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Mellow Ds Feb 2011
There is no snow, a left turn is a careening roll
7, 8, 9 times, all along the road
Until the carriage turns over and makes us again feel whole
We count the moments that it stays, before it encrypts code
Juxtapose, lizards and rats, seagulls and bats
The underlying message is psychological attack
And when she opened up her mouth she let out a hack
So devastating and depressing that she turned and spat

These old bones and these old dreams are a glimpse of what's passed
And though the skies are turning gray, the blues, in mind, will last
A silver lining is a metaphor, it's never really been
A line designed to separate the sadness from the sin
My friends tell me I am a crosswalk between truth and hate
But in the end the truth is those who despise can relate
Detesting the human race is something worth the time
That's taken to reflect on my stubborn, fizzled mind

A shotgun is all we need to see the light of day
And one bullet is all it takes for them to steal it away
So grab your jewelry and your cash and clip them to your vest
Because your family wants to know the score when you lay to rest
Faultless isn't really a word, thoughtless is a theology
You say spell cat, I say spell Keynesian economy
Aristotle spent years trying to prove epistemology
Existentialism wiped him out with one written dichotomy.

Waiting for my ride to get to the drop of dreams
And when I take just enough I will be caught up in screams
The world around is shaking violently and everything gleams
And the golden from the sunshine on the buildings are my streams
I want to lie in branches made of paper and long legs
Keeping our eyes open, we're all stepping over eggs
Is it any wonder why my strife and struggles bleed?
A warm body and an acid bath are all I truly need.
(c) Ryan Bowdish 2010-2011
Zinjanthropus Apr 2021
Gimme some sardined rice
Sorry— that's the price?
Do you then have mice on ice?
Its price?
Thrice a sardined rice per slice!
Jesus Chris— thrice?
Okay, get me three slices of mice on ice
No freaking flies, no lice
On my mice, just ice...
Nice!

Zinjanthropus
To give you the context...the persona of the poem is at a ‘fast food’ store's counter.
The history of fiat
Is chock full of breaches
Of centralized power
That pushes and reaches

Debasing our money
The looters and leeches
Gaslighting people
With Keynesian speeches

Where is our money
In fractional banks?
They lend out in bubbles
And give us no thanks

Restricting our freedoms
With raw overreaches
Yes, the history of fiat
Is brimming with breaches

But now we have freedom
From theft and abuse
A better money in Bitcoin
And the power to choose
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery072FullOfBreaches.html
Inspired by this quote from Satoshi
The central bank must be trusted not to debase the currency, but the history of fiat currencies is full of breaches of that trust. Banks must be trusted to hold our money and transfer it electronically, but they lend it out in waves of credit bubbles with barely a fraction in reserve.

Satoshi Nakamoto
Question: What has Bitcoin done for Humanity?
Answer: Bitcoin has helped millions of people to:

Move money safely
Across country borders
Or keep money private
Through seizure orders

Avoid the debasement
Of all of their savings
As inflation abounds
Amidst Keynesian ravings

Transfer remittances
To countries abroad
Without the high fees
That border on fraud

Own their own money
For millions the “first time”
Generations unbanked
This is truly a crime

Trade with anyone
Across land or ‘cross sea
With no “middle man”
Who might disagree

Enjoy some privacy
A basic human right
As foundational freedoms
Tyrants try to rewrite

So here you go Jim
This is just a small list
Of what Bitcoin’s done
And you simply dismissed
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery089BitcoinForHumanity.html.  Question comes from Jim Cramer - an investor.
Paco Lypps Aug 2020
I'm quitting my Job
Show the Boom it can be done
Sacrifice myself
Before I'd let them touch my Sun
Living fore ones progeny
Is unsung as evolution
Middle age confusion
After all naught the solution
Leading to regression
Quantitative are infusions
Curing our depression
Backfilling such sought delusion
Thousand cuts
Keynesian contusions
In a rut
Cohesion our fusion

— The End —