Poems about bank

Your sperm bank
Has recorded N. S. F.
Make deposits,
Don't withdraw.

One must take charge of his or her own life
Someone once wrote that
Life, like marbles block is given to all,
However, everybody doesn't know how to layered such blocks
Even if they read the manuals on life and survival skills
With careful observation, it seem that the local
Women spirit cracks so easily on the small Island of Bim
As the men moves on to other women's
Leaving many on suicidal watch

I visited my old friends, on the island as time permits
And nothing seem to change, they older folks
Weakness still shows:
They lives seem to be on a standstill,

The little island girl in me Grieves within for them
Over the years, I have grown into a stronger woman
I demand respect from my friends,
Especially the men

Its more women and not enough men to fulfill
Their sexual appetites, so life on the island become a sex war,
Infidelity is higher than ever,
Where the flying fish is plentiful
Whereas, some of the women seem so pitiful.

Older men with younger women
The middle-aged women either have to join a church
Or unfortunately,
Lined the walls of the dance hall,
Or pubs
While looking for love in all the wrong places,

The nights slowly moves into the wean hours of the morning
While the Barskeepers promotes the beer three for ten dollars
Snip snaps sounds is heard throughout their establishments
It seems more like humiliation than enjoyment
In the meantime broken hearts merges all over the place

The only patronage that seem to be having a time of
Their lives was the tourists from abroad, who show
Signs of unsteady gaits; but were having a wonderful time
On the Island of Bim

The barbecues grills filterers golden spark,
The music
Entices the air
The salted breeze, balm our lips even
Merging with the taste of the Bank beers,
And it was all well
On the island for that short period.
However, with all my finding and frustration, nothing
Can beat cold, cold coconut water
Or a refreshing Bank Beer

On moonlit heath and lonesome bank
The sheep beside me graze;
And yon the gallows used to clank
Fast by the four cross ways.

A careless shepherd once would keep
The flocks by moonlight there,
And high amongst the glimmering sheep
The dead man stood on air.

They hang us now in Shrewsbury jail:
The whistles blow forlorn,
And trains all night groan on the rail
To men that die at morn.

There sleeps in Shrewsbury jail to-night,
Or wakes, as may betide,
A better lad, if things went right,
Than most that sleep outside.

And naked to the hangman's noose
The morning clocks will ring
A neck God made for other use
Than strangling in a string.

And sharp the link of life will snap,
And dead on air will stand
Heels that held up as straight a chap
As treads upon the land.

So here I'll watch the night and wait
To see the morning shine,
When he will hear the stroke of eight
And not the stroke of nine;

And wish my friend as sound a sleep
As lads' I did not know,
That shepherded the moonlit sheep
A hundred years ago.

There is sperm for sale and wombs for rent
For same sex couples it's cash well spent.
While heterosexuals breed their own
Gay couples, as yet, cannot clone.
A lesbian couple who had the itch
Is suing their sperm bank for “bait and switch”.
They wanted a Caucasian baby
And had requested sperm from vial “380”.
The donor of that sperm was white,
Handsome, smart, just “not their type”
They were given another's sperm instead
And an interracial child was bred.
It seems they were given vial “330”
The vials, it seems, were marked unclearly.
An honest mistake by a nearsighted boomer? -
Or one with a twisted sense of humor?
A civil suit will go to trial
Seeking damages for a mixed race child.
If their motion to dismiss should meet denial
The “bank” will suffer premature withdrawal.
In which event bankruptcy looms
For the bank that supplies the sperm for wombs.

The steady thrum of nothingness
Where daily you run round the wheel
Getting nowhere but sleep
To wake to the hum and thrum
The thrum of "Good day" "Hello"
"How are you"?
I am trying not to fall as my feet scramble
-keeping up with the speed of the wheel
As it turns at a speed I can hardly keep up"
Well keep going, have you tried getting a loan?
What about insuring someone and hoping they die pretty quick?
A bank robbery? Writing a poem that sets the world on fire?

When Dracula went to the blood bank,
He thoroughly flustered the staff,
For rather than make a donation,
He drew out a pint and a half.

I get that you just want to believe,
And that's fine if it gives you a reprieve,
From the wicked ways of the world unseen,
But you've got to look at these fellows,
And see which way the wind really blows!

There ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a spirit,
But sure as hell when someone crushes you in it,
And drains yer wallet for all its worth,
Back to the zero of your moment of birth.

"You ain't good enough! "
They tell ya,
So you write another check,
And scream another heck,
For what?

"Enlightenment"

And all for things you could have gotten with glee,
For free,
For free,
By talkin' to me.

Depression is having a completely normal day,
Equipped with teacher's mask and a jovial eccentricity
To keep the students bubbling,
Only to leave the train station and catch a glimpse
Of a girl with pink hair -
And just for a few seconds you think it's her,
And she's with somebody else.
Not ditching you for her own mental health,
But ditching you because you're not worthy
(Which is true. )
Ditching you because you couldn't be trusted.
Ditching you because you did something wrong.
And the thirty minute walk home
Seems to take forever longer,
And your stomach pounds and aches
And scrambles to be free of your body.
It craves her like every other part of you -
Your aching brain, your aching hands,
Your aching, aching heart.
You get home and you just want the world to
Swallow you up -
"There's a letter for you. "
Maybe it's the citizenship,
Maybe today I catch a break,
An escape from the feelings of emptiness
Pounding my head.
An escape from the feelings of heartbreak,
The anxious catacombs of my brain
Poisoning my beating heart.
Your graduate account is being terminated.
From November you will pay bank charges.
Completely inconsequential.
Not a lot of money.
Why did I start drinking
And why can I not stop crying?