No Thanks to Banks

Don’t give another bailout to those failing banks. Buddy, don’t spare them a dime from the poor taxpayer. Rage! When they come around begging, rage, “No thanks!”   The economy’s engine could do with a few fiscal cranks, but the piles of systemic risk don’t need a new layer. Don’t give another bailout to those failing banks.   They get their bonus; you get to cover their flanks; in the blame game this makes you their most valuable player. Rage! When they come around begging, rage, “No thanks!”   Feds, put a stop to financiers’ credit swap pranks! “Too big to fail”? – Be the public’s dragon slayer. Don’t give another bailout to those failing banks.   They want drawn on the U.S. Treasury a checkbook of blanks payable to Wall Street, the free market’s greatest betrayer. Rage! When they come around begging, rage, “No thanks!”   The tarp only covered up ripped-off consumer angst – When sold a bill of goods, one should bill the purveyor. Don’t give another bailout to those failing banks. Rage! When they come around begging, rage, “No thanks!”
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Light Exercise

My writing’s working out. Forget about dinner. If put on hold, my poem might lose its bite, like me. (Excuses don’t come any thinner.)   It’s not as though I’m just some raw beginner who’s better off to eat well than to write. My writing’s working out. Forget about dinner   until I’m done. What diligent webspinner spins half its web then shuts down for the night? Like me, excuses don’t come any thinner   than, “To the muse’s spoils belongs the winner,” though I’d spoil what’s for dinner out of spite. My writing’s working out. Forget about dinner.   Forgive the flat tastes fit this starving sinner, but what goes on my tongue, be it delight like me. (Excuses don’t come any thinner.)   I crave a savory beauty cooked up inner – Such hunger doesn’t whet one’s appetite. My writing’s working out. Forget about dinner (like me). Excuses don’t come any thinner.
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Booted

“The risks to this outlook remain to the downside.”

Federal Reserve Chairman Ben S. Bernanke (27 feb 2008)

Kaboom! Kicked out of bed! Dumped on the floor!
Then all she said’s, “You know the reason why.”
I don’t get why. I only get what for.

The left side? or the right? Mine’s neither nor:
The downside’s where my head will have to lie.
Kaboom! Kicked out of bed! Dumped on the floor!

I must have ticked her off – She’s rather sore,
as deeply red as sunrise in the sky.
I don’t get why. I only get what for.

In case there’s anybody keeping score,
don’t be misled: my ass can really fly!
Kaboom! Kicked out of bed! Dumped on the floor!

Another kick might fly me through the door
with not one shred of hope before my eye.
I don’t get why. I only get what for.

I would have liked to sleep an hour more
or maybe two. Instead, sweet dreams, goodbye!
Kaboom! Kicked out of bed! Dumped on the floor!
I don’t get why. I only get what for.

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Vu Jade

I’ll say this once, repeat myself no more:
“I said I would return, and then I said,
`Hey wait, I’ve never been this way before.'”

I’m new here. Tell me, what’s the echo for?
Some vain belief one’s poetry gets read?
So read it once, repeat yourself no more.

Condemned to chance the maze forevermore,
The bat does mischief to the path charted.
But me, I’ve never been in here before.

Come again? You wish some old encore?
Don’t give me grief. I’ll make this up instead.
Let’s play it once, repeat ourselves no more.

The old, they fear to see a sign. So poor
Fools they, too brief the flash of lives they led,
As though they’ve never been like this before.

My first villanelle! Who could ask for more?
What strange relief to get it through my head!
I’ll try anything once, repeat myself no more;
I know I’ve never been this way before.

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