Long Mortgages Poems
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I.
When Sullivan ‘Reno’ Richards rode into
the small, northern Utah town of Stillman,
he’d been unemployed going on three months
since he’d left his job as a hired gunhand.
He’d turned in his badge to the agency
when his brother Samuel had been killed,
and after settling things with his family,
he’d rode off to put to work his skills.
Reno would see that real justice was done,
he’d find the bastards who had done the deed,
and though his family looked down on it,
Reno was good at making bad folks bleed.
His father had disowned him for this fact,
Samuel had been his favorite child,
the man had expanded dad’ baking empire
way out west in the great desert wilds.
Dad had no respect for a ‘mere gun-hand,’
and wouldn't speak to Reno to this day,
but Samuel had not shared these beliefs,
and nothing ill of his brother did-say.
For that understanding, Reno now rode,
to the only hotel in this small town,
he’d sworn to his family that he would
put poor Samuel’s killers in the ground.
When settled in he went down to the bar,
ordered whiskey and took the sounds in,
listening for gossip that could be a clue,
when a young stumpet walked right up to him.
She said,”Hello, my name is Meredith,
and I can tell from the look of your eyes
that you must be one of Samuel’s kin,
you should know I was to be his wife.”
Reno looked at this woman in great surprise,
he had not heard Samuel planned to wed,
so he said to her,”I am his brother,
I came as soon as I heard he was dead.
“I’m here to take care of his affairs,
though I fear it might take me a while,
I understand he held the mortgages
of half the ranches within fifty miles.”
She smiled,”I’m glad somebody came out
to take care of the things left behind.
If you would like, I can take you out to
the grave where my poor Samuel lies.”
He nodded solemnly, and they walked to
a plot laying behind the town’s small church,
the dirt was still fresh, the stone not yet done,
there’d been no time to finish the work.
Reno asked then,”How did it happen?”
Meredith frowned, and then told hit the truth:
“Bandits bushwhacked him, in the back-country,
They took everything, even his shoes.”
Reno just nodded, took down his broad hat,
said,”I hope that the sherriff is on it.
My brother and I sometimes disagreed,
but he did nothing deserving of this…”
A decade of growth and decadent boom
People didn't mention the debt elephant in the room
It was the charge of the bull
Many pockets were full
The search for a higher return was the motivational pull.
But whilst stocks and shares rocked and flared
Investors held their breath in shock and fear
They seemed to forget that markets go up and markets go down
Because as long as uncertainty shows up, the cycle goes round
But to be fair the times were good, and returns seemed sure
The earnings of many corporations, continued to soar
The zeitgeist was the age of prosperity, profit and greed
It wasn't the time to question sustainability or question the need
Many financial advisers advised that it was the right way to go
"You should take advantage now, while all these rates of interest are low"
So many consumers took out mortgages, that they just couldn't afford
Including the 'sub prime', with bad credit, and of course the poor
But let's not forget, that the consumer went along, and played ball
Creatures of habit responding to the mating call, that beckoned us all
Deposits levels came down, loan-to-value went up
House prices bubbled and brimmed and we all drank from the cup.
Now the banks merged all of these mortgages together in lumps
Sold them as safe bets to investors, who were taken for chumps
Then the US housing market crashed
Now comes the the consequences
Unsurprisingly mortgage repayments started to slump
So called safe investments soon became worthless as junk
Families who had homes repossessed now facing the funk
Securitisation of mortgages now seemed so dumb
Regulators appeared powerless, dozing and numb
Lehman Brothers collapsed. America sneezed
The world became infected. Financial markets siezed
Governments and Central Banks now stepped into the fray
To prop up a system, that should have been reconfigured that day
Many banks were bailed; too big to fail.
The bankers who were at the wheel, too big to jail.
The humble tax payer was forced to post the cash
And many years later many banks still owe this cash
So the world was saved but here's the 'but'
The pubic purse was utilised, to escape the rut
Now all society must pay the price; take a hit to the gut
And suffer the pain, of historic public services cuts.
Mike Concise © 2015
www.mikeconcise.com
What's in a Name?
by Preston Hill
The Sun gives birth to dawn. We meet for the first time. We introduce. What’s your name?
We chat respectfully- all the while the sun continues to rise.
To think that once long ago in the cradle of humankind an idea sparked knowledge.
Testing, poking, prodding the mind, pushing thought into expression.
What was then an idea to be spoken was finally written down.
Pictograms on cave walls, diagrams of the hunt, the battle.
Pictograms on clay pots depicting commerce from a life long ago.
Pictograms on parchments that develop shapes, gestating onward to the formation of letters, words, ideas.
Of contracts, agreements, mortgages, governments, constitutions, proclamations.
Pictograms on chalkboards, blackboards, whiteboards on which an idea will be conveyed.
And children learn, apprentices advance, executives and politicians chart budgets and trends.
Pictograms on buildings, bridge abutments, railway cars declaring “This place is ours”.
And as ideas spread so did humankind. Wars and peacetime. Love and hate. Dignity and honor.
All emotion within passed from one generation to the next as the sun climbs higher in the sky.
And on one small piece of ground a family, a clan, a tribe, a village began to grow giving titles to their neighbors in relation to their geography.
Mr. Rock, Mr. Hill, Mr. Rivers greeted with a jaunty wave of the hand.
Then John had a son. Then Samuel had a son. Then Lars had a son.
Yearning for identity, Mr. Cooper, Mr. Smith and Mr. Baker began to teach their trades and build a future, contributing to the economy and serving others.
Soon, the village grew into a town, the town into a city. Nations and states formed and families, clans, tribes and cultures pooled together with separate and distinct idiosyncrasies.
In every language and aspect ideas spread, carrying seeds from the beginning.
Leaving their expectations, hopes, fears and dreams imprinted on the pages of history.
And as the sun reaches its apex, I look at my watch. You ask me, “What’s in a name?”.
I reply, “The world”, then smile politely and change the subject.
I have no idea how on earth i got here
I am a prisoner in a phantom prison of fear
I wish to escape and live my life a fugitive
But the warden watches me and i can never leave
My heart once whole is in pieces like a pizza
And its so cold as if my chest cavity is a freezer
I always thought as long as the sky remains blue
That there will be someone who will always love me true
But I am here alone, the dead end of all dead ends
Gossiping with ghosts, my only true friends
Standing in confusion at the crossroads of darkness
Shivering from this bitter winter that whirls with madness
I am a puppet with too many string attached
They treat me like an object, neither born nor hatched
Made to break my back, the inevitable daily bread toil
Earth is a title of deeds, and i own not a speck of soil
The world is still at war, super powers and alliances
Selling you currencies and electronic home appliances
In the name of technology you have to pay your bills
In the name of good health, you have to take your pills
I grew up innocently fast, a wide-eyed young fella
Clumsily surfing the modern tides, era of the bachelor
Television and movies; social media and smart phones
Heartbreaks and divorces; mortgages and quick loans
Made to believe I could be anything I wanted
Only to be made sleepless as my mind is haunted
By unfulfilled dreams and never-ending bankruptcy
Dog eat dog world still, deeper bites and lesser mercy
Every morning am washed ashore, to play again the same role
To drag my feet through mud as I try to reach a landlocked goal
They program me with no progress, no happy day i see
My fruitless efforts entertain them; the powers that be
Am always trying to catch the bus, while age tries to catch me too
Am getting worn out every year, just like my fake-leather shoe
All the struggling and running is in vain, it winds up down one place
The grave is soon to have me, whether i slow or quicken my pace
I will never be happy, life tastes worse than a plain meal with no spices
Am set like a bomb, about to go off in my midlife crisis
Luck is a poor man who in this world was never born
"Life is a gift!", whoever said that is a con
Sometime ago, I was fat in the land of Plenty.
I lived on the Savanna, and worshipped the ancestors.
Sometime ago, a horde of barbarians came to the Savanna,
They called me “Savage”. Yet I had no idea of what “Savage” meant.
So I asked the ancestors, “What is a savage?”
And the ancestors said to me, “It is what you will become if you do not fight the
horde with all of your might!”
But I did not listen. And I became greedy, and struck a deal with the horde.
I said, “I may be savage, but I will give you many savages, and you give me gold
coin”.
And the barbarians smiled.
Sometime ago, a horde of barbarians took my brothers and sisters to a new land.
And made them into “savages”.
And now they walk the streets of their own neighborhoods, seeing whom they
may devour.
And me, I did not receive gold coin from the barbarians.
Rather, I received a shanty and diamonds that I couldn’t touch, and oil that was
no longer mine.
Rather, I received prisons with salt water, when I spoke against apartheid.
And I am thin in the land of plenty.
Barbarians now hunt on my Savanna, and call me a poacher if I do the same.
Barbarians call my brothers and sisters to the west “street savages”.
Yet they watch people die inside from exclusion.
Yet they watch people die outside from frostbite.
Yet they watch people struggling to pay medical bills, and scream, “No Taxes!”
Yet they watch people struggling to pay mortgages and scream, “My hard earned
money won’t support those dag on shiftless savages!”
Even though some time ago, they sat inside while such savages made them an
empire.
Even though it is not just savages, but barbarians too, who can’t pay their
mortgages.
But me, I am thin in the land of plenty.
I am thin, and getting thinner.
But soon, soon, I will remember what the ancestors told me.
I will remember to fight with all of my might.
Not with spears or swords or guns, the way of old.
But with my mind!
With logic, with reason, and with the mighty power of the ancestors.
I will overthrow the way of the barbarians.
And I will be fat in the land of plenty.
Do you remember ever holding your deeds.? Paper
Links to real estate freehold' an epitome; one seed.'
Of human independance.? Be that what it may be? In
A bundle of actions' often tersely displayed dotted
Lines on draughtsmans paper-like a greaseproof affair'
Pages upon pages quite a bundle i declare.' Swirls of
Trees there depicted solid lines for the boundries. Dotted
For water or gas? Pastel shaded sections everything
That you had' shown by the inch and draughted with care
On your 'title in freehold' all was done for you there'
And then in the noughties.!! Everything changed? when
You recieved your entitlements (nothing was the same)
One sheet came out of a printer with no history there .?
No notes in 'the margins' cause they neither were as spare!
Just your name' and brief details, the sum of the sale this they'd made!
All so bland and impersonal' my thoughts were assailed.'
I complained to the lawyer..Who informed me they're real!
Yet i saw anyone could get a copy.' I did not like the feel; of this deal.!
I requested the familiar ones!! She said they are now gone.'
And no longer legal.? My thoughts were whats going on??
Its like the worth is devalued!! in a communist way??
Oh no I was informed all is..As it was! And all's still au' faire
Then there were cases a few years along of deeds being
Downloaded to take mortgages upon.? The freeholder
Not knowing' till the imposters default.' Then the baliffs
Came calling to posses' what was bought.? Causing
Heartache and trauma un-needed legal re course.' All this
Should be telling us whats occuring with legality whole'
I now see I've been robbed lied to and cheated in short
The real deeds..The were stole.) There must be many of
You out there with just such a case? The redress would
Be worth chasing.' Indeed to stop the erase' of a pillar
Of freedom that maybe even Russia has re-built? not to mention
Re imbursements make them pay to the hilt.' There may
Be those on the street' who fell foul of this all?? Their
Only fault being too trusting' in the failing city halls!
Life is much bigger than I imagined it could be,
There is more beyond the horizon of Hope through my Faith.
I am Uniquely made as seen by the different shades of me
With the out -bursting of colors depicting a side that some
May never know - happy and gay, rejoicing, celebrating, funny,
hilarious, witty, caring, loving, appreciative, satisfied.
Strong of character but often self-willed, and usually turn the "other
Cheek" too.
Reminiscing on good things in bygone days and share
Experiences, direct and indirect which propels the renewal of thoughts
of what could still be done,
By using learned knowledge and skills in other ways, I
Create, evolve, develop and initiate whatever God directs me to do.
I cannot imagine how vast a prospect God's Purpose is for me,
But I do remember that Life is much bigger than I imagine it could be!
So, I regurgitate past achievements to Capture the color and mix,
To be a fit in Society's go-getting World!
Emulating the Lord when He asked: "Who do men say that I am"?
I use the gift of penmanship to excavate what got hidden inside of me.
I endeavor to search deep within and skillfully share in philosophy,
Humanity, nature, emphatic for emotional and physical pain.
Look deep into my soul and glimpse what God sees
Simplicity does not mean "Walk All Over Me."
My pen gliding over the page as I write, can tell from images
"Painted" the true quality of me.
It establishes a "blueprint" like in the DNA when mRnA transforms
And transcribes " messages". So like the pens of Poets I opt to portray
The best of me, striving for that Perfect point to be
Released through the "window" of expertise that God loaned me.
God too is engaged in poetry as some Psalms of David show.
Like Reverse Mortgages He loans gifts and talents by beginning from the
first to the last. Thus, his subjects display talents with youth and taper
off with age.
Even switching from skill to skill, the "blueprint" is the same DNA.
What I develop, evolve or initiate, the background is the same!
Puzzle Man
Sex is sex with connections
According to “them”, chemistry plays a part
There are a lot of ins and outs, ups and downs with coitus
It has been suggested certain parts are needed for functionality
Utilization of external & internal parts might be required
Facts of life in accordance with birds and bees philosophy
“They” say it’s all about relations, (perhaps aided by vibrators or vibrations)
There are 3 kinds of sex;
1.) Playing by oneself with one self
2.) Sex between 2 persons
3.) Orgies? Or morgies? Or mortgages? (ménage a trios might fit this
category)
I’m confused about mortgages and it does not sound like fun
Then there’s sex with animals but that’s just wrong
Commitment plays another part, free will with honor, monogamy
Other people pay for it. (Don’t get lost. Stay focused. We’re talking sex.)
A business transaction, that comes with or without diseases
Trying not to be litigious
“They” also say other things regarding human beings and sex
Compatibility, social, economic, religious components weigh in
All is well with puzzle man….if he has a home, a job, a car
The car, as far as we know, always trumps a bike when dating
Competition is healthy in relations “they” say
Parties involved in coitus know
Sex doesn't happen on its own
One must be properly lubricated and maintained
Like an auto or chu chu train
I imagine it must be like a banana penetrating a donut
Not a savory sight
Again…. You need a home, or shopping cart, or car
Even up in a tree will do if you’re in the mood
To be accomplished
Reading books on what parts fit with other parts is desirable
They say the most important thing about such things is love
I wouldn't know about such things
It’s all a puzzle to a little man like me
I only have a bicycle you see so sex is out of the question
Also, I’m only 3
Mother is about to bathe me
She had better keep her hands to herself
I want to figure these things out alone and by myself
One day this old earth shall pass,
When the cosmic gods unleash their last damning curse.
Everything will be digested, into the bellies of a billion skies,
The black smoke will paint hands, waving a billion goodbyes.
It will be the end of all roads:
The day the sun explodes.
There will be no one to witness this earth-shattering glory.
No reporter will cover this last breaking story.
The curtain of history will come down in a stellar blast.
The present will marry the future and become one past.
It will be the greatest show on earth, but no audience or applauds:
The day the sun explodes.
Physical matter will become statistics, that will never again matter.
There will be nothing to record, and no one to enter the data.
Gold will be worthless, unredeemable by dollars or pounds,
When the periodic table goes haywire, and bonds all its compounds.
No defense gadgets, stock markets or computer codes:
The day the sun explodes.
Millions of years dominated by the greed of humanity,
Reduced to vanity by unstoppable cosmic insanity.
Leaving nothing to stand, not a strand of grass nor a city.
Annihilating everything with no pity or peace treaty.
In a colorful ceremony to mark the end as it unfolds:
The day the sun explodes.
It will be the last day for the outdoors, the brightest sunlight,
But neither will a girl hold an ice cream, nor a boy fly a kite.
The last carnival on earth, the summer of all summers,
Before the gods bang together, their thunderous hammers.
No picket-fenced suburbs, no mortgages and leaseholds,
The day the sun explodes.
The sun is like a big whale and the earth its worm-like bait,
On a nuclear collision course, to set the record straight.
Not even our millennial graves will be respected.
While we are resting in peace, they will be desecrated.
Lakes and oceans will evaporate with fossils of fish and toads.
The day the sun explodes.
The years before 2008 back when are economy was still standing great.
Money was carelessly spent as people thought their wealth; would never melt away but how wrong were they?
Fancy new cars and two or three holidays in the sun a year people thought their cushy life's would never disappear.
The building trade was booming and no one knew that money problems were looming .
Everyone had higher wages; bigger cars and could afford to eat out and drink in fancy bars.
But then in 2008 our economy fell; into a economic hell . As businesses could no longer sell.
Money became tighter and everyone soon knew; it was the end of are economic boom .
Mortgages couldn’t be paid and half built homes with empty hallways where people should have been; just empty like a poor family’s hopes and dreams. Ghost estates were everywhere in the country dozens of houses built now only filled with dirt and filth now for only rats to roam these lonely ghost estates alone.
Morale went down as anger rose from teary-eyed emotions of family’s and well educated people having to leave behind ;
Their memoires and past times in search of a better life in another country they feel; has jobs with a better deal.
Family’s tore apart , heats are broken, small businesses are no more ,the people of the emerald isle no longer smile.
Streets once booming with noise and people; now as quiet as a church steeple .
Less cars drive on are roads as animals are abandoned from their homes .
Crime rates rise up like fire and danger is higher .
Suicidal thoughts are in more peoples minds because their bills keep counting and their tears are mounting.
All the foreigners who once saw are country as a place of hope;now only see are country as been broke
A great economy Ireland used to be; but now just a faded memory of what are country used to be .