"poorness" poems
So I’m marrying this young girl, see,
it’s the second time round.
My first wife died and
I’ve been struggling and drowning.
So I'm clutching the life raft
of this girl who is beautiful and young,
who’s romantic and sure of her ground,
and she and her family believe
that I can breathe and survive again.
Me? Can I remember how to be gentle and kind to them?
It was luck. I was lucky before.
Because now I'm a veteran of the thousand campaigns
and I’ve bayed at the moon, see,
then I hunted with The Beast.
And anyway, my first wife and I
********* her name is Lorayne!)
suffered, and then suffocated
before our love soared so high.
Then we danced like fireflies, fabulously,
until the future ended forever.
So how can this new girl
find ecstasy with me and, and,
you know, live happily ever after,
which is such an impossible dream,
and how can I handle all this ******* purity
and innocence and beauty and youth
and flawless skin and fairy tale stuff
when I’m so gnarled
and twisted and knotted?
You see, I'm actually deeply ashamed.
In spite of my much vaunted campaigns,
I'm really a coward.
I'm afraid I can't drag myself back and do this again.
Can we possibly become fireflies and dance in the flame?
Yes, yes, I know.
We'll swear to love and to honor and to obey
in sickness and in health
in richness and in poorness
until death do us part.
Though this formula's too cute. It doesn't mention the pain.
But there's no other option. I must try to rise up again,
and alright, once more, I'll call on the flame.
So I'll cast out my demons and force them away.
Somehow, I'll hold those monsters at bay to give you
the light and the love you say
is still there, everywhere.
You are wide-eyed and oh, so naive.
But I desperately want to believe you.
I need you.
Oh god, I hope we can love without fear.
Mike T Minehan
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 10:28 PM UTC
The world understands nay struggle:
It is like speaking French in China,
Or Yoruba in Greece, or in Ghana
Arabic--it's a communication horrible!
But success, however awkward
It doth sound, has an audible voice,
Which is louder than the clangours
Of thunders that ring from heavenward.
The speech of poorness is scarcely
Heard in one's kith and kin's ears;
Whilst riches talk with dainty lips,
Whether foul tunes out they breathe.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
They say diamonds are forever
Whether this is true i dont understand
Im delt with the hand of little or no money
Its funny im a joke im a fool
I go to school everyday study in many ways
For what ? So when im older i can have mula or moola
Whatever you want im living life by rules
Where people with no heart start out rich
And people in touch with their souls dont have ****
Excuse my french but i have a foul stench of poorness
Not only in money but love
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
A gentle kiss for one longed missed. A white dove from above for dearest beloved. My lady has it been a thousand moons; by God's will, I'll see you soon.
Eyes of that of blue moon, what greater sight than bride to groom? In sickness and in health so shall this be. In poorness and in wealth stay by me.
From the moment this knot is tied, until the day this man has died; I'll be there to wipe your tears; I'll be there to fight your fears; I'll be there to keep you safe; I'll be there to hold you near.
Whether it be day light or eternal night, you should forever be the apple of my sight.
Jan 31, 2021
Jan 31, 2021 at 2:53 PM UTC
Caught by poverty, swinging on its hook
like a fish. Down in the mouth was he
so his relatives fled, friends him forsook:
Lingering nights of unchanged story;
Pining in the grips of paucity.
Ha, he was a forgotten being--
despised and belittled by everybody!
Poorness is a brutal burden and yoke
upon the shoulders of life. It's no joke.
Lack is a wretched beast
and want a miserable guest.
Better to dwell with a mouse!
But heaven's eyes are full of mercy,
wherefore he was visited suddenly.
For the Ark of God into his house
ere long, by Grace's hand, was taken
by David, when with fear he's stricken--
lest like Uzzah he be by and by killed,
who, looking at the Ark tilting, It steadied.
And the Object of dread and horror--
within three months of stay--for the king,
became the Bringer of blessing and favour
to the habitation of Obed-edom,
making his name for eternity to ring
a bell of honour in human kingdom.
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
Dance to the tune of yesterdays promise
Hope for the pay out on another days win,
Cast around for that magical formula
Knowing that lotto is primarily spin.
Frantically poised with high expectations,
Ready to pounce on that first lucky break,
Keeping the ace card carefully hidden
Waste it and you'll be as mad as a snake.
What determines the gap between winners and losers,
What is the difference in the mode of approach?
Is the talent to guess what's round the corner
The key to dismantling this realm of reproach?
Happiness rests on a knife edge balance
Having too many is as bad as too few,
Suspicion that others are stealing it off you
Destroys you as much as poverty will do.
How many fat cats are really ecstatic,
How many lie awake in their beds?
Tossing and turning, worrying, burning.
Suspicion and avarice tormenting their heads.
On the other hand poorness is no picnic either,
Hardship and hunger are no friends of mine.
Destitution and cranial aimlessness....
Lost to the world and a great waste of time.
So what have you got? What is the answer?
Go for broke and ****** the cost?
Walk over your mates and live with the consequence
Or hold back and join the legions of lost?
As I walk through the valley of death I ponder,
Lost in this web of lust and intrigue,
Am I coming to terms with greed and confusion
Or going backwards and starting to bleed?
Marshalg
At the Gate
Mangere Bridge
4th January 2008
Oct 13, 2009
Oct 13, 2009 at 11:54 PM UTC
If only i have the good of fortune
For sure you and I now dancing in the moon
Having the nicest wedding in the month of June
But things are unfortunate to me I believe your two eyes see
If only I hold the lamp of genie
That could grant every of my wish
For sure we are flying wingless and surfing the sea
But in reality I couldn't afford just riding a taxi
If only I possessed that lucky charm
For sure I can give you anything that you want
All the joy and pleasure the world could give
But this poorness in me don't want to leave
If only I could perform a magic
For sure I will engrave your name in those clouds
Right now I'm happy that even without those IF ONLY
You still love me for SIMPLY BEING ME....
written: Oct. 1, 2002 @ 6:30 pm
Mysterious Aries
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
Lost, refound
Boding a sense of austerity...
That predicted a conscience, of how
The wait and waters, of possibility...
Finish me
My salt's worth, is a heroism to find
The world in a tailspin, a poised anarchy?
That sees the seldom of assurance to mind...
Long and bared
The tooth of passion
Has been lost, somewhere
And a secret with my needs, has an intuition
Berate a friend for slowness...?
A tale of homage and vestige, to count
As another ideal live and let live, of kindness
Has come and gone, to consider a chastity in the round?
Curiosity, is at an all-time high?
Time with a haphazard sign of the times?
Bared elucidation will become our justice for nigh?
Asked by a truer us, the past to few, is but intellects shines?
Until...
A silence is broken by the seizure of occults
Of vice and sigh's of vindication, a bitter pill?
We can spend on moral's, the better purpose without walls
Pittances and pains, patience and poorness
Through an angel's eyes, devil's become a shadow
Of complexity we should know, for a world to guess
A faring sunshine to tell a story about a staring shame, love?
Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 12:06 AM UTC
When we stop running away from ourselves,
by not trying to feel different,
by embracing our whole supposed poorness
and the feeling of not being loved and to suffer need,
with compassion for ourselves,
so if we stay in this way with every possible emotion,
without making the step into term, explain, judge
and finally also fight,
then we encounter ourselves for the first time.
Then we begin to make us familiar with ourselves,
as we would awaken slowly, slowly
from a sleep lasting since eternities,
as if we were only now, when we were not before.
Then a intimacy grows with ourselves,
then we see with our heart and not just with the mind:
God’s or Buddha’s love
is the same as the love for ourselves.
If we remain exactly by that, what we feel,
our heart will become so open, that no more separation exists,
because all separation happens only in the mind.
Then we see the perfect in the imperfect, the beauty in the ugliness,
because there is longer any place, where we would not be.
All we can see, is
always only we ourselves, always only we ourselves, always only we ourselves.
All we can love, we are always only we ourselves.
This not to see means to suffer.
What we see may seems to us like a curse.
Yet this gate to hell is a gate to heaven,
and opens up to us after long struggles far greater peace,
than any sweet threshold.
© Barbara-Paraprem, 2014
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
a short period of poorness is already underway when I enter to promise my dog and nod to my wife. dumb in the mouth I announce I am thinking behind. my shyness is a chair sent from a distant church. the one man in the room tells me I have a purpose and confides that he too is a rental. I’m just here for my unmarried wife who was recently overwhelmed by the human response of our dog. being that the women are slow to evoke, I’ll have myself know your sons are on a flat surface having a nightmare nightmares notice.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
kid with dog, I know, not what you’re thinking of my midwestern peace porn. for lightning burn a stick above advancing plastic army. make zeroed the black kid with red dog. this I can follow. my loyalty to shame and to the poorness of my spirit’s ghost. god drawing himself in god’s raffle. a woman with cigarette on a zoo outing. bold I make her in images mine. I stalk, don’t worry, I tell her myself. it’ll pass being tired of god.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
In my Heart, an ache
And my thoughts are bite me.
Why? Am Ia skylark?
For me, she sung a ballad
And blaze fired her eyes.
Wounded heart, to be feared
the moon melts like dew,
This gloomy day knock well
Am going, from the ***** house.
Who get off me this shippen?
In the cage, my madly brother
Soundly roar his rusted chain.
In the kitchen, mother cook poorness
With lots of tear and fear.
===============
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
Dance to the tune of yesterdays promise
Hope for the pay out on another days win,
Cast around for that magical formula
Knowing that lotto is primarily spin.
Frantically poised with high expectations,
Ready to pounce on that first lucky break,
Keeping the ace card carefully hidden
Waste it and you'll be as mad as a snake.
What determines the gap between winners and losers,
What is the difference in the mode of approach?
Is the talent to guess what's round the corner
The key to dismantling this realm of reproach?
Happiness rests on a knife edge balance
Having too many is as bad as too few,
Suspicion that others are stealing it off you
Destroys you as much as poverty will do.
How many fat cats are really ecstatic,
How many lie awake in their beds?
Tossing and turning, worrying, burning.
Suspicion and avarice tormenting their heads.
On the other hand poorness is no picnic either,
Hardship and hunger are no friends of mine.
Destitution and cranial aimlessness....
Lost to the world and a great waste of time.
So what have you got? What is the answer?
Go for broke and ****** the cost?
Walk over your mates and live with the consequence
Or hold back and join the legions of lost?
As I walk through the valley of death I ponder,
Lost in this web of lust and intrigue,
Am I coming to terms with greed and confusion
Or going backwards and starting to bleed?
Marshalg
At the Gate
Mangere Bridge
4th January 2008
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
Listening to the future
Sing a song, sing a deeds our
In the stark and relative promise, we cure
With hugs and kisses, the toil of anarchy in all power
Cherished time...
With imbued lips, the chastity of sorts
The wind to live once more, in world and chime
To know a clash with poise, these tears are yours...
Rights risen, to voices of callousness...
With the claim of sincerity as a tool, that becomes
A harrowed force, we have never seen without bless
Of a seclusions kindness, though even a hate may be some's
Risen rights, to voices we care
Forth a heady Christ, the trade of a lifetime?
Walls of avarice and heed of a monstrous appetite to fare
Is here and now, beloved, even in the eyes of barren lives?
Burden in sight, brief as a war with silence is
Evermore, the turn of chastity into a problem for needs
That burned a charity's flames, a grant of sin to substance
That in the spoken drive to see another become, living seeds
Welcome home
The vanity of surmisal, and its hurry to question the truth
Has added, has asked the vestige of powers, has life atoned?
For the notice of speed in the vices we spare, from even the risks of poorness, so aloof...
Oct 9, 2023
Oct 9, 2023 at 6:29 PM UTC
Continuity we embrace not,
For change; we voted.
Expectations raised to the sky,
Hoping tears dry off our eyes;
Ought heaven exists on earth,
With our ablaze fire alter ice.
Our illnesses; we hunt for immune,
Our poorness;
Messiah we seek to inoculate.
With idle promises; ye woo us.
Thought struggle has ended;
In the cause of all.
For our problems;
Ye are cognizant.
Bad governance, ye feed us;
Expectations pull beneath the dust;
As animals, ye treat us;
Our aspirations ye brutal.
©Toure
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
If this Heaven
Then why do I feel
Like the devil is laughing
At my perfect little world
I have everything I want
More money than I can spend
I don't know any sadness
I can order away the rain
I've got plenty of friends
Though none are really close
I don't have to cook
And cleaning is a joke
The spotlight's on me
Just as I've always wished
But deep inside I feel emptiness
My house is very grand
My front lawn is perfect
The chandelier makes a statement
And the swimming pool is heated
I spend more money in a day
Than some make in a month
Nobody can tell me what to do
And that's the way I like it
But still I feel miserable
Consumed by loneliness
They say this is Heaven
That I'm living the good life
But I still feel forlorn
And I weep again for poorness
Because the money means nothing
All it does is buy me lies
And without it, I'm afraid my friends wouldn't care
If I lived or I died
The chandelier's lights are always burnt out
The grass is just painted that sickening hue
I'm running out of things to buy
I get sunburnt laying by the pool
I miss the sound of rain on the windows
And I weep for some wise advice
I do nothing all day
And make millions more
Than those who work day and night
I don't think this is Heaven
It simply can't be
Heaven wouldn't feel like this
Maybe it's Hell
All dressed up
Presented to look nice
But when you try to get a closer look
It's breath is still cold as ice.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
If you're in poorness, you're not alone
If you're in pain, you're not alone
If you're in a long chase, you're not alone
If you've wasted years of life, you're not alone
If your future is in doubt, you're not alone
If nobody helps you, you're not alone
If nothing seems to work, you're not alone
If the world seems to be crushing you, you're not alone
If you feel like a broken thing, you're not alone
If you're at your limit, you're not alone
If you wish to sleep forever, you're not alone
If you don't want to be alone, you're not alone
When you commit mistakes, you're not alone
When you can't find peace, you're not alone
When you're walking a lonely road, you're not alone
When you're in your own head, you're not alone
When you're smiling alone, you're not alone
When you're alone, you're not alone.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 11:54 PM UTC
I thirst for you, the Lover of my Soul.
I hunger for you , the Lover of my Soul.
You are my Life Strength, Lover of my Soul.
For everything comes from you, this is Truth,
From my Beginning till the end of my Life.
So I shall always Trust in your Loving Kindness.
For you are the Lover of my Soul, my Creator.
The wealth or poorness both are your Blessings...
To us , your Loving people for everything is yours.
We do not need money to be rich through you.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
at times I lust at Bukowski's rambling,
others, I see him as a drunk got lucky
Stammering
lost his feelings of poorness
and suffering when he made it big.
I promise to always be
a fine cultured nice laughing
drunk poet whatever what.
Never to put down poetry readings
like I am some God or better
than anyone.
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
The "God," in which I really don't believe
We call "God", gave us switch of Authority
Stuff that he made, he saved it
In reality.
Who is the real God that made our God?
All creation, created, each has its own story
We call it "Process" that which leads us to success.
God defines "Process" as enduring through the levels.
You reach the 100th level, you go to the next level.
This which we call "Success", many people won't know
Because they never try anything and have the thing called
The "Process".
Why this great "God" doesn't just give us
everything? Without inequality, poverty, war,
suicide, and obstacles… We might be
Living with more happiness, no poorness,
No injustice.
What thing brought today's destiny?
Did "God" actually feel jealousy?
If so, God can be expressed as a "person"
That feels emotions like you and I do.
If "People" and "God" feel emotions in
same way, the given destiny won't change
Ever. So, I want to live differently from others,
The rebellion to change destiny.
For me, this way is rebellious, but
In reality, it is not a rebellion.
All I want to show is that everybody
has the authority to live differently.
Just Walk out.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC