"subsidize" poems
Growing up my parents were always selfish. They'd rather subsidize tasteful cars than their own child's education so they could prove worthy of societal thinking.
They'd rather finance love through glamorous things instead of investing in actual intimacy.
Maybe if loneliness wasn't my parental figure then this existential adult life wouldn't be spent in monotonous cognitive states
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 9:34 PM UTC
Is it wrong of me to be sexually satisfied,
merely by the expansiveness of your mental capacity?
Intrigued by your complacence.
See, at first you were just this figment of my imagination.
But now you've transcended,
into this complete sensation.
No matter the misconceptions that others may have about you,
I could never replace you.
I could go on and on about the metaphors
that compare you to the sun,
or other gleaming objects.
But really, my attraction for you is far more complex,
to just subsidize you to comparison you probably already met.
I no longer base my relationship on ***
I now seek intelligence,
an intellectual, oratorical genuis - one who knows what the birds say,
why the ocean waves, why society emphasizes self-hate.
And ever since I've sought all of those determining qualities in you,
I've since, loved you.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
Is it just imagination, or
Is Wal-Mart running out of
**** to put on their shelves?
I swear.
(And I intend on cee-ceeing
Elizabeth Warren with this.)
So, you want to do something
About inequality in America?
So, you want to give the working stiffs,
A Fighting Chance,
Is that the name of
Your book, Senator Liz?
I’ve heard it all before:
It’s Hope & Change Redux, Babaloo!
(And don’t get me started on Osama Obama.)
Here’s my plan:
You go aisle to aisle in any Superstore
With a little notepad and pencil.
Every time you see some
Large plastic piece of ****
Realizing they sell
15 million of ‘em every year,
All made by some Dink-Chink in China.
QUESTION: So, what do you do, Mr. Policy Wonk?
ANSWER: Federally-subsidize the
Building & Operation of a plant
Manufacturing that **** right here in Detroit.
Or Atlanta, or Hartford,
Cleveland or Fitchburg,
Or even Oakland,
Where San Francisco poor continue to squeeze.
(Don’t get me started on Urban Gentrification.)
Trust me on this:
AMERICAN JOBS
Will deodorize everything that
Stinks about The Economy.
“Capital Flight Gone Global:
Invest where Labor comes cheap.
Export those American jobs again & again.”
QUESTION: What’s the difference
Between a middle-class person
And a poor person in America?
A middle-class job,
********
But I digress.
I was sharing an observation:
Wal-Mart’s shelves are
Not as luscious, as they once were.
Gaps left for
PINEAPPLE CHUNKS,
With only CRUSHED PINEAPPLE
Cans in stock, e.g.
So much for that On-line,
Real-time,
Instant supply-chain,
Super-duper
Inventory system, Mr. Walton.
Arkansas wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
Was it Mr. Sam?
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:39 PM UTC
The fire that burned everything?
Every single thing I carefully amassed,
My diary of thoughts and poems,
Every song I wrote and my acoustic guitar,
The moments trapped in those photographs,
My cheap telescope my cosmic time machine,
My passport, doctor's note, my social security,
All those drugs I took to stay alive.
I burned my hands trying to extinguish,
Until those little snowflakes assisted,
The clouds of ashes took a while to subsidize,
After I lost everything; what I had I realized,
That beautiful ivory box that you loved,
Something very valuable was kept safe inside,
Only our handpicked set of memories survived.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:12 AM UTC
They speak with such hostility towards my goals
But they're just simply non believers
I stand on top of my sentences with promise and I don't play games
Despite me having a hard time speaking
I come off as slow but I'm simply moving too fast
For someone who is in complete denial of what I have to say
I take pity on those I have hurt
Because I wish I was able to be the only one who was hurt
Too many scratches inside my soul
The Angels couldn't recruit me to protect their threshold until I healed my wounds
But the heart resides and looks for shelter
Two actions at once
I'm a man trying to revert the dagger that I didn't see coming
This blockade of sadness is forthcoming
I must subsidize my qualms and dry my palms
I have too much soot on my hands
I must clean myself before I can be transparent again
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 6:10 AM UTC
Shame, oh shame on you, America!
I swear this is really as low as it gets:
To fail those faithful ones who served you.
How can you do this to our vets?
Oh, you who love to send our soldiers
To fight your battles in a distant land,
And bring them home—injured, rattled—
And then deny them a helping hand
Because we can’t afford the costs
Of meeting the growing number of cases.
You drop off your kids at their private schools
Then go to your clubs and stuff your faces!
Shame, oh shame on you, America,
For ignoring those who’ve sounded the alarm.
Your heedlessness and your thoughtless greed
Have caused our vets irreparable harm.
How sad it is when our veteran facilities,
Choosing to avoid some angry looks,
Solve the problem of limited funds
With the simple approach of cooking the books!
Some vets languish on wait lists for weeks,
Hoping against hope that assistance arrives
Before their frustrations overwhelm them
And they end up taking their lives.
Why aren’t our vets our top priority?
I guess it’s more important that we
Provide huge tax breaks to the wealthy
And subsidize corporations, you see.
Shame, oh shame on you, America!
You’re quick to spend your money on wars,
But slow to help our needy veterans
Here on our vast, indifferent shores!
- by Bob B
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
Been lost in thoughts of what's the cost to do with you and I. A price on life is wrong and that we can't deny. So they subsidize a loss of heart falling apart from eye to eye and all that's left is blood and sweat, and this fire in my eye.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC