Cash (an acrostic poem)

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f9/Money_Cash.jpg/1024px-Money_Cash.jpg

Couldn’t spend his money fast enough

All the things were needed, and they were needed yesterday

So when he went to check out, he was short the amount needed

He looked to his mom.  She sighed and pulled out her credit card. Happy birthday?

Graft (an acrostic poem)

Image: i.etsystatic.com/28921914/r/il/bd5492/3862000243/il_fullxfull.3862000243_ifud.jpg

Giving money away like it was going out of style

Reaching deep into their wallet to make everything happen

And boy did they.  They were a walking talking party

From sunup till way past sundown, sometimes for twenty-four hours straight

Then one day their aunt realized where her money was going, and he suddenly had none.

Lottery (an acrostic poem)

Living day to day, depending on his luck for sustenance

Orbiting his need for money and his need to be creative

The two pulling in opposite directions, their tidal forces ripping him apart

Today was a day where art and hunger went hand in hand as he painted

Every ounce of his imagination was placed on the canvas stroke by stroke

Revealing a mixture of magic and his soul, bound in sweat and paint

Yet it didn’t sell, leaving him destitute and feeling like he lost at life

Donate (an acrostic conversation)

Image: npengage.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/online-donation.jpg

Don’t give me some lame excuse this time.  Where is my money?”

Oh, my excuse isn’t lame at all.”

No?  Then what is it?”

All of my money was given to charity this afternoon.”

That doesn’t sound like you.  What charity was it?”

Extreme Gamer Intervention.  I bought all the Pokémon cards I could to stop them from doing so.”

Feast (an acrostic poem)

Image: img.atlasobscura.com/a5Yk3aj6Vqi3L5Dil86YVpJCp47vpOl3fAtTI-V0wXw/rt:fill/w:1200/el:1/q:81/sm:1/scp:1/ar:1/aHR0cHM6Ly9hdGxh/cy1kZXYuczMuYW1h/em9uYXdzLmNvbS91/cGxvYWRzL2Fzc2V0/cy8zYmZkMWNhNWRm/NzcxYjJjMzVfUm9j/ayBGb29kIFRhYmxl/Mi5qcGc.jpg

Focusing on the food was what gave him pleasure

Every morsel perfectly prepared and consummately seasoned

At the moment he could think of nothing better existing in the universe

So why was his stomach still an echo chamber of empty rumbles?

The fact the meal in question was just an old magazine spread and he had no money

Near (an acrostic poem)

Image: betterteam.com/images/betterteam-cell-phone-policy-5472×3648-20201120.jpeg

Never was he farther away physically from her

Every day he felt that emptiness when he woke up

And no matter how many times he got to call her, it was never enough

Reaching his decision, he booked his flight.  Money is great, but being there was priceless

Thought (an acrostic poem)

Think, therefore I am was his favorite idiom

He held onto it with both hands, never letting it go

Others gave up and allowed themselves to become fleshy robots

Under the guise that the need for money was above all

Given that option himself, he rejected to play along

He kept generating new and different mental creations to escape their drudgery

That was why he was gone when they finally came to imprison him for his ideas

Wrong (an acrostic poem)

Image: 1.bp.blogspot.com/-0l2G7I19etA/Vv3Q5jxrB9I/AAAAAAAABOM/nXjIkNrj4D8F0DSDp62OdicoRMReocTqACKgB/s1600/Jaquaflute%2Bsmall.jpg

Wishing he was right, but knowing he wasn’t

Really, he couldn’t be farther from being correct

Only he was committed now, and backing down was worse, wouldn’t it?

Now it was time to pay the piper, but he had no money

Going to be bad, but the rest of the village had said what could the pied piper do?

Cell (an acrostic poem)

Image: images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/51b63587e4b06e9f0987f4e3/1371737092155-KKADCZX5TBNP9ZOJ5D4T/jail.jpg

Corruption pulsed within his veins energizing his desire to do wrong

Extracting money from the misery and oppression around him

Leaving him to live a life of luxury built upon the pain of others

Losing his soul bit by bit behind the bars of inhumanity