Poetry (sort of): A World Without Money

Taciturn spirals
it makes
mercurial lyrics
like lakes
fill up the void of time
we spin from a wind’s feather
over and over together,
we go from the remains
and ruins
to sail true towards honest gains.

Just us.
Just us herenow.
What have we lived
long enough to see?

A law lives only for as long
as morality is dead.
Ethics struggle in the face
of a blank mirror…
why can’t we see them
until they are legislated?
Who opened unscrupulous Pandora’s Box
so that my having more,
meant that you must have less?

If kindness must be enforced
and laws are made to protect us from ourselves,
then who is writing them now…
how does not everyone ache
when the same penman writes the laws
and the checks
from the bank he owns,
upon the legal basis of rights
he has conferred
upon himself?
Pandora no longer owns a box.
It’s a hurricane of wants.
Capitalism as a practice
is an excuse
to treat your friend
as an obstacle to wealth,
populations as numbers,
human time as source profit,
children as financial burdens.

Capitalism is proof
of how afraid we are to trust
one another,
to stand together.
When you must purchase assistance
how can it be authentic assistance?
When you must pay someone
before they will help you
do not lull yourself into trusting
that help was freely given.
And the caregiver
what choice have they…
but to try to have enough
that they must charge you
for what they would rather
freely give.
But who can afford to do the right thing
when the right thing is too expensive?
We are all made fools of.
by the same master.

Money has no value
in a world of embodied loving
Love is the natural
opposite of money
for money is the ally
of fear as love
is the result of trust.
This is not a new story.
I cannot wait til we all
trust one another enough
to have empty pockets.
Because the day you must buy something
in order to own something
is the day you have tricked yourself
into believing you own something.
We can never return to the Great Wheel
as long as our eyes spin
with dollar signs.

The window on money
is about to close again…
a world without windows
needs no glassmakers,
will we relearn how
to walk in the open woods?
Will we see that we no longer have
a home in the woods…
but that the woods
are our home?

Does the natural world
remember a name for us
that is kind?

Ah, a thousand ways to
say the wrongness,
so, where to conclude
with some kindness…
will only be used
to calculate how many friends
you have in your village,
the age of the elders
the youth of newborn
the days of the month until
the next celebration,
the volume of fresh waters,
how much food and medicine
is needed where they have none
how many waves were surfed,
blessings at the end of the day,
and ways that you know that those around you,
will always be looking out for you.

A world without money
is the real world
underneath all of our fears,
that love is not real.

About skymeetingtheground

Healer, poet, author, yogi, single father...outdoorsy guy.
This entry was posted in art, bioethics, books, education, environment, Essay, relationship and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Poetry (sort of): A World Without Money

  1. You and the pope are in agreement, Charlie. Me, too.


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