"usurious" poems
I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
After I pay off my school loans
Whenever my banker pleases
To let me out of the contract
With its usurious interest fees
And I am sure I will get there
When I am down on my knees.
I’ll have my Republican Bible
With its verses edited wisely
To exempt all the white folk
From behaving quite nicely
And making sure welfare
Is only for rich white neighbors
The rest are not allowed in
Our society except as laborers.
I am sure that Republican Jesus
Will welcome me quite warmly
For supporting the death toll
Of our Christian Soldier army.
He will be so delighted that
We vilified ungodly abortions
And how we treated those awful
Poor mothers and their orphans.
He will have to be delighted
That we held back the riches
We gained from our warfare
Ignoring our soldiers in ditches
Or maimed in those battles
We know you wanted us to wage
In the name of Republican Jesus
Out of our holy sense of rage.
Republican Jesus surely will
See how cleverly we diverted
The money to the richest people
Not the soldiers we deserted.
And, how only the people who
Did not need help financially
Got all the extra wealth we had
And we made sure of it annually.
I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
And I’m sure greed and bigotry
Will just tickle him to pieces
Because it says in the Bible
The only people who will get in
Are the people that look like me
And vote for all the same men.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
After I pay off my school loans
Whenever my banker pleases
To let me out of the contract
With its usurious interest fees
And I am sure I will get there
When I am down on my knees.
I’ll have my Republican Bible
With its verses edited wisely
To exempt all the white folk
From behaving quite nicely
And making sure welfare
Is only for rich white neighbors
The rest are not allowed in
Our society except as laborers.
I am sure that Republican Jesus
Will welcome me quite warmly
For supporting the death toll
Of our Christian Soldier army.
He will be so delighted that
We vilified ungodly abortions
And how we treated those awful
Poor mothers and their orphans.
He will have to be delighted
That we held back the riches
We gained from our warfare
Ignoring our soldiers in ditches
Or maimed in those battles
We know you wanted us to wage
In the name of Republican Jesus
Out of our holy sense of rage.
Republican Jesus surely will
See how cleverly we diverted
The money to the richest people
Not the soldiers we deserted.
And, how only the people who
Did not need help financially
Got all the extra wealth we had
And we made sure of it annually.
I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
And I’m sure greed and bigotry
Will just tickle him to pieces
Because it says in the Bible
The only people who will get in
Are the people that look like me
And vote for all the same men.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
Flow through,
trickle down
Bubble up ~
keep your head up.
Don't think,
don't blink
Just got to tighten those purse strings
and see what that brings
as usurious hedging
grows into a bigger thing.
Are we hitting the Wall
while Street fighting Bears?
Are we wrestling the Bull
while waiting for a Soprano to sing?
Ain't no one ringing that bell
as far as I can tell.
So I am knowing, seeing, raising
IOU's
and paying it forward into
a restructured karmic debt
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 2:22 AM UTC
For every hour that thou wilt spare me now
I will allow,
Usurious God of Love, twenty to thee,
When with my brown my gray hairs equal be;
Till then, Love, let my body reign, and let
Me travel, sojourn, ****** plot, have, forget,
Resume my last year’s relic: think that yet
We’had never met.
Let me think any rival’s letter mine,
And at next nine
Keep midnight’s promise; mistake by the way
The maid, and tell the Lady of that delay;
Only let me love none, no, not the sport;
From country grass, to comfitures of Court,
Or cities quelque choses, let report
My mind transport.
This bargain’s good; if when I’m old, I be
Inflamed by thee,
If thine own honour, or my shame, or pain,
Thou covet most, at that age thou shalt gain.
Do thy will then, then subject and degree,
And fruit of love, Love I submit to thee;
Spare me till then, I’ll bear it, though she be
One that loves me.
1.3k
With holes in pockets
Can we buy?
Gain truth from
The lips that lie?
Without ever asking
Why?
Is guidance in
A folded map?
Wealth within
Bottle cap?
Does fine champagne
Come on tap?
Does knowledge come
From books fast closed?
Water from a frozen hose?
Motion from a
Locked up gear?
Faith from gurus
Full of fear?
Can oil flow
From stoppered jars?
Travel made in totaled cars?
Peace be won from
World War?
Calculating sums from nil
For naught we pay
Usurious bills
No winning wars where
*ALL are killed
The wind listeth
where it will...*
We beard the lion
In his lair
Close the pane
To breathe the air.
SøułSurvivør
5/23/2017
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
Who are you? Self awareness is very tricky.
You’re very complicated, we all are,
people are the most complicated things
we encounter in our everyday lives.
Now imagine two complicated people together.
We manage this complexity by limiting each other,
with social contracts, to limit usurious behaviours.
If we abide by the contracts things are simplified.
Part of that is being polite - you don’t want a complex,
bank teller, dentist or policeman - our society runs
on simple transactions - perhaps 10 for each of us daily.
The wild card is emotion - that’s why *** is so tricky.
Do you want to depend on an emotional doctor
or be stopped by a really emotional policeman?
I think not.
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 1:24 PM UTC
Blank minds offer anathema
The usurious are sainted
Devout all unknowing
Indoctrinate fragmental ribonuclease
Intentional homogenization
Transfection for incomprehension
Idiocracy I like it willing slaves
and none the wiser
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
More of a man at 20 than at 22
All of the passages about One, there were no others
Regressing into sin, no art without misery
That old cliche, right? Right.
I read somewhere that he wanted to be a writer
He wanted to be a great writer, Remembered
Taking, making great sacrifices for art
Alcohol, Benzedrine, Isolation
Checkmate, One and Two and Three
The night (this night) will be my Desolation Peak
For now,
Looking back through the pages
Who exists in this manuscript?
Who is Marg?
Who is Sil?
Won’t you please tell me?
Won’t you come fill my Head. I’m not asking
Won’t you come fill my bed?
So I need not pretend
Were it that I could let you in
Save for those rare times when everyone appears not unctuous
To my uneasy usurious eyes
In an act of desperate atavism I return to the roots,
To the past, to the Grass,
(Looking)
To the glass
Only momentarily half empty
Before it is refilled
Where will we find our answers honey?
When will we cease to believe this positive psychology ********
You don’t need to be happy
You don’t need to be comfortable
You need to Mean
to have
Meaning
to create a legacy
Not shrouded in shame
and neglect
and fear
It doesn’t have to be the same
New city, new hope, new name
Erase the stain with pen and paper
Evoke change
See the world through baby blue eyes
The bucolic beauty brilliantly beats and beads down, blooming
Bright flowers in early mildew sunlight
Or Big Sur - view from the mountains
Or the moon
Soon my love, soon
Swoon, sweetly suggest
The sight of a lover’s supple *******
And her name like poetry on your soft still whispering lips
Tantalizing and tickling tongues
Tickling and tucking shyly
Soft skin swimming in hushed tones, brushed bones and quiet sighs
Wide eyed, clenching belies
The beginning and the end of far more
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
No one may contest that a contract existed
Between my client and the respondent;
This much is beyond debate,
Nor did the plaintiff in any way compel
This miller’s-daughter-cum-queen in any manner,
Unless one contends that providing a vehicle
To obtain all that she had ever desired
Somehow equates to coercion.
As to my learned colleague’s claim
That the imposition of so-called usurious terms by my client
Serves to render the agreement null and void,
May I remind you that at no point in this affair
Did the respondent decline to accept the quid pro quo;
Indeed, she happily re-negotiated the terms of the very pact
She now seeks to vacate!
Ah, opposing counsel claims, *my client fulfilled the agreement
In accordance with the law*.
I must say, rather sadly,
I find my distinguished friend’s definition of fulfillment
Very odd, indeed, as if the employment of industrial espionage,
Illegal trespass, surveillance methods of dubious legitimacy
(All of which were undertaken
To surreptitiously provide his client with such information
To exercise the out-clause of the agreement)
Is something the court should embrace
As a matter of statute or accepted practice.
Again, members of the jury, I know where your sympathies lie.
All along , opposing counsel has implied
We should celebrate his client’s pluckiness,
Her cunning and initiative,
Her stunning journey from rages to riches.
My friends, I would argue this;
There is, indeed, a moral to every story,
Are our obligations and promises, at the end of the day,
No more than the interview portion of some beauty pageant,
Where long blonde hair and a winning smile
Serve as just cause to blithely disregard those oaths?
Are the most sacred of vows
Less binding upon those whom Nature and the mirror
Have favored more so than those among us
Who are among the unattractive and underloved?
Ladies and gentlemen, it is up to you
To write the final chapter of our fable.
I thank you for your service.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 3:53 PM UTC
The misfortunate will have their revenge in the first world,
until the hammer of money is toppled and unforced,
and the overlabouring encounters empathy,
until "freedom rings" over every hill and mountain in the third section of the globe and finally
the mind of avoidance in the nature of reality outcries the devil in revelation,
until then will this retribution be forethoughted.
Will you then— my pale brother listen to the voiceless?
Would you ask and then act? Give reason to the repress?
Would you feed
and clothe
and would bathe and still loathe? And would you continue to **** me?
Would you follow the way of inferior, preposterous, unintellectual, usurious, for the sake of an elusive triumphant state?
Would you continue wearing your boots and feasting on tea,
and remembering the wars and like a hawk hunting your senseless view on humanity?
If you are my God's creation, then who am I to you?
Allow me then to say to you, that your void is to be filled with the infinite and the sublime,
and that not the earthly and mankind.
That your constitution may be molded to your heart and not you to the constitution.
And that you always capacitate yourself of feelings deeply of any injustice committed against anyone, anywhere in the world.
Because of this last one, is the most beautiful
of the internal independence, revolution, and love immutable.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
methods fettered, advantages and breaks
extended, insults and numinous presences of pagans crept
craven idolatry ascribable degrees of rivalry kept
intensified, superordinate to unsatisfiable desires and anorectic shakes
stigmatised, wishes leading to perpetual astonishment, quakes
caused, centuries for a variety of relations acknowledged accept
altered limits, bounds of appropriation are overstepped
and eliminated, forms of every truth from different takes
are completed, esoteric states, totally upheld
a verdict of ****** reasonable risks, general history framed
and shared, shares of fully repeated trades
are allocated, limitedly missed usurious beginnings unparalleled
in cruel relations with transient rules proclaimed
with theoretical ideas, properties of a black jade
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC