Mario Draghi is a stimulating guy,
To rouse a dead economy,
There’s nothing he won’t try.
He’ll lower rates and lower rates
then lower rates again.
Til the exchange rate for the Euro
reaches parity with the yen.
When he eases quantitatively
Then stocks you ought to buy.
Still, It won’t be pretty in the end
when money comes to die.

Michael Bloomberg was awakened in an unfamiliar bed.
Restraining bands were on his limbs and also on his head.

“our sales are down across the board, our latest soda bombed.”
“While our truckers want to rub you out, We insist you won’t be harmed.”
“We are trying to convert you, There's no need to be alarmed.”

For this most unwilling witness Coke's jingle was replayed,
I cannot say how often, it went on for many days.
He was forced to watch commercials, all in praise of soda pop.
Big gulps were his nourishment, though he longed to make it stop.

Then, when his brain was Cola washed
And we finally set him free,
Michael Bloomberg bought the world a Coke
and sang in harmony.

The groundlings gather close around
It’s an unruly crowd.
The gentry sit in her majesties box
decked in Purple and all looking proud.
The poet enters the wooden “O”
armed only with his pen.
Will it be thumbs up or down?
On this so much depends.
The crowd screams out for blood and gore
As much as they can stand
They lust to see your soul laid bare
And naked on the sand
You weave a tale of arms and a woman
About the Trojan war.
Three hours traffic of our stage
They leave still wanting more.

Hearts, it seems, are as fragile as dreams-
and quite as easily broken.
Frail as a paper valentine
Which is but true love’s token.
The widow maker kills the king
Before needed words are spoken.
Hearts, it seems, are fragile things
And quite as easily broken.

Barrack’s on vacation, playing golf by the sea,
but life keeps interrupting and wasting greens fees
Iraq is in flames and the country may fall,
Barrack steps calmly up and addresses his ball.
While ISIS is murdering Kurds by the bunch
Barrack’s on vacation and ordering lunch.
Israel is in trouble as Hamas wages war.
Barrack limits arms shipments and tallies his score.
Ferguson, Missouri suffers racial unrest,
while Barrack is debating which driver is best.
James Foley is dead, his throat has been cut.
Our President speaks, and then he makes a nice putt.
My colleagues rebuke me. “Don’t beat a dead horse!”
The President’s great, he’s staying the course.

To a family that had nothing a wondrous gift was given:
A free home with a garden!they moved in and started living.
Their new home had an orchard a stream and a modern well.
Their benefactor, name unknown, gave them  paradise to dwell.

It's sad to see that place today, the garden overgrown.
The water scarcely fit to drink, the structure falling down
They picked all the low lying fruit and they befouled their nest.
They thought they were entitled, they forgot they were but guests.

If the benefactor returns one day and sees his former home
He'll weep for Adam's children and be crying all alone.

Detroit is a mess, eighteen billion in debt
But you can’t stop a loser from a double down bet.
The transit she has runs deep in the red
Half her acreage is vacant and her tax base has fled.
So now they plan a streetcar, the M-1 light rail
They boldly go forward with a plan doomed to fail.
Detroit’s busted budget is out of control
Their schools are the worst, spending’s out of control.
But if we build a streetcar then all will be well?
More cash down the rat hole! Don’t ask and don’t tell.
Three billion dollars it’s projected to cost-
half for the rail line and half for the Boss.