"monetarily" poems
The Revolution will not be pay-per-view,
Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide,
The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR
Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve
The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized,
the Revolution will be patronized
Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes
The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for
CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram
The Revolution is more than digital trolling,
It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse
Do you have your passport for the Revolution?
The Revolution is unauthorized
Written for and by all the people
The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly
Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee,
The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure
For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure
Revolution 99% Uploaded
Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action
~
NM 10/17/15
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Read, watched, Listened for snippets
Wore the buttons,
Devoured anything…
Apartheid
Had my own personal
Bedroom Revolution...
Jumped high…In place… with the best of them
Little balled up fists…
Pumping…
Chanted the chants
Sang the song
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
Freeee-ee Nelson Mandelaaaa
And I meant it!
Oh My God I meant it from my
young revolutionary soul
Cried adolescent girl cries
For our South African brothers and sisters
All of the martyrs
Known and unknown
STOP APARTHIED!
STOP APARTHIED!
Free Nelson Mandela!!
To this very day
I love me some Nelson Mandela
Love the man he is
Mourn the man he was
Big Fine Educated Pugilistic
African
Man
Passionate
Compassionate
On that serious mission
Who, though technically still breathing upon his release, in reality
Gave his life
To promote the cessation of
An idea more merciless even than the Rwandan genocide
In that Death
Seldom came quickly
A system more sadistic even than the African Slave Trade
In that it was not based economically
Therefore ALL the
“Kaffers”
Could be maimed or die
And it wouldn’t cost a thing…
Monetarily speaking
A society wherein
Each Black death
Someone’s Job… or
Someone’s Entertainment
Every atrocity’s purpose to serve only to
Douse fuel on the already
Brightly burning fire of
Hate and torture and hate
I love Nelson Mandela
For making like David
And having the *****
To take on the Goliath
Apartheid
Satan is creative
His minions resourceful
We will never know the indignities;
Can only imagine the violations
My Nelson was forced to endure
Imprisoned for 27 years
I love
Nelson Mandela
For having the strength
To keep living
When so many others couldn’t
Still able to put
One
In front of
The other
Albeit gingerly
But still locomoting
Out of hell
On his own two feet…
That alone makes him a hero
To me
In my heart he will always be
The
Big
Fine
Educated
Pugilistic
Passionate
Compassionate
Hero
That the young revolutionary in me
sings about…
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
What is this, this incessant need to help?
Why must I help everyone whos path I cross?
Be it emotional or physical, monetarily or otherwise.
I have to help but want none when I need it.
I can handle whatever baggage is placed upon my shoulders,
but I cannot seems to handle my own
and im being crushed under the wait.
What is this paradox that I'm in?
How do I stop this ride from spinning so fast?
Its making me sick but I dont want to get off.
How is it that I can handle everyones burdens?
I can help you, If you'll let me.
I'll carry that for you if youd like me too.
I'll walk that line if you need it.
I can be that person for you. I can whatever you need me to be
I can handle it cause I have to, cause I want to, cause I need to.
I wish I knew why I dont want anyone to help me
I just know I feel free of the emotions that seem to plague others.
So I guess I need to feel them through everyone else.
Love, Joy, Pain, Hate. I feel these
Sadness, Misery, Suffering. I feel these
Kindness, Caring, Empathy. I feel these
Hope, Passion, Trust. I feel these
I feel emotion I am just not controlled by them,
I rule them not they rule me.
I can not not help someone but I dont want help when I need it.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 4:07 PM UTC
Take heed, falter not
Your time is currency,
Tied ineffaceably
To the heart rate of
Your Fiscal Policy.
Spent but once,
Priceless
-
A
Beat,
Irretrievable.
“Spend your time wisely"
Advised are we
But time invested
With
Family,
Often
Face-value perceived,
Too steep a price paid
When
Quantified
Monetarily.
Such an idea of a lie,
So psyche ingrained.
Dire submission
of modern humanity
Ever so
Intrinsically sealed
We even
Concede;
“These moments are stolen”
&
our time considered;
“...too precious”
© Qwey.ku
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
To me
more than just a vessel to the afterlife
but it might just be
I build my pyramid on the carpet
4x3
One by three by five by seven
So on and so forth
Above all this pyramid has the power
to change my life
Monetarily
Immortality
or
most importantly
for myself
right
here
(The Heart)
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
shifting focus
bended light
altered reality
as the present becomes redefined
creating substantial ripples
in an otherwise still pond –
reflections warp
running water distorts
landscapes shift with the wind
all those truths, so concrete
crumble in the glow of different information –
worthiness and self-importance
replace doubt and loathing
as the realization of acceptance
flood the low laying regions
torment of the torrential
pouring over the stained past
washing clean skin marred
by a lifetime of reclusively existing –
together and forward thinking
we sit, future planning
dividing the years ahead
into blocks of success
setting and achieving both
short and long term goals
for the creation of the future we choose
just like in all the magazines
and self-help seminars –
gasping for air in an undercurrent of responsibility
holding tight the notions of poor
or low-class monetarily
the struggle to break free is real
when one attempts to circumvent their station
and be more
do more
life better
in an age of classism and
social warfare –
we sit atop the madness
hand in hand
looking over the extremes
presented and normalcy
catching each other’s eye
a smile crosses lips in tune
knowingly, we plunge into home ownership
manning the torpedoes,
we move full steam ahead—
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
reconnected images
toes in rich soil
toiling under the yoke
spatially
fleeting fancy of freedom
fades
pages turn
returning me to the ground
I roamed as a child –
forgotten foothills
beacon
as property brokering
binds me to the earth
monetarily
owning my homeland
by the acreage –
white privilege escapist
seeking grid-less domain
sustainability with a suntan
in the cool Oregon rain
draining the infrastructure
through government backed loans
forever indebted
as the backs of my fellow countrymen
are buying my dream in America –
wrecked inspectors trek Tibet
for the almighty dolla dolla bill ya’ll
signing off on trash
commission driven misgivings
serving up dry rot and mold spots
on a flooded lot
I shield myself against the tide of ********
seeking information
in the age
namesake
heartbroken realtors
dot the horizon
holding contractual obligation
waving it frantically
begging –
seeking perfection
sneaking suspect-tion
any direction
needing contraception
fleeting misconception
leading to direct loans
hearing the same groans
as she is reading the next home
listing……..
throwing fists into the air
I swear
if I didn’t care so much
to handle the deed
I would rent
for
life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
I have quite a simple request, I believe
I just seek the slightest of reassurance
With the smallest amount of attention that could be given
I do not desire much
Not temporally, not monetarily
I simply wish for the bare minimum
The very smallest amount
I would be more than willing for it
I would take the smallest amount of attention
A mere decimal of your precious time
I wouldn't complain
I wouldn't argue
I wouldn't do anything beyond show gratitude....
It is clear that the bare minimum is simply too much to ask
So why won't you just tell me this?
Why do you promise "always"
When the actions yield a "sometimes"
Why do you dream of mountains but stay on the molehills?
Why do you act as though your world is coming to an end, when it has only just begun?
Why do you hide away in your abode, cooped up with your electronic plaything
The stupid, minuscule electric computers
That are running our lives, and our communication skills into the ground
And why do you tell me to trust what cannot be trusted?
Why do you forgo honesty; because you
Wish not to hurt my feelings?
The disconnect hurts much more than any truth ever could
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
In a distance I see a glow.
I can't escape the shine,
It almost feels like it's mine.
So much greenery that I feel serenity.
You see the best green as money,
I see the best green as the grass and trees.
One monetarily makes you happy
The other can always bring you joy.
Years of growth.
Showing you it is possible to be beautiful
Naturally.
Artificial beauty fades like ink on a paper.
It just blows in the wind,
To never be seen again.
Stand tall and don't give in to the wind
Is all the trees tell me.
Life can be beautiful and full of life.
Obvious yet some live and have no life,
Not reaching their full potential.
They die lifeless.
I choose to live life beautifully and loudly,
Like the grass and trees.
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:58 PM UTC
Heavy was the globe, until the glove hit
Found himself entangled in a handlebar flip
Iron in the taste, ****** waste
Continuum drawn back on a meaningless quip
Unsteady footing reminiscent of preschool days, snorting paste
Zebra striped mockery, paid off the books; his vision’s been maced
Early end to prolonged exposure, he tries to bait
Steady eyed denial approaches with haste
The monetarily gorged rule keeper entangles in debate
Opponent grows weary appearing irate
He recalls the words in a blank cheque written by a weak frame
A levelling blow leaves his opponent in a blank state
World weary and star struck to blame
All in pursuit of everlasting fame
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 3:32 AM UTC
Appetizing morsels of snack food leftovers, jammed down the throats of the gathering’s well-meaning occupants, trapped in place, paralyzed by purchasing power, co-mingling amongst a gossamer of plague ridden staff, exercising their right to a paltry sum, at the cost of worldly dignity.
Tupperware auctioned off at a silent word, while women with crow’s feet crevices compile layers of expensive, foundry concealer, birthing a new, more melancholic Pagliacci, only to be outdone by the next in line.
Sound equipment, purchased over market value, placed on the showroom floor, mechanically regurgitating a playlist of old hits as broken hips slaughter the concept of rhythm and cadence, dancing for their youth, embarrassed by their age.
Late husband’s life insurance, blown on a new make-up line tested on Lassie, bought for the sake of a cost-free gift, which would have the woman’s palm eaten out by a monetarily starved charlatan, rented out on an hourly basis.
Sprayed odors, mixing and merging as they meet on the undersides of veiny wrists, fumigating the stale air, weakening the legs of the participants, dropping them to the floor as sequenced lights illuminate in time with an ancient billboard tune.
Eight o’clock bedtime, difficult to impose, when giddy patrons stay drunk on the bliss of over-spending, knocking off to a land of nod in unmonitored broom closets, clutching at their purchases with the vigor of a lowly man in pursuit of his bottle.
The night slows, crawling in turn with a dead clock as it ticks in place, stalemated, flinching, but not forward, only in place.
Lights leave the room, and silence ensues, the visitors leave, weighted down to a lifeless crawl by their numerous, unnecessary purchases in overfilled, non-recyclable shopping bags.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
finding myself struggling with twenty-seven years
the magic number until I can retire
seems a thousand lifetimes away
and how will I ever stay in one place that long…
for near forty years’ worth of days
I have floundered between part-time
and joblessness… some of it as a ******
some as a young adult trying to find my way…
pondering solvency, monetarily
I consider my real options:
theft leads to jail
hard work leads to hard work
401k’s and retirement planning
are often stolen by the greed of the 1%-ers
bailout for the monopoly kings…
where is my bailout for living in America for this long?
who has been diligently investing in my trust fund?
why is this what ‘making it’ looks like?
answerless questions lay piled on the floor
some hurriedly jotted on napkins
others tattooed on my forehead
none ripe or ready…
I know I can keep on keeping on
I hustled ****** for ten years
….but I want it to be easier
I desire to bathe in bling
and throw hundreds out the window
yelling about how much I don’t give a ****
….but for now, I will just get up to my alarm
wash my face and hands
and play slave to the machine one more day
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Monetarily I am okay,
Physically I am defeated
Mentally I am doing my best.
3/6/2021
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 7:32 AM UTC
Days Of Distraction: The List
What can they be?
They seem to go on endlessly.
Helping out a friend in need;
Finding ways to heed the need(s)
Of several needy friends in need.
Ignoring things that might be done,
Might be some fun
And useful monetarily.
Ignoring requisites of I, myself and me.
Structure: that’s one key.
Thinking practically; harmony.
Priority to me, myself and I.
Life is simple.
Roof, warmth, food -
Summed up sample of the simple,
Which gives ample time
To carry out the other,
'Other' meaning tools which further
Happiness and satisfaction.
Paying bills and buying,
Days of duty and temptation;
Stress and tension:
‘Stressed out’ grown to idiom.
What to do about this ‘dream’,
For dream it is.
This is a list and not a scheme;
Not a plan nor stratagem.
Read and think, find out!
The answer lies in nought but thee.
(That’s you and me).
You’ll see
what works.*
Days Of Distraction 10.21.2017
Definitely Didactic; I Is Always You Is Me;
Arlene Corwin
*Chatted with my 'English rose' of a daughter (raised in Oxford, England now residing in Oregon, USA.) who complained of distractions which keep her from other, perhaps more practical or and/or rewarding things. It inspired these little reflections.
It will go into my collections: Definitely Didactic and I Is Always We Is You. By the way, my 16th book Birth, Death & In Between II went into publication today!
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 8:10 AM UTC
When with more than enough,
You're capable of giving someone else enough,
Fighting poverty isn't all about pushing the UN to act,
When in fact,
You may be capable.
If not monetarily able,
The least we can do is appreciate what we have and pray for the unstable,
Prayer misses no point,
It makes connections even where there seems to be no possible joint.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
and that was when i realized
staring into my own eyes
my identity unrecognized
that all it was was broken ties
failed academically
failed monetarily
make the one person i love
feel like picking up the gun
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
Just editing my next book "Definitely Didactic" and thought I'd share this.
Days Of Distraction: The List
What can they be?
They seem to go on endlessly.
Helping out a friend in need;
Finding ways to heed the need(s)
Of several needy friends in need.
Ignoring things that might be done,
Might be some fun
And useful monetarily.
Ignoring requisites of I, myself and me.
Structure: that’s one key.
Thinking practically; harmony.
Priority to me, myself and I.
Life is simple.
Roof, warmth, food -
Summed up sample of the simple,
Which gives ample time
To carry out the other,
'Other' meaning tools which further
Happiness and satisfaction.
Paying bills and buying,
Days of duty and temptation;
Stress and tension:
‘Stressed out’ grown to idiom.
What to do about this ‘dream’,
For dream it is.
This is a list and not a scheme;
Not a plan nor stratagem.
Read and think, find out!
The answer lies in nought but thee.
(That’s you and me).
You’ll see
what works.*
Days Of Distraction 10.21.2017 Definitely Didactic; I Is Always You Is Me; Arlene Corwin
*Chatted with my 'English rose' of a daughter (raised in Oxford, England now residing in Oregon, USA.) who complained of distractions which keep her from other, perhaps more practical or and/or rewarding things. It inspired these little reflections.
It will go into my collections: Definitely Didactic and I Is Always We Is You. By the way, my 16th book Birth, Death & In Between II went into publication today!
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:04 AM UTC