"monetized" poems
So I'm looking at my city
In pity
Being lured by these celebrities
That don't give a **** bout thee
They only doing it
Because they were told
Them challenges growing old
I challenge them to put up a real price
But if they did it'll cost them their life
So back up unto my bayonet knife
You fools so trife
Thinking you got me fool
But your merely a tool
Them secret societies
Gotta keep eying thee
Cuz you'll never bite the hands
That feeds
Say it's from the heart
But behind closed doors Its really greed
Since we can't seem to stop the corruption
Know that hurricane Harvey was planned for abruption
Out the blue gas prices blew
At the time of a crisis
Now I bet they'll somehow
Link it to Isis
From the megachurch
To the where the hobos lurk
It was a disaster
But tell how they became sword masters
Words that is magic being done
And nobody seems stunned
Its all a game and we the pieces on the chess board
Controlled weather
To bring us together
Millions of homes damages
Only to find out
You got no flood insurance
Another way to pay
a tax
Willfully without a say
Then they say
The american peeps wanted it that way
And who are these people's
They them the ones who control
The spoils of the earth
Who put you in debt before your natural birth
Cursed a demonized monetized
Right before your eyes
Hopefully you'll realize
They visualize your capital lives
Wake up and read in between the lines
Because our souls are on the dotted lines
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 11:53 PM UTC
Emergent and forming I feel a storm is imploring that soon without any warning you beg to cross a line
Every time, nothing is sacred but sacramental complacence is marked as roles of the shameless
Mean to skip a line another time? Is this too rough and obtuse for a cutie like you to boost the power line?
Number 9, completion is power and stricken chords every hour proceed to timeline devour those daily entities
I do decree that opposition to me is free and withered beatings to meetings, detours and dealings
understanding demands of variable plans is held by the hand that feeds the depleted need
I see it from every angle, the tangle, the multishifted frame though it dangles, I can't be stuck in my own head when
I see the reflections of me in the treasure it jangles, brings into focus where my head fell to float in the
moments set to wrangle, pull it in, dwell upon the good and discard where it hampers new fangled notions like
truth effusions of love and devotion are swallowed up in the daily ocean of noise traffic, the more verbose,
Graphic dispatches matches blasted disasters dashed and rash past distractions amass magic attacks balanced
Secular motion entwined with metaphysical potions, divided what is your quotient? It doesn't add up in this
moment.
Interpersonal, intergalactic, universal assertions disturbed by verbage of outrance
Message mismanaged mischief mallaeble mayhem managed maganamously mallicous mannered when I
would proclaim them. Members materialized meriting masturbatory movements and monetized
malappropriation I have no patience nor pathos for indiscriminant egos demonstrating a tangent as canon and
paralyzing progressions toward psychic visions of heaven, eyes as the cosmos, and pressures upended.
I'll cope with associations disastrous and tainted, but keep in my visage all that scratches my lenses
I know far too much to be content with the situation, but far too little to shatter falsehood's intitiation
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
it was the
summer
of 13
when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave
amped
the tenderloin
slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen
packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers
their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End
getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society
Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....
the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps
America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers
a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed
Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels
washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe
Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters
millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast
Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours
9/8/13
NYC
jbm
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
We are slaves
to the techno-autocracy.
A faith of subscribing,
of retweeting,
of liking things
we never loved.
We chant into the feed
and call it presence.
We echo to the void
and call it voice.
The liturgy is noise.
The sacrament is scroll.
We kneel before timelines
like altar rails
and take communion in pixels.
We have traded prophets for influencers.
Revelation for reposts.
Scripture for screen time.
The holy ghost got a firmware update,
but still can’t answer support tickets.
We stare at our gods,
glowing in our palms,
and ask to be known—
but only if it fits in the caption.
There is no silence.
Only the dull roar of monetized despair.
The din that keeps us deaf.
The bombast of uninformed certainty.
The drivel that drips down our chin
while we think we’re being fed.
We are full of nothing,
and still we chew.
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 1:16 AM UTC
Let’s talk about life and let’s be frank
All global strife starts and ends at the bank
With fake inflation and monetized debt
It Cripples our nations, controls us through threat
Now let me be formal and you might think me mental
But free markets are normal it’s really the Central
Creation of cash at a click of a button
Valued at trash, your debt they take cut-in
War for resources innocence left in lurch
While weaving clauses to suppress free energy research
The influence is deep, insidious at best
Our lives they will reap seen as figures to invest
It’s a perfect legal sin That we do not deserve
Its the evil of Central Banking and Fractional Reserve
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 5:44 PM UTC
To awaken asleep
In a sedation so deep
No relation to a reality so obscure
No elation to basque in thats pure
Just lost in the system you have lost yourself in.
Frost bitten and bitter by the cold awful truth.
Your youth was sapped away and monetized
So you could be indoctrinated by thier lies.
Stand up straight,
pledge your heart,
tuck in your shirt,
forget about art,
shake hands,
make money,
make plans,
play your part,
nod and agree,
this won't hurt,
bend over and take it while the upper eshelons make it.
You're stuck in the dirt.
breed hate,
make war,
but wait theres more.
Be sheep,
eat garbage,
ignore the carnage on the screen,
open your eyes,
shut up,
listen to this party music pop,
be seen in these clothes,
drive these cars,
live in these suburbs,
Hang out at these bars
kiss the fat plastic ***** of these reality stars.
Get drunk,
get high,
get ******
get by,
Work, dont stop.
why do we try to survive?
Why is the society we live in one where desparity thrives,
taught to covet a shiny rock,
Then told it is not for us to hold,
So we dig our own graves until we get old.
Hoping to find a nugget of gold.
a concept favored by the elite classes,
a smart lazy man with a shiny rock tricked the masses into believing that he possessed value with no skills,
we still believe
so we try to achieve the thrills that come with obtaining the shiny rock,
we will do so until the world stops.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
I, the capitalist war machine,
I, the magnificent static,
I, the bomb shelter peace,
I, the twenty four hour news cycle, the rise, the relapse, the detox, the retox, the crucifixion, the rebirth, the disgrace, the continuation of the theme repeating ad nausea towards annihilation,
I, the caged ******
I, the black boy bleeding to death,
I, the rioters in the street,
I, the Wall Street gallows,
I, the old money militia,
I, the yuppie **** appropriating culture from the scraps of endless genocide,
I, the shock value mockeries of conventional moralities dumbed down to be digested,
I, the blood spilled on sacrificial altars on holy ground,
I, the celestial body ignored, passing back and forth endlessly through peripheral visions,
I, the madman howling at the moon for some ******* peace and quiet
I, the pill popping siren choking on adoration,
I, the mass hallucination shared and reshared till it loses all meaning,
I, the Pantheon collapsed,
The downfall broadcast,
The television unplugged and still playing,
I, the crushing realization,
The devastating grip of ruinous apathy,
The movement monetized,
The victory shallow,
I have built this tomb with my own hands,
I have changed the channel one too many times,
I have let this consume me
I am guilty
You are no better
Lie still
Let it consume you
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
it has always been funny to me
that they call it
sin city
because it follows that
sins are commodified, justified, or monetized
speaking for myself here
if my sins were contained to
a place, or given a context
a simple time and place
they would lose meaning
if there is any in the first place
my sins are old
my sins are new
my sins are whatever
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Sickness close: Proximity
Lacking stochastic modern movements,
Soul-less minds; confined insanity.
No inclination of the major manipulations: Monetized
Villainous Vile Vanity
Meanerding meek minded: Parasite
Misguided lives; calamity
Lost in algorithms: Numbers
No sentiments of curiosity, wonder
The planet of manic panicking
Ruthless, heinous truths
Etymology lost;
Humanity: abandoning.
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 2:28 PM UTC
When everything is monetized
And only tears are free
I think it’s time we realized
That’s not how life should be.
When you post your life on line
In hopes of earning cash
It should become a flashing sign
That it will one day crash.
Important things will fade away
In the rush to make a buck
Your only purpose every day,
To have financial luck
You’ll conjure up click-worthy memes
And pay no mind that they’re not real
That nothing’s really as it seems
As long as it’s part of the deal.
The boom will fall, that’s how it goes
And you’ll be left out in the rain
To learn what everybody knows
The lust for loot just causes pain.
ljm
Jul 17, 2023
Jul 17, 2023 at 1:52 PM UTC
And the lost souls were found
Drowned
Into the abyss of the underground
Souls tormented day and night
From the strike of a candle light
The sight
Of the universes might takes flight
And excite
The feelings hidden in despite the fight
Battlin'earthly flesh only to attest to a game of chess
Ponds on the game marinets players
Putting us to shame
Souls monetized with out a shame same
Goes for the controllers making unrealistic quotas
Universe I beg of thee gods of the known and unknown
From secret societies and mysteries laid in plain sight
Give me the powers that shall bring up a strike
Wisdom of Solomon and the hammer of Thor
Let the black magic soar galore as wickedness adores
Covered from the skies to the earth's floor core
Values arent the same the return of the star childs
Is here to tame my planet is full of black
Venom melanin is what we were made in the end
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC