Fifty years ago wealth was stored and transmitted physically through gold bars, stock certificates, bank notes, and coins.
quote by Scott Cook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treasured
Treasure is a lovely love, a built book,
One of the heavens contains the treasure.
Treasure forbade me to truly become you,
Understanding the gold and silver is becoming clear.
Let golden items sway, let gold become heavenly
By being money and wealth of a man in reign.
The money colder is the money touched;
Anywhere you go, is the silver being rich?
Let coins be coins as far as the eyes glance,
The body I suffer shall happen to be in the river of gold.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dross coins and wealth
i.
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
You wallow in them
You think of them again, again
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
One even grey a blank vacant sterility.
ii.
Round the green hill
The rivulet glideth:
The birds flieth
The owl singeth
How happy is the earth to-day!
iii.
From the small dale
The shepherd voice ariseth
Into a sweet canticle
As the day falleth
As the red dusk cometh
And night in mantle dark
By the next dale is coming
Coming fast:
Coming fast
Like sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Welcome sleep
The night cometh
The skies are darkening:
The stars are twinkling
And one by one
Coming like Morpheus with his wand
Into the next sleep beginning
The eye-lids how drowsy lie
And flicker like torch-lights
Slowly
Slowly
Slowly
Mor pheus is breathing slow
His hot and wanton breath
Over my forehead:
So sleep cometh, welcome sleep.
And dream I with open eyes
And through the night
Look I upon the stars in sleep
And dreaming wake and waking dream again.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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The death certificate
The commendation certificates,
The graduation certificates,
The experience certificates
And the birth certificate
Are dead when death certificate is born.
04.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Rich or Poor
With thy true love I have more wealth
Than Charon's piled-up bank doth hold;
Where he makes kings lay down their crowns
And life-long misers leave their gold.
Without thy love I've no more wealth
Than seen upon that other shore;
That cold, bare bank he rows them to -
Those kings and misers made so poor.
poem by William Henry Davies
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When goods are exchanged between countries, they must be paid for by commodities or gold. They cannot be paid for by the notes, certificates, and checks of the purchaser's country, since these are of value only in the country of issue.
quote by Carroll Quigley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden Bird, Painted Black
From beginning I heard
India was a golden bird,
Mughals, Britishers arrived
Looted wealth and destroyed
As she had wealth natural
Precious stones and pearl
Real gold, range of mineral
And knowledge of spiritual.
Hard work of noble citizens
Has mounted wealth again
But many citizens still feel pity
They are to live below poverty.
The amount involved in scams
Amount brought to Swiss bank,
Can run India totally tax free,
Not less the decades of three.
As said hundred trillion rupees
Is deposited in banks of Swiss,
Mere interest at Indian bank rate,
Can change poor people’s fate.
People below poverty can
Easily get per capita income.
India was a bird of gold,
India is still a bird of gold
But in black, it is painted
Her worthyness is dented.
If this black is removed,
Will again shine like gold.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Genetics is about how information is stored and transmitted between generations.
quote by John M. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two guys on the bus
Two guys talk on the bus
and are convinced that fifty rand for four,
very expensive
and plan a day
to take their collected change
with backpacks to the bank
and I wonder
if with bank charges
they will earn any interest
at the bank.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Tears of Memory
Descried the mum who
blazed my mind fifty years back.
The stored memory
flowed down from our eyes sparkled once.
Smiled, shook hands but be silent!
-------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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That Fifty Year Old Woman
That fifty year old woman
she is someones mother
that fifty year old woman
she is someones lover
them fifty years of her life
unseen by a cover.
Covered by the leaves
from the autumn trees is the grass
surrounded by blue tape
and nosey people who pretend to pass
a group of actors walk by
they have come from a history class
to make history new
with conversation with questions to ask.
A fifty year old woman
in an autumn so cold
a fifty year old woman
seen dark winter unfold
them fifty years of life
it is all we are told.
The actors, they didn't get any information
they did not get pictures
nothing known about the situation
nothing at all to discuss
fifty years of age is all thats said
on the morning paper on the fifty bus
thats all thats said
a fifty year old woman, shes found dead.
That fifty year old woman
shes not someones mother
that fifty year old woman
how she had no lover
them fifty years of life
unseen by a cover.
That fifty year old woman
she was quoted in the paper today
that fifty year old woman will be gone tomorrow
the writers they will show no sorrow
because its the way things work
as people pass
she no longer lies on grass
shes covered in dirt.
poem by Daniel McCann
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Wealth From Misery
What is gold really worth?
When people die from it on this Earth.
Now gold is just a another rock,
why is the price so high on it's stock?
Humans are not as highly evolved
if we give it some thought.
This would not happen on highly evoled
planet—not in a million years-
It does not get US to where We Are Going
I'm sorry gold millionaires.
Especially if women are being raped, children are being killed,
what for so you can put more money in your till?
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Riches
I have no riches but my thoughts,
Yet these are wealth enough for me;
My thoughts of you are golden coins
Stamped in the mint of memory;
And I must spend them all in song,
For thoughts, as well as gold, must be
Left on the hither side of death
To gain their immortality.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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A Letter To A Friend,
As in some wealthy, trading Town,
Where Riches raise to fure Renown,
The Man, with ample Sums in Store,
More than enough, yet wanting more,
Bent on Abundance, first secures
His Rails, his Windows, and his Doors,
With many a Chain, and Bolt, and Pin.
To keep Rogues out, and Riches in;
Ranges his Iron Chests in View,
And paints his Window Bars with Blue;
Discounts your Notes, receives your Rents,
A Banker now, to all Intents.
Suppose his more successful Labours
Should raise him high above his Neighbours:
As sure, as if Apollo said it,
They'll all combine to blast his Credit:
But if, in solid Wealth secure,
Their vain Assaults he can endure;
Their Malice but augments his Gain,
And swells the Store it meant to drain.
The Case in ev'ry Point's the same,
In Funds of Wealth, and Funds of Fame:
Tho' you're secur'd by ev'ry Fence
Of solid Worth, and Wit, and Sense;
In vain are all your utmost Pains,
Your Virtue's Bars, and Wisdom's Chains;
Nor Worth, nor Wit, nor Sense, combin'd,
Can bar the Malice of the Mind.
The firmest, and the fairest Fame
Is ever Envy's surest Aim:
But if it stand her Rage, unmov'd,
Like Gold, in fiery Furnace prov'd;
Unbiass'd Truth, your Virtues Friend,
Will more exalt you in the End.
poem by Mary Barber
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Fragments - Lines 0183 - 0192
Among rams and asses and horses, Kyrnos, we look for those
Of noble breeding, and a man wants them to mate
From worthy stock. Yet a noble man does not mind marrying
A base woman of base birth if she brings him money in abundance,
Nor does a woman shrink from becoming the wife of a base man
With wealth; she prefers a rich husband to a worthy one.
Money is what they honor; the noble weds a base man's daughter,
The base a worthy man's: wealth mixes stock.
Thus do not be amazed, son of Polypaos, that the citizen's stock
Is growing feeble, for what is noble is being mixed with what is base.
Fifty Years Of Marriage
With dye and hair colouring they cover their gray
Their fifty years of marriage they celebrate today
Through fifty years of marriage they have argued their way
In their love hate relationship one well might say.
Their better days one can say for them are long gone
And they age without grace though time is ticking on
Their children are grand-parents and the years on them show
Since they too are ageing and their fastest pace slow.
Fifty happy years together by some we are told
But others who know them well and with their words more bold
Will tell you they never did see eye to eye
But why they stay together one must wonder why.
They have stayed together for so many years
One can hardly say of them the lovely old dears
Since they both are quite quarrelsome and grumpy as well
Perhaps without quarrels life for them would be hell.
Fifty years together and the same bed they share
Yet even in public places at each other they swear
Such marriages as their's suppose never were rare
They are not the World's only dysfunctional pair.
Today their descendants will celebrate the marriage of their Pop and Gran
And applaud this wonderful woman and man
But the truth of their marriage they will never tell
How they seem to enjoy giving each other hell.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My God Is Special
I am physically blind...
But oh God, thanks be to you for your spiritual sight.
I am physically deaf...
But oh God, thanks be to you that
Iam able to hear your sweet, sweet voice.
I physically cannot speak...
But God, thaks be to you for knowing
And understanding all my needs.
I physically cannot walk...
But oh God, thanks be to you for leading
And guiding me in your righteous way.
Thanks be to you oh God, for letting me know
That I am special.
Because you are special to me.
poem by Evelyn Clayborn
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My God Is Special
I am physically blind...
But oh God, thanks be to you for your spiritual sight.
I am physically deaf...
But oh God, thanks be to you that
Iam able to hear your sweet, sweet voice.
I physically cannot speak...
But God, thaks be to you for knowing
And understanding all my needs.
I physically cannot walk...
But oh God, thanks be to you for leading
And guiding me in your righteous way.
Thanks be to you oh God, for letting me know
That I am special.
Because you are special to me.
Evelyn Clayborn
poem by suchul Jin
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I used to think that cyberspace was fifty years away. What I thought was fifty years away, was only ten years away. And what I thought was ten years away... it was already here. I just wasn't aware of it yet.
quote by Bruce Sterling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Middle Aged Lovers, I
Unable to bear
the uncertainty
of the future,
we consulted seers,
mediums, stock market gurus,
psychics who promised
happiness on this
or another planet,
astrologists of love,
seekers of the Holy Grail.
Looking for certainty
we asked for promises,
lover's knots, pledges, rings,
certificates, deeds of ownership,
when it was always enough
to let your hand
pass over my body,
your eyes find the depths of my own,
and the wind pass over our faces
as it will pass
through our bones,
sooner than we think.
The current is love,
is poetry,
the blood beat
in the thighs,
the electrical charge
in the brain.
Our long leap
into the unknown
began nearly
a half century ago
and is almost
over.
I think of the
amphorae of stored honey
at Paestum
far out-lasting
their Grecian eaters,
or of the furniture
in a pharoah's tomb
on which
no one sits.
Trust the wind,
my lover,
and the water.
They have the
answers
to all your questions
and mine.
poem by Erica Jong
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Gold!
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled,
Heavy to get and light to hold,
Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold,
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled,
Spurned by young, but hung by old
To the verge of a church yard mold;
Price of many a crime untold.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Good or bad a thousand fold!
How widely it agencies vary,
To save - to ruin - to curse - to bless -
As even its minted coins express :
Now stamped with the image of Queen Bess,
And now of a bloody Mary.
poem by Thomas Hood
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