|Morning poetry from Independent readers
||[Apr. 28th, 2009|10:51 am]
More poems from our readers giving Andrew Motion a run for his (recession-reduced) money:
By Graham Hawkey-Smith
The worst recession since 24-hour news began
So families and pensioners all need a plan
First list the things you can’t do without
SKY Sports, golf membership and lightly steamed trout
A new wardrobe for summer, a villa in Tuscany
Protect those necessities, be careful with money
Then make those sacrifices wherever you can
No Pizza Hut dining – call the Domino’s man
Downgrade to Waitrose – the food’s just as nice
After all - lobster risotto is basically rice
Use your land wisely – become self sufficient
A gardener twice weekly is most cost efficient
The credit crunch could hit in the strangest of places
So it’s best to avoid – have a day at the races.
They run 24 hour stories to influence you
And when green shoots appear – it’s time for pig flu.
Eileen Jones penned a poem she called One woman's small resistance in difficult times
Being clever, hard working, not given to rows
had left a conspicuous mark on her brow;
with her boss taking aim at the slightest cue
she'd almost bitten her tongue in two
and her in tray swelled like something alive,
until crunch time loomed one Thursday at five
with a deadline missed, an appraisal due
her job under threat, what could she do?
That night as she tidied her underwear drawer
seeking distraction in this homely chore
she remembered hearing that risqué knickers
bloom under the cassocks of some lady vicars.
(A natural urge whose outward expression
may be somewhat fettered by their profession
is given free rein in this harmless way.)
She pondered anew on her showdown next day
then chose the best terms for her grief and despair
and embroidered them all on her roomiest pair
of briefs in some detail. (Anything skimpy or racy
would have called for prodigious efforts in précis.)
There was no getting out of the fateful meeting
with her rude appraiser. But on taking her seat in
his gloomy lair, she felt silky text against her skin
and his sarcastic gibes seemed unusually thin.
As he droned on she mused: 'You obnoxious lout, you!
If only you knew what my keks say about you!'
A thought that somehow gave her the strength
to refute his false slurs with calm and at length.
So take note, if you feel that this miserable age
of recession compels you to sit on your rage:
you might be less prone to intemperate rants
when the perfect riposte is inscribed on your pants.
And from Marilyn Murray:
To want more
To need less
To a total mess
When we grab
All that’s there
Stack up ore trophies
The less we care
The sightless many
Follow a light
Take all you can
Pocket all you must
You have no truth
You have no trust
Look over your shoulder
See what he’s getting
Love what you’ve got
And stop your fretting
Short but sweet from Paul Eustice
It capitalism’s so great,
Then how come we got in this state?
It’s time to assay
A more socialist way
Vote Old Labour – it’s never too late.
Gregory James, Swansea - We’re on a roll!
Roll up, roll up! Come and see the animals obscene!
Fat cats, and pigs and asses –
(Anthropomorphic wailings) betray the Media’s
Incomprehension of rebuke –
We are the lambs led to slaughter
Brown, Blair and Bush were willing Porters
Of the Banks and greedy snorters.
Mere fodder for the masses.
The funny fat cats and incompetent asses
Bounce around on the strings and we’re laughing
While the real, and human, and evil real people
slink and slide away and hide.
And WE roll in their shit.
Impressive effort by Bjorn Oystein Ovrev “Free after John Donne ‘No man (bank) is an island’”
No bank is an island, solvent unto itself; every bank is a partner in the financial system, a part of the economy.
If a government lowers the interest rate, the currency is devalued, as well as if it were an investment bank, or a mortgage lender, or thy house price or mine.
Any banks demise diminishes my finances, because I am part of the economy. And therefore never send to know for whom the news bulletin on impending crises after crisis breaks; it breaks for thee.
Sue Hampson - Lament of a Poor Fashionista
Ooh, we are in a bit of a pickle
Ooh, we are in a bit of a jam
So, I'm trading champagne for a spritzer
And pheasant for parboiled ham.
My taste in footwear is changing
To reflect my slimline purse
But my lust for Manolo Blahniks
Can only be seen as a curse.
My CD collection is static
It'll have to stay as it is
Perhaps I'll rely on the radio
I've heard Chris Moyles is 'the biz'.
So life, with all these restrictions
Will be hard for a spendthrift like me
But as long as I have great mascara
I will eat tinned tuna for tea.
By Linda Appleby
Red-coated Tory lady
Swooping in tones of fake calm
- 'There is no need for alarm'
A simple knife to the heart
She offers us her suave solution
'Tax the poor, stave off the recession'
Stop their bleeding hearts
They are 'Benefit Dependent'
Toss them back where they were made redundant
People cannot live without money
They are desperate, they are in need
They have mouths to feed
Throw the workers on the dole
Then kill them by starvation
They will not need a pension
It is the answer to a recession
Monopoly versus Scrabble by Elan Stark
if you took the board game monopoly
and loaded it up with piss poor policies
while promising to play it with hopeless hypocrisy
you'd have the economy
and honestly now its a horrible comedy
just take at the look the bottomless dropping cost of our properties
while political powers are asking us to stay positive
as if thats not logically obvious for this impossible problem
so just as long as they're honest in each political speech
that uses rhetoric to play on our worries and dreams
and honour their promise to conquer the needs
of a world thats engulfed in bottomless greed
sometimes it seems you cant see the woods for the trees
nor the good from the evil 'mongst all of the sleaze
its like a post credit crunch sodomy scene
where theres not enough gonorrhea cream to deal
with the symptoms that the infection revealed
the papers proclaim it started with investment bankers
so we give no thanks to those gambling addicts
who played with our cash while disregarding our happiness
and its not even as if i understand how this happened
all i know is that the credit and debt just got added
imaginary wealth all totally baseless
made up money
made up so more can be made
while nothing real ever gets made
and its overstated to say
that the mistake we've been making
is the inflated rate we've been paying
for the mundane games they've been playing
in the stock markets daily
see the thing that gets missed
is why those markets even exist
they don't exist just for risks at the whims of the rich
its almost as if all this shit that we're in
is cos we go to work so big spenders can binge
and place bets that all hinge
on the fact they're guaranteed to win
but gambling with other peoples money should be a sin
you and i paying bills working hard
while the other half live large
five cars parked in each garage
five garages one at each mansion
all of which keep having fantastic elaborate expansions
bastard wanker bankers
wanking over the masses of cash that they manage
but now the shit hit the fan
and the madness has happened
reality sank in and the markets still crashing
governments ran rapidly with fat rescue packages
while banks stand with hands out all helpless
and who pays for the damages
its you and i with our taxes
but as bad as that is sad
we can't attack just the bankers
cos theres politicians lawyers lawmakers high stakes stock traders
any inflated ego basing true wealth on bank statements
which are based on other peoples creations
thus creating an economy based on their own total over evaluation
and now that its changing we're paying the price
for their contrived way of life
thereby losing sight of whats wrong and whats right
standing idly by
as they light old coal fires to warm the night
mine new oil wells that were once hiding under ice
while still finding time to fight wars and fund terrorists
for dogmatic bragging rights
which cant be right
but so it goes to and fro in ebb and flow
although who knows
maybe obama will unfold the drama
perhaps think more about the word commodity
play the economy a little more like scrabble
and a lot less like monopoly
Two shorties by Richard Curtis, Newport Pagnell
There’s a system called Market Force
Boom & Bust is its natural course
When all’s said and done
We’d be better off as one
Betting on a three legged Horse
There is no way on earth
That someone’s true worth
Should be measured in Dollars and Cents
But we all buy the dream
Fat Cat’s gorge on cream
Can anyone see this doesn’t make sense!!!
The Golden Rule by Keith D Charlesworth
(‘The world is still deceived with ornament’ The Merchant of Venice)
All that glisters is not gold,
Often has this tale been told,
Men are men, not gods unknown.
All are born a blood-soaked mess,
All will face a lonely death,
All will find that life’s a loan
But no one calls and strives to press
A claim for that fair pound of flesh
You love and call your own.
Some though find that truth’s a fool,
Lies are more the golden rule,
A man is rich in what he owns -
Best to claim the most you can,
Fine to gild the clever scam,
That’s surely why a mug is born.
In the City and Westminster
Truth’s a sad and surly spinster,
Friendless, lost and all forlorn.
The world is still deceived it seems,
But greed has found its golden dream
Transmuted into dross at dawn.
So watch them with an eagle’s eye,
These men of power that you espy –
A golden rule to call your own.
By Chris Sanderson
There once was Prime Minister Brown
Who said with a sad sincere frown
That the problem was global
And his efforts noble
But we all thought he let us down.
You can submit yours by sending them to firstname.lastname@example.org