"fiscal" poems
The feds are making headway
(generously passing out their treats!)
*while the whistle blower
and his boon companion
hit the 22nd floor*
fiscal plans
are tidily falling into place
and the suits are all busy
chasing their dimes
dancing around the spire
full of wine and cheer
(seems the demand side imbalance
has got everyone doing the same old shimmy!)
they’re all studying their bollinger bands
MACD's, and treasuries
just like the good old days
santali would say
while capitol hill is busy
with its own pleasantries;
*repatriate that currency
hold those rates
bring the boys back home!*
the affirmations are robust
and filled with glee!
conspiracy thinkers
are busy in their own back rooms
initiating the trade
and building their counter claims
as pork bellies
and soybeans
continue to soar
(looks like eddy and the margin men
are at it again!)
what happened to that bear masquerade anyways?
they really were a band of brothers
colourful clowns
with big painted smiles
ready to lead in any parade
but they met with the resistance
a horned wall
satan’s horsemen riding high
with bags hung heavy
under dark squinting eyes
are we near an end?
the undertakers will say
it's only a blink of an eye
to the thin red line
where risk takers and front men
all jump ship
debt addiction is crippling
and hell breaks loose
when entitlements are out
and towels are thrown in
there’s a center piece here
those pugnacious statesmen
with invigorating tales
have had their place
time to clip them at the limbs
and pull the punch from the bowl
(sobriety has its merits you know!)
let’s head to the commission
and throw darts to the board ~
seems the moral blueprints are fading
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
The fiscal snare is drawing tight
Putin’s day... now courting night,
Rouble tilts vertiginously
To Satan’s **** religiously.
Fiscal snare is drawing blood
A trickle then... is now a flood,
Russia’s central bank adjusts
But ineffectually, combusts.
Hard line prospects elbow dance
Aligning for assasins lance.
Perhaps….
Better now, the Devil known
Than facing down an Unknown throne…..
Facing down an Iron call
With finger poised in nuclear thrall.
What choice now for ego’s Prince
Retreat from Eastern Ukraine’s wince?
Retreat Crimea’s balmy shores
To face the nationalistic howl of hordes?
Brinkmanship…the other way
A gamble that the West might sway?
Either way the game is up
Now bitter wine brims Russia’s cup.
M.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
Cigarettes and friends have so much in common
Friends are cigarettes to skin
The longer you hold them temptation grows within
To smoke or watch others choke
Cancer sticks, worse when ignited
So many people smoke and are delighted
To inhale the words of warning
Strangers are sticks and stones their words never hurt
With friends, this expression disappears
As if the pain doesn't accumulate every fiscal year
Running deep into your lungs, skin, and even the heart
Friends can do as much as a cigarette
We smoke our friends as if nothing is wrong and forget
Until our lungs and heart collapse and fill up with regret
Quit cold turkey, suffer relapses try again later
Anything to soak up this toxic flavor
Friends or cigarettes?
Your choice of flavor to savor
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
It wasnt long before the baluster flapped somewhere in the distance and Icarus knew how old he had been on the day of his birth. For whatever reason, the snow capped cappuccinos he had willfully destroyed in a heated debate on fiscal policy had him beginning again. Why was there always a beginning where there was an end? Fur traders used to circumnavigate the Hudson's Bay of his humanity when he was young, sharing drinks and fire water whiskey like it was all an H2O ready for the soul search. Sadly, many ended up in Hitlers concentration camps weeks after the **** invasion of Poland, about a month or so before the fall of the Roman Empire. Beginning with a last breath, Icarus strode off the plank with a new-found confidence unnatural in his niceties of long past. It was as if 1 minute and 35 seconds was enough to dish a clamouring populace onto the dinner table before the fat step-father gleefully orders
everyone to 'dig in, everyone!'
Cancelling everyone's appointment with Dr. Pardon meant the gaining of a key participatory certificate in El Dorado, and the gold lingering in dusty sun-beams was sifted for the taking. Some got rich, the rest got miserable. The rest used to imagine the gold, staring at ivory towers and lottery tickets, apple cores lording over old public servant applications near the city hall drain pipes as the modern world collapsed into a flash-mob image of Ronald Reagan.
Icarus was a sliver of duskish light flittering a top distant windowsills, all cupped in an intentional light because happiness was as possible as sadness. Not that considering either would make you either.
Icarus slept as his wings incinerated at the first glimpse of the solar system. He now believed every single proverb the old ***** slumbers had whispered their children as they woke to find themselves adults.
In the beginning he found the beginning beginning again. It made him feel however you wish. Both were just as possible. Both were just as much a jazz configuration as a smooth and easy guitar rift.
Ahha!
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
i heard another person in my village
died today, we didn’t dare touch
the body, his organs had bled out
there are no white people here
white as ghosts, they are going home
my friends in America tell me
we are not on the news, only Jewish
people fighting muslims, but
don’t they know we all come from Africa?
i heard the super-nationals took this
virus into a lab and created a way
to rid itself of the old people of civilization
if Ebola spreads maybe the world
will not remember what it means
to come from tribes that your mother came from
once, we left Africa and now we leave her
to her misery, well you know what
maybe fiscal ebola is just around the corner
for people who live in America, people
who live their lives on debt, credit, profiting
from heatlh insurance, death insurance, the works
but the fact is, I don’t think this is going away
I think Ebola is here for a very specific reason
The world is ready for another plague
to hemorrhage like a zombie, it’s not news?
not if you are black, if your body fluids
don’t stain your white skin, not when
it’s on another continent, that you don’t have
relatives in, don’t call it a “black death”
just because it originates in bats from Africa
there isn't a vaccine because the world
intentionally doesn’t wish for our well-being
you say it isn’t airborne, it doesn’t spread easily
because we are somehow ***** and you are clean
because you are somehow rich, compared to our poverty?
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
May 28, 2019
May 28, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC
the girlie man of Australian politics
had the term coined just for him
the tough man Arnie Schwarzenegger
from California was thinking of him
Bill Shorten is a *****
when it comes to fiscal matters
that's why his statements
on the budget are all in tatters
soft approaches toward
spending will never do
the nation's finances are in need
of a tightening *****
the treasury office stats
don't mislead of go awry
a salient tale they tell
about a well running dry
there are no Jesus Christ figures
in Canberra to divide the loaves and fishes
a certain amount is in the nation's war chest
which must fulfill the people's many wishes
the Shorten alternative economic policy
has great sieve holes in it
the nation's well being under it
would be rendered unfit
at the end of the day
the taxpayer always pays
so the ledger should be in balance
without any stalling delays
fiscal responsibility
is good for a nation's health
marshmallow centered Shorten
has no interest in stock piling our wealth
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
I cancelled my bank overdraft
Cut my cards up in a small pile
Actually, it was quite large you know
And this act made me smile
Just deal with cash from here on out
Never buy more than I need
It released a weight off of my shoulders
And deep down I felt freed
fiscally conservative
financially responsible
My nation cannot do it
Without me as an example
No more fees for paying late
If I need it I pay cash
Budgets I will follow
And spending...that I'll slash
Can you imagine if a nation
Took this simple thought to mind
Just pay with what we make from tax
And leave what we can't afford behind
No missiles, and no foreign debt
We're just beholding to ourselves
It's politically reprehensible
But, we owe it to ourselves
fiscally conservative
financially responsible
My nation cannot do it
Without me as an example
No more fees for paying late
If I need it I pay cash
Budgets I will follow
And spending...that I'll slash
No government agendas
To trade for that we can't afford
It would ***** the nations bankers
And make the economists quite bored
To be responsible for our actions
We are taught right from the start
don't spend the money you don't have
Well, to me...that's really smart
fiscally conservative
financially responsible
My nation cannot do it
Without me as an example
No more fees for paying late
Spending I will slash
My budget I will follow
And from now on pay just cash
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
We divert rivers for desert fountains
Mine the very souls of mountains
yet we cannot spare the cash to feed the poor
Election hopefuls promise lies
while they look us in the eyes
then line their pockets like any other corporate *****
The treasury of this nation
thrives on fiscal ************
massaging figures til the money is all spent
And while we're all left to drown
some get bailed out to higher ground
as they stand upon the ninety nine percent
Why does the power of human greed
come before helping those in need
or is compassion blind, no longer can she see?
I pray to god I'm not alone
so if you appreciate my tone
come out and Occupy this planet Earth with me
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 4:06 PM UTC
"Memory is more indelible than ink."
—Anita Loos
~
*Europe, after the rain,
the sun lending warmth and comfort.
fringes come into focus.
shadow journal,
fiscal dreams,
becoming ****** lines on a page;
procession bells
for young brides,
veiled in lace.
a touch from her
outstretched hands,
this honeymoon phase
running up the thigh,
the holding quite still until
she smiles for pendulum.
at first light, breakfast in bed,
granting pastel wishes on
boxing night,
then a letting go of the kite string.
new fingers in the medicine bottle,
tiny geometries
inside a house of reciprocal numbers.
paradise in mnemonic children:
cartwheels and handstands,
coloring books of
neglected spaces,
future ruins.
one hundred violins
play to isles of ignorance,
stray embers settle
along the solemn Chemin De Fer (railway).
a catalogue of afternoons
on the bike path
thru propeller seeds and dragonflies.
arriving in the haloed flesh:
skin dive,
the place of couloir descent;
**** beach,
the place of odd glances;
gun chamber,
the room of secondary light;
all horizon variations.
an algebra of darkness,
this dense Roman twilight,
their exiles unreflected
in blind lanterns.
our brightness will become
refracting silhouettes,
a broken yolk in the incendiary sky.*
~
Aug 29, 2022
Aug 29, 2022 at 12:38 PM UTC
It could Satan's cohorts cause, what portly
Political figures earn, to forsake his camp
And anon join the fray to the fat fiscal treasury
Of the country squander; and that to a cramp.
The pay plus pecks in a year they receive
Will most citizens in their lifetime never sniff.
So some who covet crazily such a mega-cheque
Also seek the same office for the easy favours.
Since our paunchy purse will at their own beck
And call be, they thus make elections endeavours
A dagger thing;--that if they cannot God's gross
Gold get, they must anyhow have the devil's dross.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 5:43 AM UTC
i’m not sure how artists have the patience
to sculpt marble slabs into gods
or why they feel it’s worth their time
but i do know that
the nights i stay up until 3 a.m. are usually the worst
and the mornings i wake up at 8 a.m. are usually the
best
and that it’s worth the money to buy a decent mattress
instead of losing sleep on fiscal responsibility
and i feel grown-up having wrapping paper in my closet
and extra birthday cards in my desk
and i might always be crazy
always holding on to pieces of the past
tacking them to my bedroom walls
and pretending it’s okay that i still think about it all
but i won’t forget that some people are brave enough
to put on big white suits and fishbowl helmets and leave
their families to go walk on the moon
or that i flew on a plane by myself even though i was
absolutely petrified of being alone in the sky
or that spring exists,
and that winter cannot, and will not, last forever
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
*The cordons of existence are constricting
For the keepers of the dream have let us down,
Who will buy tomorrow if performances are hollow
Causing all the global spectators to frown?
American has been the silk pyjamas
Since ’45 they’ve lead the world’s display
In health and wealth and brandishing the muscle
But in recent times it seems they’ve seen their day.
For since Clinton’s time the National debt has spiralled
They’ve departed brushfire wars in disarray,
Default now looms obscene with disharmony supreme
With Congressional leaders ranting in the fray.
The fiasco of a Government held to ransom
By a faction of extremist’s from the right,
Whilst the greenback in decline won’t change water into wine
The dire threat of fiscal chaos causes fright.
So global confidence is fading in the dollar
And the watchers shake their heads in blank despair,
For the willingness to follow is now a bitter pill to swallow
When the USA’s rock steadiness aint’ there.
So, what’s around the corner for tomorrow?
What aspirants are waiting in the wings?
With a fading USA perhaps it’s China’s turn to play
Though that’s going to mean adjustments made to things.
Of course we’re venturing into territory’s unchartered
And the crystal ball consulted, isn’t clear
But one thing I can assure, if this is what we must endure,
Is that our tomorrows will be something, now, to fear.*
Marshalg
Auckland N.Z.
19 October 2013
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
Escupe gente que no tienen ereccion
y lamen constituciones congeladas !
Escupe la falsa historia de las calles !
Escupe la cabeza del poder !
Escupe comerciantes de sustancias ,
las sotanas de la oscuridad
y santos Zares !
Escupe dioses falsificadores
y templos de atontamiento !
Escupe el preparan ballonetas
y intelectuales militaristas !
Escupe los Nobel de la paz
y dictatores Nobelistas !
Escupe primeros de Mayo vendidos
y lamentos espias !
Esupe al anfitrion de los pueblos
para que no levante cabeza !
Escupe relojes despertadores
que te guian a la tristeza !
Escupe a los que duermen
tranquilos en la noche
y suenan viajes a Marte !
Escupe la Camora de alcahuetes abogados
al fiscal que te escupe alos ojos
y te manda al numero 60
de la pandilla !
Al salario de hambre
y al multilado esperma de tu
emleador escupe !
Escupe la invisible cara de la luna !
Escupe la libertad que te proparsionan Salvadores !
Escupe la poetica antologia
que vomitase este poema mio !
Escupe los 47 anos de tu poeta
como lehan escupido
durante 47 anos continuos
los ratas capitalistas !
Feb 25, 2012
Feb 25, 2012 at 6:26 AM UTC
Verse 1
on the stock market floor lay losses galore
and in time they'd be redeemed
a price collapse saw the upward trend end
it would be a long haul pulling it out of the pall
ooh, ooh and in time they'd be redeemed
busted at the seams were all the investment schemes
putting paid to fortune's prosperity
the dream run had less future's equity
New York's exchange took a hammering
Chorus
ooh, troubled was the trading
ooh, troubled was the trading
Verse 2
as we watched the steep downward slide
the money men didn't feel like smiling
a wrecking bear had hit finances in the kitty
shocking became the fiscal outlook
Chorus
ooh, troubled was the trading
ooh, troubled was the trading
Verse 3
and the homeless dwellers in the slums
look in bins for something to eat
and they've no dosh to buy a passage out
and this is their unfair place in society
once the cream could be skimmed
yet nothing is left but life's grieving
on and on the losing streak goes
there's always a cycle of poverty
and troubled was the trading
resigned to fate's course of lows
the market floor held in distress
gloom beset the bright lights in dull tones
your redeeming breath can be inhaled
an injection of capital will aid
ghetto dwellers all in want
wealth is but for the few
monied folk posses the long bond
forgotten all the people in need
values riding on a share price
who is listening to the tune
it tells of crash and of boom
this we all know too well
Outro
and in time they'd be redeemed
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
Burnt umber in the morning
As the planets do align,
Ominously holding
To the Zodiac design,
Reminding us that somewhere
In the Bible, it was said,
That by the twelfth year of this century
Whole populations would be dead.
They say it is upon us
Those children of the moon,
They say the fingers of our destiny
Shall fall upon us soon.
Calamitous catastrophe
To befall the western world
That fiscal debt implosion
Will result with fraud unfurled,
When abnormal plate subduction
Along the continent's divide
Will magnify the earthquake swarm
Across the planet's hide.
When enormous ring tsunamis
Emanate from deep at sea
To cascade onto shorelines
To wreak extreme calamity.
Across the globe, Astrologist's,
Say something huge is due.
Their whispers quietly amplified
To percolate to you.
What little can be done or said
It's very hard to say
Because authorities worldwide
Refuse to recognize this day,
They won't readily acknowledge
Those symptoms verily to hand,
The frequent natural disasters
Occurring in each land.
Contagion is contagious
The whispers may be wrong,
Perhaps the future holds for us
A vastly different song,
But when the moon is full and white
And I look into her face,
I discern a bleak anxiety
Destined for the human race
I see mother nature poised
To take the heavy, upper hand
With an implacable demeanor
And un empathetic stand.
Burnt umber in the morning
As the planets do align,
Ominously holding
To the Zodiac design,
Reminding us that somewhere
In the Bible, it was said,
That by the twelfth year of this century
Whole populations would be dead.
Marshalg
@theBach
In the cold moonlight
20 May 2010
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 3:04 AM UTC
Oh, Progress! We found you at the back of
The movie theater, spidered around a boy
And we watched. Progress, couldn’t you
Wait til the previews were over?
At least we could tell he was gentle.
Which reminds me of the story of the father
Who beat his son until the son
Could beat back, and after the son
Killed his father he went cross country
Beating everyone on the way
Beating the mailman, the bar back, the students
He kept on traveling until he knew he was
Unbeatable
And he traveled more and went on beating
When he met his dad in down in Santa Fe
They sat down to drinks and talked
About beatings and beatings
Then they kept traveling West.
Yes, Progress you were a ***** girl
Ignoring whatever went up on the screen.
18 seconds of mutilated armies and a Noble Charmer’s
Ascent to the throne.
17 seconds of painstaking laughter and a fat man.
19 seconds of a young man’s rise to success
His defeats, resilience, his ceaseless winking
And his moral fiscal triumph in the end.
16 seconds of naughty men in suits drinking highballs.
For a movie theater, the chandelier was immense.
Dangling, finely cut glass
Suspended over the audience, crystals tapering
Down to rows of translucent points.
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 1:54 AM UTC
Take heed, falter not
Your time is currency,
Tied ineffaceably
To the heart rate of
Your Fiscal Policy.
Spent but once,
Priceless
-
A
Beat,
Irretrievable.
“Spend your time wisely"
Advised are we
But time invested
With
Family,
Often
Face-value perceived,
Too steep a price paid
When
Quantified
Monetarily.
Such an idea of a lie,
So psyche ingrained.
Dire submission
of modern humanity
Ever so
Intrinsically sealed
We even
Concede;
“These moments are stolen”
&
our time considered;
“...too precious”
© Qwey.ku
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 6:53 AM UTC
..
….
…...
….....
…...........
…..................
…............
….....................
…............
….........................
….................
….....
barometric tendrils
psuedo-random and hybrid sets
growing like ivy in the clutches of time
such a
chocking
but actualising
grasp
..huh? what?
oh yes! sorry, sorry
come in, come in,
..you know,
I too, once, like how you are now,
was here too
so
very
very
present.
Aha! Oh yes!
Permit me a mock stifled cry of ostentatious self derision,
'hee hee hee'
aaaaaahhh..
I really was pitiful back then.
seeing you there now, I feel oh so whimsical and overcome
with
ahem
sorry.
..dank and musty cellars,
hashish and a can of beans.
(baked, not fried, -we were really naive enough to believe that?- )
had it all back then though, didn't we?
By which I mean we had nothing,
but the conviction
that obligation was something that actually meant something
rather than a Cryptocurrency in a Ponzi scheme,
(with a slice of lemon)
confidence intervals stockpiled in the stocks of confidence men.
Derivative markets
oh, so very much so
so very
derivative
idiomatic
and *******
asinine.
..Still, it does harken to its era, doesn't it?
'detached and disposable.'
toothpicks
limbs
ideals
all that
goodness!
I was supposed to be offering advice, wasn't I?
Interpolate up some mediated conjecture.
But the kids can look after themselves just fine, can't they?
So our fiscal policy seems to think;
'I wager we shear up the youth
to buy shares in implementing youth wages.'
sorry, I guess it's an antiquated complaint,
“think of the children!” , they say?
Can't they see,
the whole **** market's aimed at the proto-teens??
we do it all for them the little snots.
laissez faire welfare
hedge or double down?
A shrubbery?
Or a bacon butty with bread as ****** chicken and cheese?
(I just vomited in my mouth a little,
(how pastiche))
See, and people ask why I’m trapped in the past;
the future's got me car sick.
and honestly
we're just brimming with history
(the scourge of post-modernity)
like a black moss spewed on the walls
Poisoning visions and Rheumatic fever
tearing up our lovely
lovely
pacified
pay and display
psuedo
proto
posterity
….....
….................
….........................
…............
….....................
…............
…..................
…...........
….....
…...
….
..
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analysis' dimensional delineation. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy swastica swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 10:57 PM UTC
The President says there is
no better party
than the party his happens to be.
I am dazed and confused
with parochial views
of those " know better" folks in D.C.
He gave us "healthcare"
"It's no tax, this I swear"
But the Court said a tax it must be.
It hires an army of I.R.S. men
to perform fiscal prostectomies.
In my city and state
one can't go off half cocked
They frown on us having a gun.
The outlaws don't care
They're all well armed, I swear.
The rest of us call 9-1-1.
The President says there is
no better party
than the party his happens to be.
I am dazed and confused
with parochial views
of those " know better" folks in D.C..
They take from the workers
to feed those who don't
and call it a democracy
Combined with inflation
and forced confiscation
the buck ain't what it used to be.
The President says there is
no better party
than the party his happens to be.
He'll spend half a billion
in ads on T.V.
to say he knows better than me.
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 8:31 AM UTC
He worships at the shrine of capitalism
prays for a better fiscal quarter
with money spent in shopping malls,
a scrambling search for off-the-rack meaning
through blessèd, holy consumerism.
He gives thanks to this, our daily microwave meal,
while he mutters under his breath,
“What be the will of these, our stock-market Algorithms?"
He listens to sermons from business and econ profs preaching
from the higher-education steeples, teaching
students gathering like stampede sheeples, reaching
for a measure of worth in semester-long bursts
a silent choir scribbling in exam halls to petty praise,
leaving them burned out,
and crying on the bathroom floor,
lights out, itching for a wink
amidst insect hallucinations
adrenaline rushed
from Dexadrine or Adderall
dissociation flushed
from ketamine or alcohol
asking,
“What is wrong with me?”
Seeking answers,
he pays weekly penance to shrinks
a confessional of mental disorders from the Gospel of DSM:
“Forgive me, Doctor, for I have sinned.
It has been seven days since my last confession.
I’m obsessive, I’m depressive,
antisocial personality,
ADD or ADHD,
I’m poor as I ever was and ever will be,
I’m no service to society,
I'm squandered in sobriety,
but please
keep my hands tied
in these shackles of student debt!”
And his only act of contrition
is a medical prescription
made sweeter to swallow at communion
than the blood and body of Christ.
Welcome, the new order!
Welcome, the New Religion (TM)!
Pray it will be a better one
than what we left behind.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 12:24 AM UTC
Comes not from using domestic produce,
But such products help fiscal deficit reduce.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
It’s not about the money
it’s not unusual
it’s not over
it’s not a tumour
it’s not easy
it’s not easy being green
it’s not easy being me
it’s not enough
neverwinter
never let me go
never say never
never back down
fix dead pixel
fix drywall
fix design
fix dripping faucet
find me spot
find me
find me guilty
find me love
why are flamingos pink
why are people gay
why are flatworms flat
why are we here
why is the sky blue
why stop now
why am I so tired
why do cats purr
then I got high
then I learned French
then I saw her face
then I got bronchitis
what is quinoa
what is love
what is the fiscal cliff
what is dubstep
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC