A Fantasy

I keep rolling out
Of bed because of the notes
Underneath my mattress.

In the dark room I see there is no more...
No belief in all those bankers
Those politicians...
I am here for
The irony
Of empty words repeated.

Those things that we need
So we can live
Are placed even further away.
Just so the fat cats can stay
Delved deep into the thighs
Of the whores who keep us poor.



Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 572 times
Written on 2008-10-10 at 02:42

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Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
When my grandfather died, we kept finding money bunched up with his socks - he died a long time ago and never believed in banks - looking at things today, I tend to agree

Elle x
2008-10-10



It is an absolute disgrace that charity work and urgently needed basic amenities are being penalised for the Banks greed in this, my third recession thus far in my nearly 50 years. I loved the first stanza, because that is what everyone is doing now....pulling their money out of the banks asap because no government is going to be able to gaurantee funds lost, that they don't actually have anymore either! And the fat cats win again.

The shame is all on them....

I really enjoyed this ironic look at this financial disaster they are putting on the back of common man, yet again.

Thanks for sharing your muse


Tai
2008-10-10