Can Crime Pay? 1054
When comptroller would syphon a dollar,
one may hear loud and clear victims holler!
Red-faced and red handed
the bait is soon landed, -
can crime pay in our heyday white collar?
Bank bonus 'spite bail-outs are awful
not for long should they still seem dream lawful,
for when losses accrue
all life-savings we knew
must to dust turn to leave debts - a store full.
Sphinx Madoff may try on promotion
bankrupt pyramid raising commotion,
chickens come home to roost
soon or late, busting boost;
greenback backing's vanishing potion.
There's hot water, not flight, facts discovered,
Where the spotlight's bright glare acts uncovered,
guilt is tried, bail denied,
for a wide span inside, -
but its rash to think all cash recovered.
(8 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
She'll Boot Her Commuter-Taken for a Hairy Ride-Tongue Twisters II
Computing commuters hirsute
bawdy brutes though in collar and suit,
who as train hoots toot-toot
spy true beauty who’s mute,
on the fly give glad eye dissolute.
But each guy who sighs tries in pursuit,
who would lie, by and by, eye acute,
may through pride overshoot
by a wide margin moot
when he’d take for a ride maid astute.
Though some smiles superficial seem cute,
minds too sly should be given the boot,
be it beauty or loot,
or the two should it suit,
the solution seems 'ready, aim, shoot! '
Though this limerick sounds convolute
underground rails its humour to boot:
as a duty uproot
both at work and en route,
trample root underfoot and then scoot!
(Jonathan Robin limerick written 4 July 2006 and 16 July 2007
Parody Carolyn WELLS Tongue Twisters – A Tutor)
Tongue Twisters - A Tutor
A tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
“Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot? ”
(Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942)
Can Crime Pay?
When comptroller would syphon a dollar,
one may hear loud and clear victims holler!
Red-faced and red handed
the bait is soon landed, -
can crime pay in our heyday white collar?
There’s hot water, not flight, facts discovered,
Where the spotlight’s bright glare acts uncovered,
guilt is tried, bail denied,
for a wide span inside, -
but its rash to think all cash recovered.
(Jonathan Robin limerick written July 4 2006)
Tongue Twisters I - A Canner
A canner exceedingly canny
One morning remarked to his granny,
‘A canner can can
Anything that he can,
But a canner can’t can a can, can he? ’
(Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942)
Tongue Twisters I – Uncanny Reply
Her granny, a Canada dancer,
In answer said, “fancy to chance a
can-can grand finale
with dandy kali from Bali,
handy fanny expansive – you can, sir! ”
(Jonathan Robin limerick written July 4 2006/Parody Caroyn WELLS Tongue Twisters – A Canner)
Tongue Twisters III – ICANNy Reply
Danny, spammer ensconced on his fanny,
upgraded downloading Net Nanny, -
as damned scam the man planned
phishing fish, cash in hand,
and a land line - LAN managed tyranny.
Wifey Annie, on WiFi, uncanny,
schemed to trace where his face raced web-cammy, -
both continue to surf
under eye of Vint Cerf
and his Internet dream team ICANNy.
(Jonathan Robin limerick written July 4 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red White And Blue
We don't have no plastic L.A. Frynds,
ain't on the edge of no popular trend.
Ain't never seen the inside of that magazine GQ.
We don't care if you 're a lawyer, or a texas oil man,
or some waitress busting ass in some liquor stand.
If you got Soul
We hang out with people just like you
My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
we've always been,
Red, White, and Blue
Ride our own bikes To Sturgis
we pay our own dues,
smoking camels, drinking domestic BREWS
You want to know where I have been
just look at my hands
Yeah, I've driven by the White House,
Spent some time in jail.
Momma cried but she still wouldn't pay my bail.
I ain't been no angel,
But even God, he understands.
My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
we've always been,
Red, White, and Blue
Yeah that's right!
My Daddy worked hard, and so have I,
paid our taxes and gave our lives
to serve this great country
so what are they complaining about
Yeah we love our families, we love our kids
you know it is love that makes us all so rich
That's where were at,
If they don't like it they can just
get the HELL out!
Yeah!
My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take Your Profits
Quick! Take your profits while you may
on shares today high flying,
rare heights beware, lest, oh despair!
tomorrow sees scared sighing.
Stock indices rise like the sun,
the higher they're a-getting,
the sooner is sharp fall begun,
and then farewell to betting.
Since all time lows stockmarkets soared,
thanks to new ‘cash for clunkers’,
when re-employment is off-shored,
who’ll hide in gilt-edged bunkers?
Beware mad Madoff Ponzi schemes
as global crisis deepens,
which threaten true American dreams
as housing value cheapens.
Once caught on hop when prices drop
investors need be nifty,
to foreclosed shop turns mirage crop -
stay healthy and stay thrifty!
Beware Banks which two centuries
have boomed through bankrupt backing
exposure which turned mirage tease
with refinancing lacking.
When toxic loans come home to roost
who'll chicken out? the sanest!
for debt repayments bank on boost
for tax increases plainest.
Take rapid turn lest bridges burn
and melt down mark-up merry,
for salad days may not return,
and Charon waits with ferry.
Though dead cats bounce, the large amounts
at stake aren’t worth the candle
when every ounce of cash that counts
cannot provide true handle.
That option’s best that loss cuts first,
sight clear and reason colder,
the acid test when bubbles burst –
survivor’s not the bolder!
Stay somewhat coy, enjoy life, Time
enacts its tribute, parry
Fate’s base alloy, hedge hard-earned dime,
Stocks, tumbling, seldom tarry.
The risks increase with each percent,
but greed all fears forgetting,
may tempt – green money has no scent –
beware red fall’s bloodletting...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Is One Blamed?
Silence is golden, guilt remains ashamed
to hold up to the spotlight’s piercing glare
sentiments submersive, - is one blamed
if feelings are confided, shown to share?
One little thought to sense love’s lightening strike,
topple defensive certainties! The door,
once triple locked, is sprung, unsportsmanlike,
yet that which leaves one poor rich makes one more!
Rich one through knowing t’other, outlook clear,
poor when discovered what was lacked before
shows distance from the truth, who ‘self’ held dear.
This understanding makes self ‘self’ abhor.
Thus these short lines should shun flight, favour hope,
To-morrow’s stars spotlight bright horoscope.
(29 October 1992, revised 2 May 2007, final couplet modified 15 October 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Fishing Rods, Guns And God
Some say: Give me a fishing rod
so when I start to wish
for food I needn’t pray to God:
I’ll catch myself a fish.
Some think that rifles or revolvers
may solve their problems better,
becoming with such problem solvers
to God a lifer debtor.
All fishing rods are just like guns
in any fish’s eyes,
but I feel merciless when one’s
my dinnertime fish prize.
A bank account won’t save a fish
from dying, but with one
you may prepare a sauce that’s pish,
and not be forced to run
away from cops or into church
or synagogue for aid,
for it won’t leave you in the lurch,
demanding debts be paid.
Inspired by Nicholas Kristof’s Op-Ed in the NYT, December 31,2009 “Sparking a Savings Revolution”) :
There’s an old saying about poverty: Give me a fish, and I’ll eat for a day. Give me a fishing rod, and I’ll eat for a lifetime. There are many variations in that theme. In Somalia, I heard a darker version: If I buy food, I’ll eat for a day. If I buy a gun, I’ll eat every day. But these days, there’s evidence that one of the most effective tools to fight global poverty may be neither a fishing rod nor a gun, but a savings accounts. What we need is a savings revolution. Right now, the world’s poor almost never have access to a bank account. Cash sits around and gets spent — and, frankly, often spent badly.
12/31/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Bailing Water
you measure the level
of success of a man's life
not by how many people
show up at his funeral;
but by how many people
show up to help him to
bail water out of a sinking boat...
usually in direct correlation
to how many boats and how
many people he's helped
bail in the past!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Off-limits
There was a soul-searching
after a negative assassination
tearing my past, my future.
Beneath the burden
lies the mountain of bail-outs.
You don’t feel whole
in shadows of countings.
The borders were breached
for lavish darkness
alive under the full moon.
Was it a flight risk in a swan
lake, when you were
taking a dive to pluck the
erupting fire of indictment.
poem by Satish Verma
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White Collar Crime
I'm not hungry, (?) throw away the key (?)
It's outrageous, nobody cares,
White collar crime, you had the time,
Blue collar crime, you'll do time every time,
Stealing from the company, taking all the profits,
Sharing with your family, drinking all the benefits,
(?), shocking, it's all so mocking,
White collar crime, you don't have the time,
Blue collar crime, you'll do time every time,
You can get away with it, will they get away with it?
Do they get away with it? yes, they get away with it.
Burn money today, free money tomorrow,
(?) goes my mind, causes so much sorrow,
(?), it's all the same, it's a money power game
White collar crime, you do the time,
Blue collar crime, you do time every time
White collar crime, you don't have the time,
Blue collar crime, you do time every time
All the same, money power game,
It's all the same, money power game,
It's all the same, it's a money power game,
All the same, it's a money, a money, power, the power game,
It's all the same.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Collar Man
(Travis Tritt/Gary Rossington)
I don't like hangin' out with a high dollar crowd
I ain't no socialite I'm a little too loud
I don't do garden parties sippin' hot tea
Down in some honky tonk, brother
That's the place for me
A hard days livin' is all that I understand
Well, I owe my soul to MasterCard
I'm a blue collar man
I bust my bottom every day eight to five
I come home draggin' feelin' barely alive
The kids are screamin', house is turned upside down
Need a bulldozer just to find my way around
Don't like caviar, we like our soup from a can
Yeah, I keep my life simple
I'm a blue collar man
Don't need computers handlin' my bank account
Balance my checkbook there's a zero amount
Four-carat diamond's not on my lady's hand
We live a life rich folks could never understand
I make my livin' with these two hard workin' hands
Won't ever be no millionaire
I'm a blue collar man
Won't ever be no millionaire
I'm a blue collar man
I'm a blue collar man
I'm a blue collar man
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What's Going On With The Chickens?
What's going on with the chickens?
'No one really knows exactly how all of this started.
Or wish to connect any of this,
To the making of common sense.
They are baffled.
We are baffled.
And since it was reported,
Those chickens were going home to roost...
Well,
The abundance of eggs they once had laid...
Has been limited to quite a few.
And 'now'...
Someone has decided to use them,
In some foolish sexual preference dispute.'
And...
Who is that guy tied up to the chair?
'He was the one who first declared,
A suspicion he had that chickens everywhere...
Were preparing to come home to roost.'
Oh yes...
I remember.
He was the one daring to tell the truth about the chickens.
And he was labelled a racist too.
'What are they calling the people,
Choosing to protect their rights...
Not to cater to those with same sex appetites? '
Conveniently they have called them conservatives.
'Has everyone lost their minds? '
I have no idea.
But grateful I am to be a vegetarian.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Modern Banking Crisis Resolution
liquidate cash flow problems
corporate banking greed misdeed bail outs
government tax payer money grease banker errors
sector left suffering nations’ poorest citizens
third world not developing starvation death price pays
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I Wont Be the 'Chief of Relief
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
Did you get my letter in the mail,
Saying I wont bail out your failure.
Did you get my letter in the mail?
You shoulda got it without fail.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
For your reach outs when your grieving.
No I wont be the 'chief of relief'.
To be there only when you need me!
The time has gone,
To sing that same old song!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Drench
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
In up to our necks
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
There's a light there to steer it
A fear that is peeling
And soaking us up
Into a slow-motion freezer
Division is leaving
Everything stops
It's overexposure
Stop running off on me
It's overexposure
Stop running off
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
In up to our necks
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Did you forget what you came in for?
Still shaking the rain off
Fresh from the storm
So we saved up the good stuff
And scrapped for the liferaft
Pistols at dawn
It's overexposed
And only tits and teeth remain
It's overexposed
Keep your filthy hands off
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
Had it up to here
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
Had it up to here
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
In up to our necks
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Come and fight back
Need some help here
Bail us out
Had it up to here
Drenching never stops
Fish us out
Fish us out
Fish us out
Fish us out
Fish us out
And it looks enough for all of us to get soaked...
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Seer
'BELOW there are white-faced throngs,
Their march is a tide coming Higher;
Below there are white-faced throngs,
Their faith is a banner flung higher;
Below there are white-faced throngs,
White swords they have yet, but red songs;
Place and lot they have lost hear you not?
For a dream you once dreamed and forgot!'
'But a dream has a life of its own
The wizard seas it can cross
A dream has a life of its own
It comes like the albatross.
A dream has a life of its own,
From my feet to your feet it has flown
And you, you victorious
That wild, white thing will lose!'
poem by Padraic Colum
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The Dollar Stores Feb 6th 2011
There’s some guy or girl out in China right now making stuff,
For me and you in the dollar store and it’s never enough,
Inside a plastic package that’s very hard to pull apart,
How did all this come about and when did it all start?
And they usually have enough cashiers so I can get out,
Not like some stores where a lack of cashiers put me in deep doubt,
But the dollar store passing multitudes, seem cheerful enough,
Although they have to sell one hell of a pile of dollar stuff.
I just hope the present national relationships persist,
And we don’t start behaving like the others don’t exist,
And the dollar stores remain where they are for a long long time,
Because at the dollar store, you can save a lot more than a dime
Feb 6th,2011
poem by James Bredin
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My Question to Alan Greenspan and Ben Bernanke
When banks went bankrupt, to bail them out
The government gave them a cushy handout
When the rest of economy went to recession
The government tried to make a good impression
It printed trillions of fiat money
To rescue all friends of the Easter Bunny
To provide the necessary wherewithal
To spend its way out of the hole
The politicians were not aware
While they built the bridges that lead to nowhere
That money is also a finite resource
They had good intentions: for better or for worse
Inflation and taxes beyond any doubt
Caused my retirement fund wipe out
My finances were trapped, I couldn’t get any cash
When stocks and bonds have turned into trash
I was paying my mortgage & credit card debt
I spent money wisely, my expenses were capped
With banks in default, the dollar’s inflating
I still retain 5-star credit rating
Hey, Mr.Bernanke and Mr.Greenspan
Something is wrong with your genius plan
Would you, please, tell me, whose fault is that -
People are suffering and banksters are fat?
***
August 23,2009
poem by Slava Olchevski
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A Lure For The Spotlight
A lure for the spotlight
lies in everyone somewhere.
At some point in our lives,
everyone wants the centre stage
and have the spotlight on them.
Some just dream about it
to pass the time away,
other have a natural gift
and in the spotlight stay.
When the spotlight shines on you
scrutinizing everything you do,
you want it to go away.
You want your life
to go back to the way it was.
However, when the spotlight
has been on you
it will never leave you alone.
It will be with you
for the rest of your days.
15 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Crime Time
Death cab for cutie
Sung it like a beauty
Stepped out forgetting
Danger has a duty
Lonely night
He wants to squeeze her tight
They murder for a dollar
No one hears you holler
Wrap up your baby
Then youll be a scholar
Chorus:
Love stops knocking, your heart starts rocking
Its crime time
Out on the main land
Hit him with a right hand
Stepped on his ego
Now he fells like a man
Do it right
Its a lonely fight
Playing fats waller
Lipstick on your collar
Back in 1950
People had their honour
(chorus)
They murder for a dollar
No one hears you holler
Wrap up your baby
Then youll be a scholar
song performed by by Culture Club
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only Us
Only us [x3]
It wasnt in the words that kept sticking in their throats
It wasnt with the angels in their quilted coats
These battered wings still kick up dust
Seduced by the noise and the bright things that glisten
I knew all the time I should shut up and listen
And Im finding my way home from the great escape
{chorus:}
The further on I go, oh the less I know
I can find only us breathing
Only us sleeping
Only us dreaming
Only us
I hear you calling me
Yes I hear you calling me
Home from the great escape
Yes I can read you loud and clear
The further on I go, oh the less I know
Friend or foe, theres only us
[chorus]
Im coming home again, home again
And I hear you calling me home again
I am coming home again
Only us [x8]
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Riddles. -- 1710
Sphinx was a monster that would eat
Whatever stranger she could get,
Unless his ready wit disclosed
The subtile riddle she proposed.
OEdipus was resolved to go
And try what strength of parts would do;
Says Sphinx, on this depends your fate;
Tell me what animal is that
Which has four feet at morning bright,
Has two at noon, and three at night?
'Tis Man, said he, who, weak by nature,
At first creeps, like his fellow-creature,
Upon all four; as years accrue,
With sturdy steps he walks on two;
In age at length grows weak and sick,
For his third leg adopts the stick.
Now, in your turn, 'tis just, methinks,
You should resolve me, Madam Sphinx,
What greater stranger yet is he
Who has four legs, then two, then three;
Then loses one, then gets two more,
And runs away at last on four?
poem by Matthew Prior
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