Profit and loss sheets are spread
separated by hyperboles and conjectures
upon my desktop and the poverty of my brain
As I try to amass some common sense approach
To what it all means to me
Reduced receivables don't add up
and one must make the deductions
for the ever rising cost of raw materials
Discount specials on an inventory of older dreams
I seem to have forgotten my humble beginnings
When I loved Life and not the Dollar....
it seems as if the gray line between black and white has blurred over time.
You'll find it Ted, take deep breaths, click your heals together twice, close your eyes, and for a moment, go back to that time and grab some peace from there....No good with the Math so can't advice there. This is a most interesting and compelling read. hugs, marci~~~
A scathing attack on consumerism at the expense of a good fruitful life without hate.. good poem with a more than money appeal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Can't speak for your bank account, but your brain is certainly operating at a profit level that would make The Dow proud.~~marci.xo