Sunday, June 8, 2008

Two More Poems of upon what no money be growing but

Had To

I had to
Take of my
Buy two
Shoes three
Style four
My five
Are you
That who
Exchanged the hat
Of nobody’s fame
For having to blame
Is that your game is too lame
To be bothered with trying to tame
But I had to
Realise it near all the same
That its defeat not meek
But by you unrecognised
Because it is not through my blaming
You that your own style
Of way is to
Inform my own dreamtime
Of all you have been unto


Matched Unto

The hot water surround
Of the deepest my ground
Are where Satan’s footprint’s abound
Yet in my own Dreams
Always let down
By Jesus preparing the road around
So when you discover
I was matched to another
Who was wrongly blamed for
Wanting me barefoot and all
Simply only because
I own a monopoly
On trading and exchanging
The real labour value
Embedded in capital
That the social labour value
Though me is
Its own independent economy
Without need to fight for the wages
That be at all times paid by failures
To for all men provide
So why might I
Accept of the money
Being paid only to me
Through being enabled by
Pursuing fears in another of poverty
When the Bible tells us not to and
While I fear not having no money
Thus thanks to all who have helped me
Into this pensionable category
But if it was for you want to define me
As lacking real capability
To mother my children more perfectly
Than any other mother will ever be able to be
The learn I have found
That evidence abounds
Against those whose corruption bound
Me into this game in the first place
Whereupon when at 33 when I entered the race
It has been to discover that the real face
Of child protection
Was never what any money upon
But that for money’s use in real providence
To the sanctity of childhood belongs
Every cent of
But possible only by the understanding of why it is
That if you blame any failure towards children
In any family at all
By what upon you spend your money
And how you account for its sum being
A way that the rich bribe the poor
Into covering over how child abuse has no door
For if you are blaming
The failure in any family
When you spend of your money
Why then be your money
That which is persecuting
The child
By accusing the future
In which you hoped to profit from
As having the continuation
Of reason to blame of
Anybody not perfectly behaved towards
The children whose game thus this is
While real protection be found
In money that abounds
By refusing to get rich upon
What needs no increases of
So in the money I salvage
From economies so blinded
As to be blaming the child through
Accusing parents of failing to
Might you
Prefer to learn
Of my own dollar value
Having every saved worth in
What aspects of economic stability
Continue once after
The forests replanted
Electricity and fossil fuels use
Drastically diminished
Until eventually
Not needed at all
So if you’ve been blamed for
Wanting my game and its score
Know only
You need believe me
To not in social value become poor
For the real money score
Has permanently labour’s worth underscored
So to the work that is worth
This game of nobody’s fame
But the story in heaven made all the same
Don’t be shy again
Of denying wrong blame
But remember forever
I mothered whose game
And will say who is inside its way
No matter how many children they have taken away
And how many men refused to play
With motherhood’s day
In which never one cent held
Against my own children may
But try and I’ll take you to hell for a whirl
With the beasts I met there a terrible girl
Yet whose work has been worth
In time more than this verse
And that it matched unto
My own shoes
Who but will do unto

3 comments:

CHARLAX said...

blow mye trump
raise the dead
eye left a shoes
with needed laces
gave them up
for charity places
how many people
need new feet
wear my shoes
make me neat

usually named Curaezipirid when in the internet said...

Well I'll be read
These feet not cheap
Have too slept at times
Upon the street

Though not for sweet
Charity's pleats
Was the old man accompanying
Nicer than . . .

And home bitten throne
Be my never ending phone
Call to God's love among
The street people's throng

Of work to belong
In somebody's shoes
Best be they yours
Than no charity blues

So thanks for those
Whenever in my own
Your feet show known
The simplest tome

usually named Curaezipirid when in the internet said...

Be mine alone
The worth of those
Whose tricks too quick
For the Godly known

Yet that no man
Could yet have placed
The real worth to the right body
Have the ants won that race

Only to find
That the win begins
To be bound with chagrin
Until worth no flagon

Not glassy eyed known