deepundergroundpoetry.com

Bankers

You lick salt �
from your double-barrelled name
a storm of puffed up moments
taut and mighty �
built of innocent desires
You scream best dress
at sackcloth cast offs �
writing worlds in reams of red �
Poor seeds you blessed �
to pale and wither �
scrambling from their husks �
now dollar pave your El Dorado
with curls of bloated finger �
crushing obligations on dreams �
Our fat fits you �
as numb of wound �
and gun to head we stagger �
Shadow bled and cursing �
that it's still your daylight �
holding grimly to our hats
while mumbo-jumbo clever
you conjure rain again � �
shovelling misfortune �
to the fattest pockets �
always two hands empty �
two hands full �
two hands empty �
two hands full �
The wrong type of collateral
leeched shamefully away �
and if our noses weren't attached
you'd steal them too

Written by Abracadabra

Published 9th Jan 2010 | Edited 26th Mar 2016

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.

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Comment

Anonymous

9th Jan 2010 9:59pm

A perfect poem for our recession; typifies, no doubt, how dozens of people feel at the moment. The El Dorado line was a corker.

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Merda

9th Jan 2010 9:59pm

This reminds me of a poster I saw today in the city; this big picture of that idiot David Cameron, big caption and snide grin like always. Someone had scrawled in big letters underneath it 'LYING TWAT' and given him a moustache. Nice. Ta for reminding me of that; gives me a bit of a laugh.
Except your message is a bit more refined and has some fucking good phrases in it: "and gun to head we stagger
shadow bled and cursing"