weep. "beauty doesn't come cheap, so take the leap! buy now and don't be unique!"
******* grotesque! I'd rather rip my heart outta my chest than ingest that wretched mess.
"beauty" is born not molded and formed from biohazard waste and paste. hows that plastic taste while you constantly baste your neighbors in hate.
I can't wait til the day you meet fate.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 6:34 AM UTC
Its about free love, its about frugality
Step on the bohemian bus, take a ride with me
Calling all artists, all musicians every writer
This is one journey,that's gonna be an all-nighter
The radicals, the cultured, its gonna be a ride
Don't need money, just yourself, so step inside
The bohemian bus parked down by the sea
We sit in the sunshine with a dram of whisky
Don't need no rules we need free understanding
Society is governed by a law somewhat demanding
Nouveau, gypsy, dandy, zen or beat
Whatever you are come join us on the street
Its our Rainbow gathering, bless mother earth
Bless one another, live life as it is worth...
Jul 21, 2010
Jul 21, 2010 at 5:48 AM UTC
Making The Right Choices With Your Money While You Are Alive
We think we'll live forever. Who among us will readily admit that they will ultimately die, without maintaining that secret hope that somehow, not me! How many people get swept away in there lust for money? Saving, calculating, weighing, balancing, adding, economizing, with frugality and ultimately for what. So they can amass this tremendous wealth that they won't be taking with them in the end anyway.
Sound advice, use you money wisely while you are still alive and with your full faculties intact. You can do much good with the money you have saved, while you are alive, that will bring you happiness even when you are long gone! Faith that the good you do will live on (in your merit). It's only a matter of faith. Perhaps a faith worthy to live by, as well as die for.
When we pass that final gate, there might not be any opportunities for a last chance. What we have accomplished in this world will be ours forever more. This my friend will ultimately, and truly, be our "final score."
**wealth not happiness
here today, gone tomorrow
with death, nothing left**
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:49 PM UTC
metromonic irregularities
of flawless infinity
particularized by lack of action
to create a participation in time
is the savage reprisal
of defiant elements
that challenge conspicuous masks
of isolated illusory expedient frugality
where there is an instistance on a fiction
of invented death without recognition
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 4:34 PM UTC
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue
The endless Sky, a canvas painted with molten sapphire
He frittered those diamonds with no trace of frugality
The never-ending cerulean Ocean, big as your heart's desire
She undulated life, corals and sea shells, with a trace of salinity
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue.
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue
She is his diurnal curtain, as he opens his eye from his sleep
He is her coiffeur, as he colors her entwined hair in a shade of serenity
She is his narcissistic cheval glass, reassuring him every moment
That his swaying eyes and his murky silver mane are intact.
He is her tepid blanket, gifting her his warmth and millions of lives.
She is his lullaby, swinging him to sleep, wobbling him into a trance.
Two shades of blue, two shades of blue.
Two shades of blue, Two shades of blue
He is her, and she is him
He collects her brimming elation and gifts it to the world
She takes his sorrow, swallows his tears, until he returns to normalcy
Two shades of blue, two shades of blue
A pair of hues that will always remain estranged,
Arising to vehement debates on his excessive height versus her unfathomable depth.
They aren't parallel lines which never touch each other,
They are converging lines that will always strive to meet,
Stretching each other with all its might,
Illimitable and endless they may be, but without each other
They will remain infinite fractions forever
Two shades of blue, two shades of blue.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
This simple sauce: twelve blueberries,
water, vanilla (no, I'm not going to tell
all my secrets!) was everything I have
learned about celebrating frugality.
A red-headed woman, my young mother,
shining elegantly at a cocktail party
in a dress made by her
own delicately beautiful,
strong hands.
One three dollar silk remnant,
purchased in a little shop full of
cardboard boxes, each bursting,
to overflowing with fabric, and
texture, and color, high up on
Upper Broadway, in 1961.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.
Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.
Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.
Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.
Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.
Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.
Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.
Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.
The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.
Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.
Its lovely here.
Laughing in the lashes.
Signing my entrapment's.
Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.
Sometimes
It just feels right to be alive.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Ambiguously, he was boggled, beguiled by garbled goggles while giggling out the squiggles, to wiggle the signals free.
Deliberately dallying in the Plato piety of proprietary philosophies, he, dastardly deemed, disaster to be, damaging, to the laughter in the chatter of the baggage handlers to another plane.
Manhandler of a plastered paradise, partly in slices, of silly little vices of sacrifices, that shall suffice with vice grips on the lips of the negative with the spices of nicety.
Lavished in lividly living uP the misgivings of lesserly lessons, blessing the blasphemy, in passionate tuck ins, snuck in, upon drunken hunkering in the bunkers of spunkier spiels.
Languid longevity's of luscious lettering, lest will we, count our kills, never ever to leave a life festering in lectured structuring, besting the busy debuts, of flukless frugality, lucidly, counting the calories of calamity, and randomly rhyming without reason in season-less rain clouds, only allowed to put the umbrella away, and fade in play to the part, where we impart patience on the persona from the coma of commonality.
Immaculately conceived, perceived as a ***** who adores hollow hearts, as we, haphazardly heap on the hilarity, in hepatidal waves, through fazes of the common wealth.
Smile in stealth, love no one else, but self and end up in health, at a lonely age in staged stimuli, reminding me why i'm alive, and not allowed to die, while on rewind through the hard times, to smile on the last lines of laser driven lifelines, laughing at the fragile signs on the finer wines, as they break on the bowes of holy boats in bouts against the sea.
Spewing randomly, he, finds satisfactory solutions to the strengthening of his constitution in loosened blue spells, to dispel his ruthless tendrils from your ears.
The fears fueling the finality in his fractured mentality of maniacal travesties laughing at me.
Its just me, unjustly adjusting for the combustion of the build.
Its lovely here.
Laughing in the lashes.
Signing my entrapment's.
Lapsing out the masses and forming from the ashes of smashed happiness, as it unclasps before my eyes.
Sometimes
It just feels right to be alive.
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
Why to try to be a way
When often it leads to decay
And radiation is steady
That I could be uranium
Maybe when I'm older
Maybe is I'm colder
Maybe if but bolder
Looking, sitting on my shoulder
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Mr Jones had the sum of five bucks
So he bought a coffee at Starbucks
Their lattes were inexpensively priced
So none of his meager dollars were sacrificed
He was a man who knew the value of cash
And never spent oodles from his stash
As he slurped the coffee down he did smile
For he'd saved a humongous money pile
He lived the life of a very frugal chap
And rarely emptied his finance's tap
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
Try to remember
that poetry chooses
the poet and if chosen,
beware, for she
can be a real *****
and will rarely provide
a cup of coffee
much less groceries.
Do not think poetry
or fiction will supply
a living, they won't.
Plan accordingly.
Make hard work
and frugality
your floorboards.
Stay rooted.
The coasts are
foreign countries.
America is in the middle.
Nebraska is real;
LA is certainly not.
Talk with poor people
wherever you go.
They know great stories
and because they know pain
laugh more often
than the comfortable.
Find some other work
to hold onto.
Lay brick or landscape.
Write complex software.
Anything physically
or mentally exhausting.
If you are foolish
enough to introduce
yourself as a writer,
ninety-nine percent
of the people you meet
will think you mad,
stupid or simply lazy.
Garrulity marks
the mediocre. Listen.
Keep your true love
separate and secret.
Keep at least one toe
in the natural world.
Fish, hunt, pick berries.
Avoid war and commerce.
Make your poems; craft them
like the things they are,
sparse and flinty,
made of nouns and verbs.
Adjectives and adverbs
are only spices; use only
the fewest and freshest.
Modifiers are poetic;
poetry is not.
Avoid irony like
the plague it is.
Say what you mean.
Do not be disappointed
by misreadings
and misunderstandings
for consciousness
can never be fully shared.
They gets it or they don't.
Drink if you must but
remember that alcohol
is the writer's version
of black lung disease.
It will end up swallowing you.
Mostly just do your art
and try to be kind.
You are just another
sentient being
babbling into the Void.
Modesty and humility
might save you
from the angry gods
but it's no sure thing.
Although you were chosen
for this you are responsible
for your own salvation
or destruction.
*How great is the darkness
in which we *****
Remember:
you can't step into
the same river,
not even once.
If this seems altogether
too much, consider
investment banking
before it is too late.
~mce
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
Preserve carefully your savings
Do not buy unnecessary things
You work hard to earn wages
Frugality only has advantages
Spend, but waste not earning
As it may lead to mourning
Give to others with true control
What you give be not the whole
For you, reserve a major portion
For God, some funds, apportion
Be ready to give merciful alms
As God's heart, it surely calms
Forget not poor souls' orphanage
Helping people with different age
Buy food for birds and creatures
To reduce their daily tortures
Making a reasonable donation
Will give to holy Angels elation
Be careful dear in your spending
So that agonies will be ending
No tree gives us money sir
So let your spending be fair
If money is carelessly spent
Poverty only will come to hunt.
mvvenkataraman
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TYPE mvvenkataraman IN URL
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:29 AM UTC
Money is a catastrophe
nothing but pure blasphemy.
People of the world
living in a state of atrophy.
Pardon all my apathy
for those who live too happily
but where are all the consequences
for their rude audacity?
We don’t need the pageantry
of all our fancy gadgetry.
Find it down in yourself
the reasons to dispatch of thee.
You want to sit and laugh at me
cause I live by frugality?
Money shouldn’t make us tick
and that’s the harsh reality.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
love drifts between you
and me like a musical sea
and civilisations thrift shamrocks
to hold us both close
trees are happy to pose
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 1:17 PM UTC
This is... well this is an awakening
the fifth step for all you flagrants out there
I realize a lot of things about myself, about my life
I'm a luckless *****
without the sickle or the sores
and I bleed for every moment that I get
and I drink for those I don't
Time
time is something I always had
yet couldn't put it in a bag
and sell it to the masses
so I spent it
frugality was something misunderstood
and we saw all we had fade away
money my new greed
a backwards creed for a backwards need
to be more than content
the tones and tapping of the fingers and well lets face it, Satan *****
I want metal, I want steel, I want rope burns
decadence
such a sly word for something you need
its not the *** its not the drugs
its the bugs and hugs
and the people you meet
so send me away make me more
mold me I'm yours
but this is a confession and not salvation
nothing I say here will ever matter
yet I'm writing for an audience
so believe me or not
but let me show you the brew
a dash of daring
a splash of liquid courage
an eye of lustlessness
that's all it takes for me and you
and these sheets
and a flower and a fleeting emotion
so I disappear
between a blink and a tear
and I wish you all a fond farewell..
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
Iris and Blanche,
retired West end Usherettes,
Joint treasurers to the benevolent society,
their own Christmas story flickers ,
fearing poverty, melted candles
for 6d - they buy the job lot,
worn, threadbare carpets cover the hallway.
Seemingly unmoved, they try to forget
this turn of fortune.
Upheaval is now the perpetual downturn.
They’ve availed themselves to
missing out on life's gravy train,
and been met with gas light frugality.
The sunken mattress tumbles across the wooden floor,
casting shadows over,
yesterday's hubris.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
**** the power in myself
Introspect; too much is left
Read the pain between the lines
Satan sleeps with me tonight
Teach me love frugality
Yellow fever spread by lips
Nip the bud, and shear me clean.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
In a poet’s world there’s no frugality with words. - Amitav
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
This is just another perspective
given form by conscious centrality, or
Perhaps I’m too introspective.
From young we learn to seek directive, and
to live with a certain frugality,
But this is just another perspective.
An unmoved pen is too corrective;
The hand hesitates for fear of banality;
Or perhaps I’m too introspective.
Life, as poetry, is connective;
Embrace the paradox of each duality; but
This is just another perspective.
I dream to love the imperfective,
Because we’re all an abnormality;
Perhaps I’m too introspective.
What if we stop trying to be corrective,
And instead embrace individuality?
This is just another perspective,
Or perhaps I’m too introspective.
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 2:23 PM UTC
Half of a mirror
I have a mirror in the hall it is cracked
two mirrors in one but prefer the left part
see an elderly face in peace with self
Not the peace of death, but of one who has lived well.
The right part is altogether different
A face old before its time
I'm not a Dorian Grey my sins is not of excesses,
but rather of frugality and perpetual boredom
A sour face that has absorbed every perceived slight
that oozes out through loathsome pores.
Too much to bear I will remove the right part and
keep the part that makes me looking friendly
even if it is not telling the whole truth which is
not needed now that truth is for the naïve
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 10:05 AM UTC
In the book of Genesis
Joseph, son of Jacob
Made a prophecy based on the pharaoh's dream
He determined there would be seven years of abundance
Followed by seven years of famine
Joseph told the pharaoh to stockpile resources
By taxing one fifth of his subjects' harvest every year
To prepare for the impending hardship
So that they may live and not die
And during that time of famine
Egypt remained powerful
Because of their divine foresight and communal mentality
But what I wonder about that process is:
During the abundance
Did the Egyptians complain about the new tax?
Did they say it was a tyrannical government overreaching?
And during the famine
Did they feed on the fruits of frugality
While remembering the contributions that saved their nation?
Apr 25, 2019
Apr 25, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
in Ali Ahkbars chariot rode
Iscariot to the ruins of
Rome
had ten gold pieces
in his hand
or twenty forget the rhymes
it's more important we change the
elegy the caricatures to fit modern modality
he met Julius who had not been born, still the story is better if,
and the Editors of the Bible know this , will edit it
lets say a real young Julius
with Cleopatra sultry and suave dressed in the best
designers of the time Togas
his power ascending
had no idea
the thumpers would thump
the Nazis would come he had Cleopatra's ***
on his mind
and say
history has been remembered ,
or not,
let's make haste of frugality
and really get down to the
gist of it,
brutality, fear of the unknown,
worship of gods we dont know exist.
If I were around then, who is to say I was not,
I'd slap Cleopatra on the *** pour wine down her throat
and watch Julius make an orange smoothie
out of Icarus or **** I forget , who he was.
Started with an I.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 4:47 AM UTC