The post-recession blues

I've cut down on my eating
And now I'm getting chills
As I've switched off the heating
To save the heating bills.

I tried to gain employment
But every door slammed shut,
To crush my last enjoyment
All benefit's been cut.

The bank sent me a letter
About the overdraft,
For greed no-one can better
Rich bankers and their craft;

They're propping up the euro,
Big bonuses are nice,
While I'm left with the bureau
For citizens' advice;

They asked me questions fastly
Then I filled in a form,
To plead for help is ghastly
When red tape is the norm.

The bailiffs said they're coming,
Though I can't work the stage
Maybe be I'll opt for bumming
And strumming for a wage;

Whoever throws a coin in
My hat, I hope they choose
To sing along and join in
The post-recession blues.


©

Description of a nightmare Musty. My heart goes out to anyone trapped in its clutches.

Hi Biz - the poem was inspired by an excellent Ralph McTell compilation album I bought recently. It has songs on it called Sleepy Time Blues and Hesitation Blues. Ralph is an acoustic guitar-playing folk singer, which gave me the idea for the end of the poem

I hadn't heard of Ralph McTell, but Wikipedia have a very informative page on him. I do remember hearing Streets of London.

A classic and a real tearjerker

Beneath our daylight miners plying their labour,
Risk of death and disaster is a near neighbour
Uptop-living folk would never certainly entertain,
Preferring safely in the benificent air to remain.

In small dark corridors brave men pay a big toll,
Hard as deep as black as low-lying elusive coal.
Safe close at home, never restive, women wait,
Eyes dart often at slow moving clocks if it's late.

A stir or two of hubby's stew is all there is to do,
He'll fall indoors knackered this she surely knew.
All fear ever to hear the sound of the mine alarm,
Indicating underground somebody stood in harm.

(to be continued)

Budget 2012


There’s simply no accounting for the deluge of upchucking
Of self-serving contemplation when no effing body’s luck’s in.
It’s redolent of playschool but as serious as lesions
When the pulse of all the nation at the turning of a season
Is confined to singularity and inward-looking martyrdom
While deepest cogitations down the dreaded email feed come.
Verging on the point of near and almost picture perfect collapse
You would think our sense of human unity would skip the relapse.

But they take to every channel with a valve that will the bile take
Find a target whose the fault is, hurtful deluge with their hands make.
Cut the legs from under, voice from over, heart to do it out of;
Anyone who has the balls to try and put themselves, their hopes out;
Sign the pledge and pay deposits, work a hundred hours a week to
Push against an age old system to make just one difference, if they can do.
And they slowly lose the will to give this much to get such hatred,
Gee. It’s really not worth trying; with the spirit of a chance dead.

The miner's lot isn't a happy one and this poem summed up the high risk-nature of the job. Nice one Frank

Another good social comment piece, an accurate swipe at the politicians who helped to create the financial mess we're in. Thanks for contributing again Patsy

I tried to think of something
That would work well to rhyme
But when I looked at the clock
I saw that it was bed time
I racked my brain quickly
Thinking I’m a clever chap
But in the end all I got
Was this pile of crap

Every little helps fr4nk - and is welcome.

Never mind Fr4nk, I've thought that about several of my poems too

Thanks Musty for commenting on mining poem, still in the writing.
Part 2 to follow.

Thanks Musty; that's just how I felt yesterday, though.....
Written on the spur of the moment after over-indulging in current affairs. A little bit of nonsense is really needed at times to switch off from the mess we're all in

Enjoyed the first part of the mining poem - I was reading through a thread in Politics last night on Margaret Thatcher and it was fascinating that this poem popped up at the same time.

I look forward to it Frank

Ain't that the truth!

the lift

Relaxed in first class seating
I flew from England to
A big USA meeting
(That's what high-flyers do).

The details I won't cover
But profit was the goal;
To cut and then recover
A good deal was my role.

Eventually I ended
Up in a cab I'd called,
What sights I comprehended,
Crowds thronged and traffic crawled.

Recalling city capers
The cabby laughed and weaved
Between the tall skyscrapers
Where human masses heaved.

Then my desired location
Appeared, I got out for
A business destination:
The ninety-seventh floor.

I saw the secretary,
Reception let me by,
I caught the lift to ferry
Me office-bound and high.

The empty room I entered
And as the door slid shut
My mind was only centred
On what deal I could cut.

It elevated nifty
And smooth to forty-nine
Yet under level fifty
It halted with a whine.

I thought gremlins had tinkered,
An error in the mix,
Assumptions that were blinkered;
Life plays the cruellest tricks.

Five minutes with no ringing,
No buzz, alarm or chime,
So I made do with clinging
To hope and bided time.

There wasn't much to notice,
Just marble shining black,
The metal name of Otis
Engraved upon a plaque.

My phone lacked a connection,
To no-one could I speak,
Not even to reception,
The signal was too weak.

Five minutes isn't really
A long time but it scrapped
The calm and it seems nearly
A lifetime when you're trapped.

My mood started started to sour,
A fish hooked by a net,
One claustrophobic hour
Is sure to make you sweat.

I had that sinking feeling,
A small and static cell,
Four walls, a floor and ceiling
Can be a living hell.

Yes, fate had turned the tables
By setting me a trap,
Suspended high on cables
I prayed would never snap.

My thoughts turned to religion
But swiftly they moved on,
I whistled Skyline Pigeon,
A song by Elton John.

Such sad lyrics concerning
A bird who left his cage;
By now my mood was turning
From deep despair to rage.

Were terrorists behind it?
To leave the Earth with scars
Had some force come to bind it,
Like aliens from Mars?

But if a bomb had shattered
I would have heard a sound,
The only thing that mattered
To me was being found.

'Stay calm, all systems are go'
Is what I want to hear
Yet all I am is cargo
Stuck in a box of fear.

O Christ switch on the power,
Can't someone let me out,
Imprisoned, sick and sour,
Three hours of fear and doubt.

Thank God I had a paper
And pen to write this ode,
I curse the vile skyscraper
That sent me this abode.

Imagination renders
The shaft and when I've crashed
Despite business agendas
These bones will linger smashed.

The bottom's far below me
And as my spirits drift
Have mercy God and show me
A way out of this lift.


©

I'm never going in a lift again, do you hear me, never.

However I'll be back here looking for more writings Frank and Patsy, as well as yours Musty and all the rest of the poets'.

I enjoy putting your mind at ease Biz

BTW did you understand the reference to 'The metal name of Otis'? It's visible in a lot of lifts - quote:

'The Otis Elevator Company is the world's largest manufacturer of vertical transportation systems today, principally focusing on elevators and escalators. Founded in Yonkers, New York, USA in 1853 by Elisha Otis, the company pioneered the development of the safety elevator, invented by Otis in 1852, which used a special mechanism to lock the elevator car in place should the hoisting ropes fail.'

Ho ho.


No, I didn't, I thought it was a musical thing. "Miss Otis regrets she's unable to lunch today" - an omen.

I've never been to America. I'm sure there have been many tense scenes in American films involving malfunctioning lifts and I've never heard of this safety feature. Do we have them in this country? If so I'll still be using the stairs from now on....................because you ended on a cliff-hanger (so to speak).

That poem actually gave me palpitations. Brilliantly evocative.

I've seen 'Otis' engraved in several British lifts Biz. I've never been to America either, as I have a pathological fear of flying.

Ta Patsy If a poem has any effect, even dread, I'm always pleased

Yup Patsy! It's just one nightmare after another. I think I'll go and hide my head in the sand.

I must keep my eyes open in future............oh no, I forgot, I won't be travelling in lifts in the future.

I'm not keen on flying either - that sensation as you lift off doesn't seem 'right'.

Anyway Musty we can travel to far corners of the world in our armchair these days - much more comfortable.

So true Biz

The European Union is 'EU',
The bureaucrats' lettered delight
But their new fiscal union's 'FU'
Which somehow just doesn't sound right.

Well you've got to laugh or you'd cry Musty. I remember having a sinking feeling when the EU was first set up. One thing I remembered from history lessons was that treaties were always broken.

I've just watched Panorama and it's unbelievable that the home of the railways is buying trains from Germany and closing their own works..............etc. etc. etc.

In the meantime, I've just had some chips and am thinking of following up with chocolate.