Banks are weird like you put money in them and they end up making money off you, heh i don’t dont if i should trust banks but i’m not 18 yet sooooo idek. Some people at banks give you lollipops! :) ok yeah
I’m loosing hope. The banks of belonging are but a far away land any more. All I can see now are mirages of vast and beautiful lands, but as surely as they come, the fade into the heat of the lifeless still of my ocean called life.
Hate going into them. Whenever I go to a bank it’s a miserable experience, they sell me unwanted accounts and tell me I am poor. My financial skills are terrible and I would never work in the bank. The banks set the interest rates although I have no idea what that is. I have never ever understood why anyone would like money and talking about money
I robbed a bank one day. I swear to God that I didn’t mean to. The demons, they told me to. They hypnotized me so that I could rob the bank. I stole over a million dollars. I killed two people. I injured many. I am bad. Bad, bad, bad. However the demons, they tell me otherwise. They tell me that I did well.
He stared at her as she jumped from stone to stone along the river bank. She was as swift as the rushing water, pure and white, frivolous and capricious.
I really don’t like banks.. I mean, who ever gave them permission to take charge of all our money anyways? Have you ever wondered what goes on in a bank? Who counts all the money? Who enters and exits the safe? It’s crazy to think about how much money circulates throughout the bank.
Banks are where you get to keep this amazing thing we call money. Money runs everything. Money is what I need and never seem to have. Money is what made my family tear themselves apart for so long. If only someone could control my money and just tell me how to do things right. I know I should be more responsible and control my spending, but I refuse to limit my life and focus my stresses on money. Who cares? I’d like to throw it out the window and just live out of my car. It would be nice if gas didn’t cost so much.
Elizabeth______ is a famous actress. Elizabeth is my middle name. I don’t have blonde hair, big boobs, and sensual lips though. But maybe one day I can act?
Banks are institutions. They hold money, your money? who works at banks bankers. some people call the owners of banks or the people who run them banksters banker gangsters why? why do people rely on banks?
The two of us, ski masks pulled tight over our gaunt faces, stared at the assembled mass before us. Two girl’s, twins by the looks of them, huddled underneath their mother’s body, her mass shielding them from the horrors surrounding them.
River banks are beautiful. You can’t step in the same river twice – yup that’s a Disney rip off. But what I love most about rivers is that they remind me of my Grandpa. Even though I didn’t know him, he always made me believe. In anything. No stream was ever just a stream. It was a river to be explored.
I once robbed three banks in 24 hours. Of course, I didn’t get away with this. It took another two days before the law had caught up with me. By that time, I had blown through $250,000 in cash and had had the time of my life? Was it worth a life prison sentence? You bet.
Banks have a funny way of making people do exactly what they want. They lure you in and use your money. For the inconvenience of them using your money they give you fractions of pennies every other month or so. While the bank sits back and collects the millions.
“These snowbanks are RIDICULOUS!” the trickster shouted gleefully, diving headfirst into one.
Tobias smirked, shaking his head and tugging at one of his friend’s exposed feet. “Astor, you’re going to suffocate.
After quite a bit of shuffling and snow being kicked and slid in all sorts of directions so that Tobias had to deftly dodge it, Astor’s head emerged on the other side of the drift, soaking hair plastered over his eyes so all that could be seen was his huge, white grin.
“You mean I would if I could,” he corrected. “Jeez, it’s COLD in here!”
The banks hold gold,
hold money and jewels.
Banks hold the things that are precious,
the things we cannot risk losing.
So, my arms must be a bank,
because you are wrapped in them,
and you are precious.
Banks are the source of the evil. Everyone knows that money is the root of all evil, and where does money come from? The banks. They screw you over, take your money, and when you want to complain, they’re probably not even open. They’re thieves and they’re just completely inconsiderate to their fellow man. Damn you banks!
In your mind, a vast network of locks and unlocks, vaults with each and every happening you forgot to mention last night before last on the day he asked about your past. In your mind, a sprawling city of maybe-bars, something that conceals what they call memory.
Hidden in all those little mounds, or maybe they’re bubbles for you, are the words you always meant to say. A withdrawal is a little more safety, every deposit is a little more life lived. It’s not hard to fill up your personal account. All you need is some patience and some rashness. That’s what the banks are for, after all, all your memories you’ve lived through.
He sat on the bank of the river waiting for dad to come back around. The father was lost in the bushes, groping around for a lost puppy they had seen while fishing. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he thought, just a puppy, but the son had whined and begged so sweetly that he had to say yes. and the father came back, and the puppy barked, and the son smiled.
Banks are very corrupt. I hate them. They are nothing but there to make money by giving money they don’t have. All they do is charge you interest on every single little thing. They are places where many people go to when they are desperate only to be told no
river banks with trees and shrubs, with little animals walking and crawling around, and birds singing in the trees, and the sound of water rushing and crashing against the rocks as it flows towards the cliff. much prettier than our modern banks.
All the money in the world couldn’t stop me. From here, there would be only more heists, only more banks to rob. I would take my newfound wealth and laugh as I spent it as fast as I could, uncaring because there always was more to be had. All it took was just a little effort.
It was a vicious cycle.
When I think of banks, I think of Tyra Banks, host of America’s Next top model. How ridiculous! It is. I know. That show…I love it but I hate it. The girls are so immature, especially now that they are the same age as me. They act like middle schoolers!
I think that banks are incredibly stupid. They are one of those inventions that serve a purpose but only if they are incorruptible. Of course we being humans have natural flaws which impose themselves upon banks making them flawed. These flaws hurt people.
There are several of them, and each perpetuates itself and the others. An organism devoted solely to growth is not viable in the absence of infinite food; you and I are the krill that feeds these whales.
There were too many on the street. They filled it to the brim. Packed up, people were stifled from being able to move.
Money or let the little pigs be fat and cute as usual?
It was a conundrum they all had to resolve, each in their own time, under private quarters.
The banks of the river were coated with oil and several birds could be seen trying to clean their feather to no avail. Meg took a moment to look over the disaster and lifted her pail and started the desperate walk down to the beach.
There are many types of banks. A Federal Reserve Bank is used to hold money. Transactions are placed there by people. River banks are different. They are on the sides of a river or stream. The banks hold the water back from overflowing.
My brother works at a bank and he hates it. Before working there, he was working at our high school after he graduated. He worked there for a year as an assistant/tutor but he hated working there too because the staff sucked. I need to find a job. Hate is a strong word.
I had a piggy bank when I was little. I’m sure I still have it too. Filled with not just pennies, dimes and the odd loonie, but also hopes and dreams of things that I one day might be able to buy.
Against the banks of the Mississippi, there’s green and brown and rust. Sunlight daydreams of flickering butterflies and hot, summer air. There’s a burn in the sky, there’s a lazy look about it. And she dreams she can just drift downstream, and be carried out to sea.
There she was. The model. The myth. Miss Tyra Banks.
She must have been standing about ten feet away from me. At first, I wasn’t sure it was her. In the last magazine picture I’d seen of her, her hair had been blonde. But I still knew it was her. I could tell by the passport she was holding in her right hand. It was open, dangling beside her hip on the page that had her picture on it. I couldn’t see the name, but I didn’t need to.
On the bottom left corner of the page, I saw the picture of her face. It was the face of a model.
well something to do with money. where people to go deposite and withdrawl. its not all that great really. i feel like its a scam to get in my pants…. pockets that is.
fucking suck they take your money when you dont have any and give you money if you have money what kind of bullshit is this i hate banks they destroyed our economy but never paid for it they need to be in jail not poor people stealing food to eat
There’s a dance place around my city, it never made much sense though. Who would dance aat a bank? Who thought to call it bank? I really should have deposited money at the bank today.. watch, I’ll spend the remnants of my wallet and not even know it. Banks are so ridiculously stupid, I’m glad I’m not there a lot………………..
they steal your money. THough they were created to make you money. there simple to understand but even simpler to fall prey to. everyone loves money, needs money. everyone is in fact their own bank, but the need others to make credit in life.
i do not have a bank account. i asked for one, but my dad said maybe later. i want a bank account so i can connect it with my paypal account so i can buy and sell stuff more freely.. i dont think working at a bank would be very fun.
It’s a trifling place really; telling you what you can and can’t do with the money your worked so hard for. They’re full of corrupted, boring, starched people who do nothing but control your opportunities.
Banks are weird like you put money in them and they end up making money off you, heh i don’t dont if i should trust banks but i’m not 18 yet sooooo idek. Some people at banks give you lollipops! :) ok yeah
I’m loosing hope. The banks of belonging are but a far away land any more. All I can see now are mirages of vast and beautiful lands, but as surely as they come, the fade into the heat of the lifeless still of my ocean called life.
Hate going into them. Whenever I go to a bank it’s a miserable experience, they sell me unwanted accounts and tell me I am poor. My financial skills are terrible and I would never work in the bank. The banks set the interest rates although I have no idea what that is. I have never ever understood why anyone would like money and talking about money
I robbed a bank one day. I swear to God that I didn’t mean to. The demons, they told me to. They hypnotized me so that I could rob the bank. I stole over a million dollars. I killed two people. I injured many. I am bad. Bad, bad, bad. However the demons, they tell me otherwise. They tell me that I did well.
He stared at her as she jumped from stone to stone along the river bank. She was as swift as the rushing water, pure and white, frivolous and capricious.
I really don’t like banks.. I mean, who ever gave them permission to take charge of all our money anyways? Have you ever wondered what goes on in a bank? Who counts all the money? Who enters and exits the safe? It’s crazy to think about how much money circulates throughout the bank.
Banks are where you get to keep this amazing thing we call money. Money runs everything. Money is what I need and never seem to have. Money is what made my family tear themselves apart for so long. If only someone could control my money and just tell me how to do things right. I know I should be more responsible and control my spending, but I refuse to limit my life and focus my stresses on money. Who cares? I’d like to throw it out the window and just live out of my car. It would be nice if gas didn’t cost so much.
he walked down
down to the banks
it wasn’t shallow, barely enough room to stand
but somewhere beyond the bank, into the mirror on the lake it sat
Elizabeth______ is a famous actress. Elizabeth is my middle name. I don’t have blonde hair, big boobs, and sensual lips though. But maybe one day I can act?
wide edges of water spray
and sharp turns cut across a glittering lake
the zig zag of predictability, the stuttering slop of control
Banks are institutions. They hold money, your money? who works at banks bankers. some people call the owners of banks or the people who run them banksters banker gangsters why? why do people rely on banks?
The two of us, ski masks pulled tight over our gaunt faces, stared at the assembled mass before us. Two girl’s, twins by the looks of them, huddled underneath their mother’s body, her mass shielding them from the horrors surrounding them.
River banks are beautiful. You can’t step in the same river twice – yup that’s a Disney rip off. But what I love most about rivers is that they remind me of my Grandpa. Even though I didn’t know him, he always made me believe. In anything. No stream was ever just a stream. It was a river to be explored.
I once robbed three banks in 24 hours. Of course, I didn’t get away with this. It took another two days before the law had caught up with me. By that time, I had blown through $250,000 in cash and had had the time of my life? Was it worth a life prison sentence? You bet.
Banks have a funny way of making people do exactly what they want. They lure you in and use your money. For the inconvenience of them using your money they give you fractions of pennies every other month or so. While the bank sits back and collects the millions.
“These snowbanks are RIDICULOUS!” the trickster shouted gleefully, diving headfirst into one.
Tobias smirked, shaking his head and tugging at one of his friend’s exposed feet. “Astor, you’re going to suffocate.
After quite a bit of shuffling and snow being kicked and slid in all sorts of directions so that Tobias had to deftly dodge it, Astor’s head emerged on the other side of the drift, soaking hair plastered over his eyes so all that could be seen was his huge, white grin.
“You mean I would if I could,” he corrected. “Jeez, it’s COLD in here!”
The banks hold gold,
hold money and jewels.
Banks hold the things that are precious,
the things we cannot risk losing.
So, my arms must be a bank,
because you are wrapped in them,
and you are precious.
Banks are the source of the evil. Everyone knows that money is the root of all evil, and where does money come from? The banks. They screw you over, take your money, and when you want to complain, they’re probably not even open. They’re thieves and they’re just completely inconsiderate to their fellow man. Damn you banks!
We have them, did you know that?
In your mind, a vast network of locks and unlocks, vaults with each and every happening you forgot to mention last night before last on the day he asked about your past. In your mind, a sprawling city of maybe-bars, something that conceals what they call memory.
Hidden in all those little mounds, or maybe they’re bubbles for you, are the words you always meant to say. A withdrawal is a little more safety, every deposit is a little more life lived. It’s not hard to fill up your personal account. All you need is some patience and some rashness. That’s what the banks are for, after all, all your memories you’ve lived through.
He sat on the bank of the river waiting for dad to come back around. The father was lost in the bushes, groping around for a lost puppy they had seen while fishing. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he thought, just a puppy, but the son had whined and begged so sweetly that he had to say yes. and the father came back, and the puppy barked, and the son smiled.
Banks are very corrupt. I hate them. They are nothing but there to make money by giving money they don’t have. All they do is charge you interest on every single little thing. They are places where many people go to when they are desperate only to be told no
She married a man named Banks. I thought I had forgotten about that, but then I saw the word, and it all came back. She should have married me.
river banks with trees and shrubs, with little animals walking and crawling around, and birds singing in the trees, and the sound of water rushing and crashing against the rocks as it flows towards the cliff. much prettier than our modern banks.
All the money in the world couldn’t stop me. From here, there would be only more heists, only more banks to rob. I would take my newfound wealth and laugh as I spent it as fast as I could, uncaring because there always was more to be had. All it took was just a little effort.
It was a vicious cycle.
When I think of banks, I think of Tyra Banks, host of America’s Next top model. How ridiculous! It is. I know. That show…I love it but I hate it. The girls are so immature, especially now that they are the same age as me. They act like middle schoolers!
I think that banks are incredibly stupid. They are one of those inventions that serve a purpose but only if they are incorruptible. Of course we being humans have natural flaws which impose themselves upon banks making them flawed. These flaws hurt people.
There are several of them, and each perpetuates itself and the others. An organism devoted solely to growth is not viable in the absence of infinite food; you and I are the krill that feeds these whales.
There were too many on the street. They filled it to the brim. Packed up, people were stifled from being able to move.
Money or let the little pigs be fat and cute as usual?
It was a conundrum they all had to resolve, each in their own time, under private quarters.
The banks of the river were coated with oil and several birds could be seen trying to clean their feather to no avail. Meg took a moment to look over the disaster and lifted her pail and started the desperate walk down to the beach.
There are many types of banks. A Federal Reserve Bank is used to hold money. Transactions are placed there by people. River banks are different. They are on the sides of a river or stream. The banks hold the water back from overflowing.
My brother works at a bank and he hates it. Before working there, he was working at our high school after he graduated. He worked there for a year as an assistant/tutor but he hated working there too because the staff sucked. I need to find a job. Hate is a strong word.
I had a piggy bank when I was little. I’m sure I still have it too. Filled with not just pennies, dimes and the odd loonie, but also hopes and dreams of things that I one day might be able to buy.
Against the banks of the Mississippi, there’s green and brown and rust. Sunlight daydreams of flickering butterflies and hot, summer air. There’s a burn in the sky, there’s a lazy look about it. And she dreams she can just drift downstream, and be carried out to sea.
There she was. The model. The myth. Miss Tyra Banks.
She must have been standing about ten feet away from me. At first, I wasn’t sure it was her. In the last magazine picture I’d seen of her, her hair had been blonde. But I still knew it was her. I could tell by the passport she was holding in her right hand. It was open, dangling beside her hip on the page that had her picture on it. I couldn’t see the name, but I didn’t need to.
On the bottom left corner of the page, I saw the picture of her face. It was the face of a model.
well something to do with money. where people to go deposite and withdrawl. its not all that great really. i feel like its a scam to get in my pants…. pockets that is.
fucking suck they take your money when you dont have any and give you money if you have money what kind of bullshit is this i hate banks they destroyed our economy but never paid for it they need to be in jail not poor people stealing food to eat
There’s a dance place around my city, it never made much sense though. Who would dance aat a bank? Who thought to call it bank? I really should have deposited money at the bank today.. watch, I’ll spend the remnants of my wallet and not even know it. Banks are so ridiculously stupid, I’m glad I’m not there a lot………………..
they steal your money. THough they were created to make you money. there simple to understand but even simpler to fall prey to. everyone loves money, needs money. everyone is in fact their own bank, but the need others to make credit in life.
i do not have a bank account. i asked for one, but my dad said maybe later. i want a bank account so i can connect it with my paypal account so i can buy and sell stuff more freely.. i dont think working at a bank would be very fun.
It’s a trifling place really; telling you what you can and can’t do with the money your worked so hard for. They’re full of corrupted, boring, starched people who do nothing but control your opportunities.