Money in the Trash Can


Spent time running rhyme about feelings, how I stand…high school, what folks thought before I

All these spoils bought no peace..this wicked road..

left to cross the land..what is real what not, honor true for me, who is sold or bought, who aspires to be free..

Down in Mexico..Sineloa way, learned about difference aint a rainy washout day..seen folks born into fates to make dirt from sand..no matter where I traveled good to have some cash on hand..

Saw two men talking quiet huddled L.A. way..on the Eastside in an alley, were not dressed that way..intense they appeared I sensed like a bear to honey..no way today these bees can stop me from that money..

I imagined what there was in leather briefcase brown..the argument was where they would hide it while in town..I became impatient with their henhouse bicker drawl..I wanted what was there buy cars, take women to the mall..

Fifteen minutes passed in the alley short below..a kitchen window where a neighbor saw their bicker show..then she saw me watching..kind of turned her red..she made a noise, lost her poise, window slipped hit her head..men talking faster kind of comic now..like high school girls would relate appeared to ‘have a cow’..one of them took the case like some kind of man..quickly looked around put it in an old trash can..

Waiting for a moment quiet when they left..separate, one smart, sneaky the other macho, deft.. I walked across the alley, my dreams upon cashland, with purpose found in greed I strode to, opened the trash can..grabbed the case smile on my face, never run in fear, cool, no fool, been to that school, ‘get hat’ away from here, met an old friend business wise some advance degree, told him ‘of  millions.. for needy.. you and me’..

The end of story did not come..for money does buy time..I lost my way, as some would say, lost sense of writing rhyme..the moral comes, scholar or bum, doctor or wino true, money like a suit of clothes simply fit the due..

Beyond in boring yawn time.. done so much before..money sad or funny takes you to successes door..more you have..more you want..always been that way..like high school days..impressions maze..of what folks have to say..

Thought..  

Purpose poses as peace..peace never found in money.. for money is not purpose beyond a haunting taunt.. echoing distrust and greed.. as it hides old friends who fear what they may want..

Acceptance of what is..to build well is a true step toward inner peace.. one truth to build truth.. a billion sales pitch lies to build nothing.. for nothing dreams in lies.. 

Peace Tony

©AC.dp.31.5.11.allrightsreserved.wpls

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About cryinforthedyin

I write philosophy and poetry. I postulate solutions for problems..I find similiar things in history to compare to present day, hoping to find a solution to the seemingly difficult task of giving and receiving love. I play music. Blues harp, piano, guitar, electric and acoustic. I sing..I love to sing..Peace Tony
This entry was posted in Ability to Recognize, ACLU, Amnesty International, City Life, Delusion, Denial, FEAR, Freedom, Greed, Love, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Money in the Trash Can

  1. Reblogged this on Cryinforthedyin's Blog and commented:

    Perspective true is the consistency life needs to flourish.. grow.. Peace Tony

    Like

  2. akamonsoon says:

    Another great one Tony. I could picture everything going on in that alley.

    Like

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