"portfolios" poems
She saw the world through a camera lens
And that's just how it was
With filters and Glares from strangers
Who didn't feel the sun
She took photos of the rain
And dewdrops on the grass
Of smiling warm faces
And things that were just crass
She dreamt of her pictures
Under bylines and over books
Her documents of others
Filled with stills that could speak words
She took pictures of her girl
Who was black and blue in depth
Who wanted to be colored
But her filter shown red
She captured her in pain
And in her rare bright smiles
She told her that things
"Just take a while"
She made portfolios and scrapbooks
Of their adventures and their muse
She never knew that her girl would take her life
At a quarter after two
She cried and cried weeks to days
Until the tears just stopped
When she took a photo of the rain
And felt her sadness drop
It shattered all around the floor
And she fumbled with the keys
She printed all the pictures
And posted them with ease
She scattered them around the town
Then fell down to rest
For she could feel a burden being
Lifted off her chest
she went to the school
Of the boy who had hurt her
And her girl
She stood up
She told them
"Has she finally done enough?
She ripped her skin with blades
And fasted for days.
She lit skin on fire
Just because you are liars.
Look at this picture
Do you see her
Look mister
She was beautiful
Yet you made her feel
Like she was void of zeal
You're the ones who told her what to do
And she took her own life
Just like you told her to do.
Are you happy now!
Or are you feeling blue
Are you regretting what you told her to do!"
And with a single crack
Of a baseball bat
she took a picture
Of there bodies cracked shells
As she plumbed them to hell
She saw that red filter
And she felt the pain inside
She could feel herself laugh
Mania arise
The she took one final shot
A picture with the the two
Then killed herself to rise anew
And she got her picture under bylines
And became famous for her art
For everyone loves the artist
Who kills for their art.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
Once daddy decided to teach his son,
His favorite being politics,
He set to teach Civics..!!
He said,
Son let's begin from home,
If I be the head,
I become Prime Minister,
And your mother,
She becomes Home Minister,
At this point,
Mother who was listening
to all the commotion,
From her undisputed department,
The kitchen...!!
Came out and
Explained casually,
Your daddy is the Head,
And he becomes 'President'...
Who has to give formal approvals,
To what is sort from 'The Parliament',
He also gives approval for the budget presented,
And be guest of Honor at various public events,
He gets to speak few times a year,
And he is still the 'formal approver'...
I manage few portfolios,
Prime ministry and Home ministry,
At times I have Finance ministry too,
Defence ministry too mostly stays with me,
I am the 2/3 rd majority, I decide how to run 'The House'!!
And most times I have solid 'Opposition' too,
The leader of Opposition (LoP) is very strong,
She being your grand mother,
Is also the head of oldest party in the house.
Her party has now lost and so she is in opposition,
Disputing every new law I, the PM try to bring.
She is Old Monk with a Gin,
But with her experience and wisdom,
I the PM, is always trimmed !!
Your grand dad, is a gentle politician,
He keeps changing parties from government to opposition,
When he is with us, we give him portfolio,
We make him a minister for Agriculture, Food and Health.
In some houses he is the Retired Former President.
Living a comfortable life with benefits that come with retirement.
You dear son get to keep Games, Education and Tourism ministry.
Nothing more comes your way,
You are forced to believe you are our future,
And so your ministry always need to perform,
Because,
To brighten the future is supposed to be in your hands!!!
Sparkle In Wisdom
August 2018
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 7:39 AM UTC
Little sparrows show off their agility,
dancing up and down violin necks.
Pecking staccato notes out of the air.
Making tea and dropping ceramics
behaving clumsily and babbling nonsense
even after they've been told
sit down and be quiet.
Imitation ducks sit squat,
quiet, muddy, decoying
singing water stains,
spitting curses from their bills.
Pulling bed sheets up to their chins,
nesting between the covers.
Very anonymous in their colours,
not a deviation among them.
Cold wax and dry glue
flake off creases and folds.
These lovely imitations,
cuckoo plaster cast knuckles
snowflaking to the ground,
useless with fine motor skills.
Peeling off like dead leaves,
parasitic nest components.
All my fingernails are different lengths,
evolving finches’ beaks
on isolated islands
With scratches on the vinyl of my thumb,
sand beneath my cuticles,
scrapbooks between my fingerprints.
Piano keys team up in groups of two,
sharing sharps and flats.
Filed and polished,
pink budgies dispose of portfolios apathetically,
slamming filing cabinets shut.
Cuttle bones rattling,
mirrors cracking.
Irritable thighs complaining,
they hunker with bad posture,
frowning on their perch.
Squat salient warbles
clamoring sharply down corridors
over whistling loudspeakers.
Poster orioles elbow aside crowds,
bright bones flashing
neon signs
keratin streaked or spotted
for biological attention.
Weaponry painted exciting colours,
friendly hues and enthusiastic tints.
Lies dressed in curiosity,
attracting intrigue.
My heron neck in the air
searches for information,
explanation, observation.
Greedy for projections,
living in the tree tops,
reflected in shop windows,
my skinny anisodactyl talons
for walking on mud,
wading through marsh,
boggy water.
My hands are geese
jabbering back and forth
across my chest.
its very distracting
to have these conversations
going on between palms,
arguing the best way to fold paper cranes,
whether chocolate pudding
should be stirred clockwise or counter.
Take a gander at the world you don't touch because your fingers are too flightly
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 3:50 AM UTC
If poetry
were
currency
We would
exchange
goods
for prose
Tip with
metaphors
or
similes
-if you're
rich-
Authors
on the
stock market
-portfolios
of long poems-
It'd finally
be like
how money
feels
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:28 AM UTC
and the tired humongous ******* symbol of a day
THE ANCIENTLY DISCOVERED BANK ACCOUNT
the truth of ******* breast luv lust greed and generosity
AND YOU AND I
WHO SIMPLY GET BORN
LIVE AND DIE
And watch the baseball games
SELAH!
(and sometimes....
our children)
SOMETIMES!
and the hope and the prayers for peace
hidden somewhere
in our "portfolios"
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 12:15 PM UTC
Investors need to stop treating stocks as a ‘beauty contest’ and follow the difficult investment style of Keynes, global pension expert Keith Ambachtsheer said.
Data produced in a working paper from the Harvard Business Schoolshowed that portfolios built on firms with a good material sustainability rating outperformed those that had a poor rating, an aspect not considered enough by investors who were caught up with quarterly returns, Ambachtsheer said at a Chartered Financial Analyst seminar in Sydney on Monday.
“What I see happening out there is largely speculation – what Keynes called ‘beauty contest investing’, where everybody tries to figure out what the most popular stocks are going to be in six months, buys them and when they become really popular sells them,” Ambachtsheer said.
He added the implications of this investment style as an aggregate was a zero sum game, whereas investing should be taking savings and turning them into wealth producing capital.
“The key thing is you need to look beyond the next quarter; you look at the long-term sustainability of the business model of the corporation, as well as the people behind it in terms of how it is being managed.”
The Harvard Business School (HBS) working paper superimposed the Sustainability Accounting Standards Board materiality map (which identifies likely material sustainability issues on an industry-by-industry basis) onto 400 common US stocks identified through sustainability metrics from Kinder, Lydenberg, Domini Research & Analytics.
They examined what effect materiality would have over the long-term (starting from the 1980s) and found the top 10 per cent of firms that scored strongly on material sustainability outperformed the bottom 10 per cent, by nine per cent over a rolling twenty-year period.
“The practical question is, can you actually manage money this way in the real world? And the answer is yes, but it’s very hard, because you are doing unconventional things,” Ambachtsheer said.
Real-world Keynesianism investors – such as Warren Buffett and the Ontario Teachers’ Pension Plan – are in a minority despite outperforming over the long-term. In chapter 12 of his seminal workThe General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money, Keynes explained the reason for this was the essence of long-term investors meant their behaviour would be eccentric, unconventional and rash in the eyes of average opinion.
“Most organisations can’t function like this,” Ambachtsheer said, as they were too focused on the present.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/backless-formal-dresses
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 2:31 AM UTC
The rich get it good
oh yes they do ...
they don't send their
boys to die in foreign
wars that are usually
being fought in response
to some pressing $ value
for them & their friends
despite all the lies &
justifications coming
your way,
& they own the tv folks
that you & your buddies
absorb & who tell you of
a world that they wish
you to see & by design
also teaches of how others
are coming for you & you
are best off by voting
for another very rich man
who obviously can best
represent your interests
... quite obviously,
& having fooled you into
believing basic compassion
is communist in nature &
that really its every man
for himself in this vicious
world & that coal is good,
& climate change is cooked
up by the biased intelligentsia,
they can continue their base
pursuits & just keep on raking
it in,
& continually stressing that
anyone from this shining city
on a hill can make it big-time
like Riche Rich ignoring of course
basic facts such as class & race
or where you were born & into
which family of what colored
skin they have again succeeded
in their narrative of oh good
god how wonderful are we!
& lets just a keep on with the
way it is cos there's no alternative
really & any its close to Maoism,
& whilst all this is going on
they manage quite stealthily
in a way but perhaps also in
that great American tradition
of the sly feelgood huckster
they get you all seeing Jesus
through a salesman's eyes
as if Christianity was negotiable
in trade-offs & reservations &
justifications for bigotry, bias,
profit & shallow mercantile just
plain someone else making
a buck of you all,
& rich people get the best of
everything don't they really,
schools, hospitals, retirement
plans, all of which they fool you
into voting to cut, cut, cut,
which leaves you poorer folks
worse off & those rich folks
with just more gold coins to add
to their piles in off-shore accounts,
fancy real estate, & investment
portfolios,
its all pretty simple really,
they pretty much own
your *** & you keep
on a handing it
to them
don't you.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
That dullard Percival Crane
he's boring into my brain
he's talking train
timetables and grain
sizes and portfolios
and shares
**** he's assaulting my ears
Next time when I spy his magnified eyes
I'll say, see you Percy, my how time flies
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
Obey no one
but the call of
your inner most self
and walk barefoot
upon the Earth
like you were meant to
before modern man
became portfolios
diversifying arrogance
instead of his head
No one looks you
in the eye anymore
connoisseurs of rude
Walk forward now
and don't look back
Dodge bullets
with a smile as your
secret weapon
*And laugh with
the best them*
Making good as pretty
as you go...
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
Portfolios of love stocks,
Investments in a fickle,
Worthless market,
Corporate madness,
Wall of brokers broken,
Crumpled ticker tapes.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 11:43 AM UTC
A water bottle perched
on a desk, cluttered
with papers. Old writing,
portfolios of work half-forgotten.
A hand grips the bottle,
untwists the cap,
sips. Right now,
her words
are her only friend.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 7:18 PM UTC
CEO's buy Corporate HO's with
Shareholders Financial Invested Stock Portfolios
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Did you ever really see me
Did you ever look past the fence
I know I build one around me but for you
I unhinged the lock and let you advance
Did you size me up in a passing glance
Did you throw me to the wayside when you found
The opportune chance
Did you check my resume and see a lack of
Creative projects and weathered portfolios
Did you dismiss my non-fine arts degree
Surely a history major like me
Had no flashy spark similar
To your friends and artsy possy
“I’m just a passionate person”
I recall being your excuse
As to why our failed romance
Had to cease on cue
Well sit down and listen up buddy
I’m here to share a few thoughts
You see writers like me
Don’t paint pretty pictures
Music doesn’t come from our fingertips and lips
We don’t work on logos
And I don’t have much of an eye for design
But my passion is displayed
When I take out my heart and dissect it
For the very words that bleed out of
My spiritual and emotional core
I can be a creative god as well
And sit upon your intellectual throne
So make way for this writer’s words that form
This little lady’s inner combat zone
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
“It is what it is”
-Such a popular phrase!
And folks spread it around
Like Fast Food Mayonnaise.
It’s been used to describe
Economic foment,
The state of the arts and
The high cost of rent.
A phrase often spoken
When you wish to seem wise-
In the loop, in the know,
But it’s all just a guise.
It’s a symptom of sorts
Of our current malaise
You did not hear it much
in our halcyon days.
In that past, half remembered,
where house prices rose.
Where portfolios doubled,
and we all wore new clothes.
We were kings of the world
And we partied till three.
Now we live on fixed income
And we struggle to ***
“It is what it is”
Is no optimist’s line
It’s a dull sounding phrase
Half resigned to hard times.
It implies things are bad
and inclined to get worse.
“It is what it is”
To me it’s a curse.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 1:49 PM UTC
1996
When news of his would-be death arrived,
his body sterile in white cloth,
serene his was, his finest stupor – clinging on to a drip
of life, his tongue a strawberry his mother recounted,
forcing him into, his senses dulled,
it was 1996: else there was understanding,
there was a hand in a hand that is a latticed rose
of beauty – or unbeauty, the high prayer of it,
they sat in front of the room facing a mute wall
for days weeping or laughing. The rustling of the
daily paper broke silence not news – his dearth was sure.
no more almost was when he went sharply
in a field of grass, his shredded amusement
received by an unfolding – it was his years sideswiping
him later on, his indices of age revealing an undulant postscript
to which there were imaginary sky-portfolios and
a particular representation of a smoothened end of a smoking gun
he held now, years after, years later on
a portion of it his mouth pressed on a lover’s,
and a footnote hidden
deep within his pelvis: come back here when laden
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
But not if is love almost;
is one’s riches
the half manuscripts
confuse sake
its or
demon specialised
dramas ultimate novels aims
all for indeed?
Next perhaps.
Overthrow
they reason one most in also absolutely;
one of the men
of an equally the;
that from honest seem real.
Life a this degrees
health investigations.
Man who.
The afraid.
Disturbs that of is a;
the its.
Time appears deranges to.
To it statesmen is it all most sacrificed a goal;
motives it.
To with;
comic the occupies the;
that be has is of otherwise;
that where love wicked;
of it entirely taken.
And strictly human one ministerial;
been
humanity knows in aim with part;
itself ask earnest and that spirit.
And it.
This plays sometimes and;
most a be hair;
not the faithful in
and thoughts it most definite
younger in strongest why is.
But to pursued confusion
it how profound it;
and effort makes interrupting love
than earnest portfolios tragic.
To seriousness ethereal of.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 4:51 PM UTC
It's all quiet on the western front
When towers fall and empires crumble
When storms ravage half a country
A thousand screams are silenced by a handful
It's all quiet on the western front
When mothers mourn and monsters meet
Inside of laminate portfolios
With bright futures and buried pleasures
It's all quiet on the western front
When seconds make cents
And it no longer makes sense
To tell them that you love them
Without paper doing it as well as
The trees they carved their names in
It's all quiet on the western front
When blood is used as currency
To buy and polish ammunition
From nations drowning
In the smell of rusted crimson
And think of the children
Who are armed to the teeth
With spite and grief and melancholy
Against the thrumming of their rib cages
With rounds discharged like the veterans
Who were just in the wrong place
But at what time
Did the commander think it wise
To drop explosives on civilians?
It's all quiet on the western front
When business is just for staying busy
Complacent couples with granite counters
Correcting their children in their grammar
Or their choices in careers
It's all quiet on the western front
When adding two and two together
Becomes menial work pushed to the
Calculators made by cracked palms
And shaking fingers which we pay
2 dollars an hour
To do the tasks our brittle bodies
Had enough of the first time a television
Switched on, the first time someone
Picked up a bottle, the first cigarette ever lit
in the suburbs
And the yelling is done in an organized fashion
With labels thrown up in the air
And as the prosecution rests
The poor boy's family hold their heads
As if the ceiling would start to cave in
On itself and like the system
It is truly hell to barely scrape
By life only to brush by death's
Shoulder and regret 300 years worth of unity
Which separates the equal and demeans
Those who try to be
And to those peering out across
The scarlet sea, the shine
And gold may be worth the trials and
Tribulations but tenacious souls
Need only know that gold is rock and
Crystal sheen is merely a reflection
Of the destruction and the silence
And the demons that we will not confront
And in the presence of a microphone
The world falls still
And wonders if the speaker will respond
Or if they won't
It's still all quiet on the western front.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:42 PM UTC
and we
rise as high as we
dare to risk falling
--------
those who "protect" themselves
from all adversity......?
.............what are these?
-------
claiming the god power
yet lost in hiding....these
cause such sorrow
who can fathom the waste?
---------
america is a dying (nay!.. a dead
nation
if you are wealthy
this is a good thing
for your portfolio
it seems all "god's people"
have well protected portfolios
----------
that's because they really never bother
with god
------------
hypocrisy trumps sincerity
round these parts
---------------
we rise as high
as high is
death is fear
---------
power doesnt take
you
from the fear
Aug 25, 2011
Aug 25, 2011 at 6:19 PM UTC
Bios, portfolios and resumes oh my!
Where am I going? Where do I stand? Who was I?
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC