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Got The T-Shirt: A Venue Of Vultures

This poem by Steph Spiers accurately allocates blame for the world's current financial woes. If only the guilty had ears to hear!

For more of Steph's brilliant words please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/got_the_tshirt/

Stock Market Casinos:
Conscience free: High stakes:
Vultures with licences to print money.
Gambling the accumulated wealth of the little people.

No risk assessment, no overseen control.
Wild and reckless scavengers, pulling the wool
over the eyes of Johnny Foreigners.

All in the old-boys’ ruthless games.
Old school, refusing to accept reality.
Still self-back-patting.
Hefty bonus: ‘definitely deserved’
‘contractual obligation old chap’.

In denial! Tax-payer bail-out inevitable:
spluttering apologies with fingers crossed behind backs.
Red braces, rosy golf-club cheeks,
hard noses turning down the
sack-cloth and ashes.

Dear Boy: Accepting the knighthood.
Accepting the unearned millions.
Still doing the 18 holes!

Circling in a bald-nerve kettle, insulated
by ingrained plum-gob arrogance.
No dry mouth! No sweating palms!

Sleeping like a baby!
The screams of the jobless repossessed
crashing down around deaf ears.


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