Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Category Archives: Greed

THE MAN WHO MISTOOK JESUS FOR AN A.T.M.

And he makes a good living
Preaches the Gospel of Abundance
like it’s all about actual money

Mistakes manna for mammon
Money managers for martyrs when they
lose it all in the latest crash

Dave says the poor have bad habits
Tosses Bible verses like piñata candy to the
starving, staring sycophants who pay for the privilege

Dave is so white in his chambray shirt
(Get it, he’s a blue-collar guy with
a blue-blood bank account, all cash)

But being white is a given in his world
Because Jesus was clearly a white Christian
who whispered the Holy Password to Dave

Dave can unlock the Vault for y’all
But first, like it was with the Pharisees, you have to
change your money at the temple door and

sacrifice to a False Idol in denim

© 2015 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads gave us Oliver Sacks; rather, his titles serve as a jumping-off point for our poems today. YES! While I will always question the presumed wisdom of psychiatrists, there is room for a little Dr. Sacks in my world. Of course, it was The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat that caught my eye.

Dave Ramsay is a shyster who once had some very good ideas about paying down debt, but that quickly morphed into a pseudo-preaching addiction. We took a seminar, and it helped, but there was a lot of Fundie crap to ignore. And Dave himself, a blowhard of the first degree… who would not recognize White Privilege if it bit him on his Dockers.

I was going to write something along the lines of The Candidate Who Mistook Me For Someone Who Gives a Shit, but the Republicans have gotten too much ink…

Amy


Peace, the Unknown Commodity

Our world has been at war
since the eighth decade. EIGHTH

Constant bickering plus weapons
equals humans either dead or “victorious”

Where is the victory in bloody children
lying in the street next to their dead mothers?

Will it take violent protest to end war?
That would be quite ironic, but

marching hasn’t done it; even Lennon’s
music was decried as hippie drivel

All we are saying is give peace a chance
And yet the war machine goes on

A peaceful world takes LOVE and respect
A peaceful world means children go to school

A peaceful world means women are not battered
and adults are given meaningful work

In a peaceful world, the Halliburton crew
and Blackwater would have spare time.

Perhaps they could work on clean energy
and free health care for Americans instead

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Image courtesy of WikiMedia Commons

I know I wrote more about war than peace, but let’s face it, folks. As long as Stale Pale Males (emphasis on stale, as in same old crap) are large and in charge of the military/industrial complex; as long as we are dependent on fossil fuels; and, of course, as long as there are “American Interests” abroad, we will never know peace. “American Interests” is a catch phrase that does not mean people – it means Starbucks in Baghdad and McDonald’s in every nation! Beware the sound byte.

This is for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads’ “Blog 4 Peace” highlight. I am so proud to be a “Toad” and to take part in this wonderful cause. I’m also posting this for dverse Open Mic Tuesday.  Peace, Amy


So sick yesterday I didn’t post. Now THAT’S illness at its worst!

Today, I pay tribute to that nesting place of computer-surfing, caffeine-addicted folks everywhere. Me, I prefer local bean, but lots of people love the taste of burnt coffee… perhaps the laptops distract them from the taste? (Ok, if you are a confirmed Starbucker, I won’t go all WalMart on your ass, I promise!!) Amy

Laptopia (Ode to Starbuck’s, haiku)

Baristas, big lungs:
CARAMEL LATTE EXTRA
FOAM SKINNY UP HERE

Ladies who lunch ne’er
linger long here; they prefer
linen and light fare

Day trading greedy
lucre lizards, looking for
elusive landslides

© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil


Meaning no disrespect to The Reason For The Season; simply pointing out that most folks have all but forgotten why they celebrate Christmas in the first place. My one cynical Christmas poem, dedicated to the true memory of that feisty, loving, prophetic man who started out a babe in rags.

HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY

Have yourself a merry little American Christmas
where mall-bound mauling marauding shoppers claw for
the latest imported Chinese toys
lead-laced crap for girls and boys

O little town of Bethlehem
creeping with hordes of consumers
No visions of Visa bills dancing in their heads
They’re masters of their MasterCards

Mary, did you know your baby boy
has turned into an excuse for excess
for booming business, parental stress
the backbone of a spineless economy

Joy to the world! The Lord & Taylor window
has a “holiday display” with Santa and reindeer
Deck the hall with Hallmarks from family and friends
and other folks we forget about the rest of the year

A day to plow through a thousand presents
overturn overstuffed stockings
stuff ourselves til we crash in front of
the new 52-inch plasma TV we bought on credit
It’s a wonderful life

Crosby Christmas never ceases
but for God’s sake
please don’t mention Jesus

© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil