"recessions" poems
if you're lost without direction
i will be one of maybe just a few
i can be your own compass
let me encompass you, when
direction is unknown my arms
are a place to move,
come in enjoy the warmth
for i will always face
north straight true
when your life is all recessions
and really all depressions too
let me be
your
compass
let me come encompass you
your Longitude and Latitude are
all thrown
in a muck
let me get you to a place,
where you wont feel so stuck
The tropic of cancer
Is not a place for one to linger
if you need to grab my hand
hold on like i'm your stringer
when you cant
gasp another
breathe and
there isn't
anything
you can do
come, and let me be your
compass, let me come
and encompass you
every sigh you relieve
will help find you on
the map, and every
time you squeeze
my hands, will help
you to relax
this world is full of problems, one
thing that im for sure, so lets forget all
the complacent and replace them with
something more, wipe away your
tears you wont need them where
we are going. if your lost ill be
your paddles we can find the
way together and just like
a little compass ill
be here forever
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
We’re in a young-love recession.
Gen Zers are slow to trust and averse to risk,
we have, it seems, a particular social nervousness
about interpersonal exchanges and the symbiosis of love.
So we resort to situationships (undefined relationships),
a stratagem for closeness, with zero commitment.
You can flirt; you can kiss; you can dance.
You can have a crush so big it blots out the stars
You can have transformative romantic encounters
you can care deeply and get hurt badly
you can, in fact, be absolutely wrecked by love
All without ever being in a relationship.
Thank God we’re only young once.
.
.
Songs for this:
Die With A Smile by Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
Busy Woman by Sabrina Carpenter
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 9:55 PM UTC
Panasonic and Sony beeping
in custom made Reid & Taylor pockets.
A trade for a Rolex throned on his wrist in lieu of
once existent dreams, in now hollow sockets.
Adrenaline pumping before
high stakes meetings and brunches.
Calculating the dose of his choice of drug,
penthouse suites and timeline crunches.
Dizzy with ambition, painting
******* bleached canvasses.
Narcissistic laughter aimed to beguile others,
he, for whom his relaxants are stresses.
Dealing with the Devil himself,
power tainted and ill-gotten,
the realization that humans are not beyond sale;
in markets, mergers and acquisitions.
Recessions, Inflations, cruel overdoses
of risk, of danger unspoken.
And when he surfaces again to consciousness,
profits, losses both taken and broken.
Lost in the sewers filled with;
stock brokers and agents alike: the pawnors,
a haughty expression with green bills,
to score his ecstasy, capital owners.
Another dollar, another hit
never enough to sleep remembering the day.
A Corporate ****** scouring for riches,
a high, a trance not soon before long will sway.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 9:04 AM UTC
Today, I fell into a medication nightmare,
because I don't know why, I really don't care
I DON'T GIVE A ****
But I did give a dare !
I lied to you about past aggressions,
deep recessions and loud obsessions.
These jagged little pills are in my possession.
I swallow them whole, one after another,
the red one, the blue one, sister or brother,
see you don't know me any more,
So just look away
and don't even bother
These pills are my family, my welcome mat.
They say "HI, how are you, would you like a drink with that?"
They greet me in the morning and kiss me before my evening nap!!
They take walks with me from the cup to the sink,
three minutes later, my mind stops to think,
I stumble around in lucid dreams,
and two seconds later, I dropped that drink.
Body numbed and pill jar emptied
This medication nightmare just reached out
and bit me.
I opened my eyes and could not see clearly,
and said to myself "What day is it, please?"
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 10:11 PM UTC
.
In a deflationary period, prices will drop, corporate profits will dry up, wages will shrink, and all of this will reinforce the conditions of recessions. This happens for two reasons.
The first is that deflation keeps money on the sidelines as consumers wait for prices to fall further. This causes demand to shrink.
Deflation also adds to the real value of debt. This makes consumers and businesses less likely to take out loans and make big purchases to grow the U.S.'s consumption-driven economy.
And deflation runs counter to the goals of most of the world's central banks. Most notably, the U.S. Federal Reserve.
"Central bankers want inflation so they can pay back inflated debt in cheaper dollars," said Money Morning Capital Wave Strategist Shah Gilani.
But as we start 2015, deflation has arrived. Just check out these four deflation indicator
1. Falling crude oil prices
2. Falling commodity prices
Heating oil futures are down 47%.
Natural gas futures are down 36%.
Copper futures are down 24%.
Unleaded gas is down 23%.
Soybean oil is down 15%.
Wheat futures are down 11%.
Corn futures are down 8%.
The other two I read somewhere but they were cut off in this article. I will have to look.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC
Digging underground
Found the diamond
Lost
In the crowd
Soundly speaking on the floor
Beaten badly wanting more
Bruises
Delirious about the uselessness
Of therapy and Sunday classes
By the masses
Childhood memories of running
On a beach
Sand between my toes
Mechanics strange and
Wired like gadgets
Tickets on trains to seafoam
Shores when
December comes
Beguiling smirk
Gazing like a toddler in wonder
At the said shutters of others
Maybe in split-screens with
Vivid color
The lackluster utterings die
At the sight
Cat-eyed and wild
Sighing like a child at coarse
Trivial arrivals of those
Suicidal yearnings resurfaced by
Days-break
Dysfigured in space as shapeless
As the speech that defined it
Butterfly darlings my
Coat flowing on the windless air
As a cocoon I'm enveloped in
Bed by many toppled books to
Beseech in disparity at all the
Shared pairs I erased
Like tickled bruises all sunken and
Hopeless in keeping up with
The moment
Gloves stitched
Kerosene patched dribbled
Against sunscreen
Tired-awake unable to sleep
Fascinated with miracles and the
Shadows in sight
Dismissed while in a crisis that
Felt steep in the night of one's
Soul
A tourniquet strapped around
My elbow in the cold snow
What's the criteria for the
Mentally unsuitable
We are preachers, poets, wives
With ribbons in our hair
Cradled in hate
Dissipated softly only to
Awaken with grim morning
After morning
Dark-days of chaos-tripping
Laid flat on my stomach-ache
Removed by time like an
Hourglass state of mind
Written on my tongue in a
Glamorous sheen caught deep
Within the recessions of my
Brain
Unseen and I imagine
I am that firefly caught in the
Glass container
Blue as lapis lazuli
Blue as the livor mortis after
Suffocating
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
He and I are the same:
umbrellas on sunny days, nothing in the rain and
shivering, slightly, in the warmth of sunny rooms.
His gentle face watches me walk through the door
and he paces the floor looking for a rhyme
that will hold me, neat like the sonnet he’s folding
my quiet dear, who walked in shadowed rooms
forever, noticed slightly dimming lights
and slighter changes in the weather, afternoons
with showers, clear and starry nights.
she smelled like air and puddles on the street
The rosy blush of clouds after a storm--
the pinkish blush of clouds after a storm--
the white and empty sky after a storm--
He admits defeat, and again we are the same,
afraid to speak each other’s names, waiting
for rhymes that would’t come, or never came.
But we could slink back into the mountainsides,
coastlines, deep tree recessions and rain-filled
nights, you and I. Be brave and build a home,
a bed and a desk, fill up our books with poems
about the weather, the curves of our necks, lay
our words in the soil of the cold, careful northwest.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
*The urge to make
Pretty patterns with ink
On the delicate peice of paper, wanting emotions
Making a small blot at the end of my confession,
Sinking all my life's recessions
Thinking all the time I didn't do my work with precession
And left everything just to decorate a small peice of paper with agression.
All these little letters mean a lot
But they are a patch in my life
Just like the unwanted ink blots,
They won't wash away
And if they do,
The patterns would merge with the cleanliness
Moving on to the gutter's way.
My words are my life
My soul doesn't matter as much
For if I give up my soul, these rife
Words would thrive
At some corner of this huge universe
Just as small as a seed of sand,
They'll live forever
Even as little ink blots,
Someone would someday discover
There tiny dots
I am not the one who cares if
He reads it or throws it away
But mark my words as I say
My letters are alive
And in someone's heart these blots will forever stay.*
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
A highly respected economist
Was in search of recessions’ real Genesis.
He said, “Grow the economy
Right through Deuteronomy,
But Numbers is truly our Nemesis!”
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 11:16 AM UTC
I prefer the over casted grey. Give me your scared collarbones that expose themselves after I have felt you. The infatuation with indifference is somewhat disposing of me. I have been numb for so long i've lost count of the inhalations that run along my ribs. I once drew the lines of those recessions and it expanded past the atlantic. Give me your motives baby.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 3:16 AM UTC
When all the dust has blown
By all the rust be grown
Change the scene for once more;
Leaf in the wind, and spore.
An infinitesimal seed
So hapless and inconceivable,
That emptiness of heart
Germinates of a green new start.
A negligible bacterium
To the unforeseen eye
Effervesce, bloom and spume!
Company will soon greet you!
O embrace the sobering ground,
'Tis here just like you found.
All the resources will draw nigh,
'Twas in you all this time!
All need words of encouragement,
Some protein and enzyme.
Rest, reactants, in thy calm tent,
Get some shut eye to see rhyme.
But ever haunted of the past
Should the even'n empire return(1)
See a world in a grain of sand(2),
But never Heaven on this land.
Lo the booms and the busts!
Lo expansions and recessions!
Lo the mad and the sad!
Lo multitudes and solitudes!
O humanity I love you!(3)
How generations trapp'd
That live in cells within, imbued
To so idly stay rapt.
But to their good fortune, adapt!
You shall be absolved
Walking with peace as every stepp'd(4),
The diplomat endow'd
Alas! A new variety!
With such resilience
In ev'ry zone, ev'ry climate
Here to live, here to please!
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
Others asking others
Questions about me
Why can't you all just let my life be?
Recessions , Depressions
Chaos in every direction
Unspoken confessions
Nature spirals teaching same lessons
Our fathers come back not pleasant
Leaders sit quietly as peasants
Gigantic invisible spiders
Parent planned ways of survival
End Age ancient revivals
Unchanging worshipping idols
Enhanced rewritten bibles
People visit
Waving farewell
Many listening
Some under their spell
Open unhidden meanings
Hope they sleep well
Several returning to hell
Them Over us
Say be silent don't fuss
But it's not in Our God they trust
Won't give us fair warnings
Many woken not snoring
Nothing never new
We are just as good as *******
You already knew
Eyes stuck with know glue
Everything will be fixed soon
You did get the clue
Many man made disasters
Waiting for date of its master
Know the savior even faster
Life saving words from your pastor
These Global warnings
Affects every morning
Volcanos close to blowing
They say their not knowing
Thanks for the ride
Yourself side by side
Forgot to say, Goodbye
Troubles sprinkled world wide
While they repeat, things are alright
Earth reaching her deadline.
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
We're mammals;
Walking, talking, thinking.
We're animals.
Upright, articulable, sophisticated.
Yet, we pay little respect,
Fret more then reflect;
For an ancestor we all share
And yet share more in neglect!
What long ways to have come
To have gone so little distance;
To be ever farther than before,
But to have done really so very little!
I talk about our planet!
I talk about all those who inhabit!
It's a rotten mess that's been made.
Each blemish, every scar, all the stains
Marked & soaked into each & every page!
Many great recessions & regressions,
Degradations & destructions-
That's what we offer everything.
But I digress from the apathy,
For it is better thought to think of change.
What beauty nature must have been,
Even understanding the difficulty
Of life prior to our modernity.
Years & years ago, hundreds & thousands,
When natural life was more abundant.
"When we were slaves to nature!"
"When all was bountiful & liberated!"
"When we were aching & starving!"
"When all was free & meritable!"
It's all perspective,
But are they all really mutually exclusive?
Like the popular philosophies of a moment
Fluctuating with the pass of time.
From good to bad,
Like stored food going spoiled.
From growth to decay,
Like rust on metal forming.
Yet, it's just change.
Yet, those are just oddities.
Everyday examples
Because of our lifestyles.
Those things exhibited being indicative
Of perspective on the nature of "change."
Good, bad.
It's by an individual basis.
Balance between any individual & its environment
Is essential for that individual to maintain.
At the same time, being a product of its environment,
To what magnitude, if any, does any individual actually have a responsibility to?
It's by an individual basis?
But every species is a part of,
In one way or another,
A collective of that species.
Their effects, how they affect,
Can be counted cumulative.
But it all sure is beautiful.
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 5:27 PM UTC
29-03-2020 23:49
Seven hundred kilometre away from my home,
Constant depressing news each morning,
I in this solitary city of Delhi speculate for the future.
I now feel what it meant to be free,
And what freedom meant for those who were enslaved for thousand years,
And why they fought ****** wars to get it.
It was all bestowed on me and now I realize.
Staying home all day by one's own volition
Is not similar to being ordered to stay home.
But why I complain about the necessity.
When Socrates was asked, "What does a man learn in his life?"
He replied, "Complaining, Glaucon."
I don't know when all of this will subside
What and who will be spared to read this, like I used to read
All the ****** wars in history-
WWI and WWII, recessions, depression.
Now I feel the psyche of people after WWII
And why Existential Philosophy evolved from it.
Going out to buy essentials is like walking on a tight rope
only a touch here and there and you will fall in the abyss.
Yesterday, I heard the news, a man locked for two days came
running down the street naked and bit a woman to death.
Will our psyche be affected by it?
What changes these days will breed in us?
The exodus of migrants are walking back to home amid lockdown
and walking not for 20-30km but 200-600km.
The fear not only of dying with the disease but of hunger, malnutrition is looming in the remote villages.
Turn your neck whichever way,
the talks of this disease everywhere.
How did the dark ages fight the plague?
A few weeks ago, reading the plays of Shakespeare,
I read in the introduction
Theatres were closed for two years because of Black death.
How trivial it looked to me reading from the distance of five hundred years.
But now when I see the cinema, parks, roads, rails, airways, closed in my own world-- I feel the magnitude of loss.
Have we really progressed?
Will the future generations will read this the same way I did?
Yes, Distance dampens the magnitude.
It's pretty late now, perhaps I should sleep now.
This quote
of Whitman is ringing in my head--
"How all times mischoose the objects of their adulation and re-
ward,
And how the same inexorable price must still be paid for the same
great purchase."
Good Night!
Mar 29, 2020
Mar 29, 2020 at 3:07 PM UTC