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Bail, Baby, Bail! |
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by Joan Penn
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1:00 |
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The economy is crashing
and the Fed has been dashing
to bail out the Big Guys,
the Wise Guys, the Sly Guys,
the Huge-Home-in-the-Caymans
Guys, with fistfuls of freshly-minted money,
to cushion the battered playing field
with virgin green-backs
in a frantic scrimmage
to circumvent a cataclysmic crash
landing with golden parachutes
that fall from a computerized horizon.
All hail virtual reality, Baby.
The time has come to bail, Baby;
This is not the time to wail, Baby.
Issue free tissue to our Sniveling Pals, Baby,
those Stampeding-Herds-of-Elephants, Baby,
and all those Braying Donkeys, Baby.
All those high-flying businessmen,
regarded for their acumen. Whatever
happened to plain old common sense?
Surprise, Guys?
Nobody saw this coming, Guys?
Are there blinders on your eyes, Guys?
Political expediency be damned, Guys!
Stop playing musical chairs
with big bundles of bad mortgages.
Stop cooking the books and carrying on
like crooks, or prepare to exchange
pin stripes for prison stripes.
Bail, Baby, bail!
Before we all end up
bankrupt!
Joan Penn lives in NYC and is a freelance photographer. Her photographs have appeared in The New York Times, Post, and Daily News, as well as in books and periodicals. She is also a news junkie and is a devotee of PBS News and The Times. She loves to write and has studied poetry with Jeanne Marie Beaumont and Scott Hightower.
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