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Poems On / About MONEY  7/23/2014 11:01:15 AM
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Best Poems About / On MONEY
 
 
 
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  157.     

I am pissed off

So they planned a reunion
a gathering of friends
a reminiscing of the past
a recollection of who we
once were
wild and carefree
in those
days revolutionaries
burning night candles
immersing trembling feet on the water
just to keep
eyes waking
and then making most of the hay
on those
sun shining days of our lives


and now
earning money
more and more money
though
still honestly



i want to come and be a part of
all of you
rags turning to riches
fools becoming wise
poor to rich guy
children of the farm to
executives in the
city

but i finally got pissed off
when this reunion turns out nothing
but another fund raising
to a fraudulent scheme
(to a certain extend i supposed)

i am telling you
money is always suspicious
and big fortunes have always
crimes behind them

do not tell me that money too
can root out evil
contrary to the common belief
that money is the root of
all evil

shall we debate it, my friend?
hand me the money, so much money, and i will tell you
how i become changed



I am not that kind
who shall bid for the highest donation
and then impress everyone
that i am making good in my present life
and that
i am paying back for all my crimes


P.S.

don't say anything
i am not done yet.
 
RIC S. BASTASA

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  158.     

WALL STREET

On the wall of Facebook of uncertainty
your blog is written-
A Street that swirls to Capitalism.
What to occupy?
Anarchy, Crash, War, or a History?
JP Morgan, Daniel Drew, Jay Gould or the WTO?

Prairie farmers, urban workers middle sizes traders
denounced 'Money Trust';
ultimately trusted money.
Progressive Reformers charged the 'Devil Fish'
degrading democracy;
finally joined to loot the other people's money.
Working -class socialists welcomed the money street
as a transit route toward collective ownership;
now distrusted.

It is not a Chinese wall-street
that encircled the capital
It is an American firewall that
engulfed the world in Seattle.
War came war went Wall Street is high
Capital comes Capital goes
No one can still occupy.
Because Money is Honey, Money is moral
Money can not die
Protest comes and protest goes
Wall Street erects high.
 
vidyut chakraborty

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  159.     

At the Florist.

A Man enters a flower shop 
And chooses some flowers 
The Florist wraps the flowers 
The Man puts his hand in his pocket 
Searching for money 
Money to pay for the Flowers 
But at the same time 
Suddenly 
He puts his hand on his Heart and 
Falls 


At the same time as He falls 
The money falls to the floor 
And then the flowers fall 
At the same time as the man 
At the same time as the money 
And the Florist stands still 
With the falling money 
With the damaged flowers 
With the Dying Man 
Obviously all this is very sad 
And she must do something 
The Florist 
But She dosen't know what to do 
Dosen't know where to start 

There are so many things to do 
With this Man who's Dying 
These damaged Flowers 
And this Money 
This Money rolling 
Which dosen't stop rolling. 


Jacques Prévert- Translation
 
David Holbrook

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  160.     

Herbie The Hermit

Herbie the hermit lived alone
because he felt he needed no one.
He lived his life meagrely
and saved his money frugally.
As the money grew in his bank account,
he began to wonder whom was he going to leave his money to.

Each day the question plagued him
and no answer came his way.
Then one day he met someone
who was much poorer than he.
He lived on the streets, as it was the only life he knew.
He would give his money to him.

However, the man did not want his money,
explaining that he had many friends
worth more than his money could buy.
They are there for me
when I’m down and blue,
picking me up again,
which is more than your money can do.


9-12 December 2010
 
David Harris

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