Email Poem

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Poem

I've got this listing, sinking feeling
that I owed most of my life to my bank.
Hands in the air, reaching for debt ceiling,
yet another fine mess, with no one to thank.

Guns all put down, the pen reigns mightier
can't fight the bank, let alone hit myself.
Contracts contracted, assurances flightier
seems the whole world's overextended itself.

I ode some words, I owed some dollars
'course everyone I talk to is in the same boat.
Can't answer my phone for collecting callers,
looking to ourselves, line of credit, to float.

I'm maxed they've determined, but I'm appealing
my mortgage, in arrears, beyond my credit score.
All my creditors say that defaulting is stealing
I gave a stone and blood, still they want more.

Seems to everyone, I owe myself, that's no joke
shouldn't be depressed, but maybe I oughter.
Dunno if I'm myself, or like all nations folk,
I've underwritten much of this ode underwater.

'course if I owe some B and B owes to C 
and C owes somebody else...well back to me,
then it seems that we all owe to each other,
our mountain of debt is brother to brother.

Would some rebalancing of our balance sheets
starve our children, kick us out into streets?
Maybe we should waive our bankruptcy hearing
and admit it's to life we're really endearing.

© Goode Guy 2011-06-10

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