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Economic Poetry Slam!
Alright, it's time to channel your inner poet. I thought we'd try a little poetry slam about the economy. A couple things prompted this idea. Yesterday, our foreign editor John Buckley sent me the Wordsworth poem "Daffodils" in a cheer-up effort I suppose, since the news has been so crappy this week. Then, I overheard host Tess Vigeland doing a run-through of Marketplace before the show, and she accidentally pronounced the word economics like acheonomics. That was spontaneous poetry if I've ever heard it.
So I wrote a little poem, and I'll tell you what. I feel better. If you feel inspired, add a little poem to the comments section. Just a couple lines if you want.
I'll start it off. Here's my poem, with title inspiration from Tess :)
Acheonomics
I've never been tickled with money
But I bet it hurtsCredit cards don't cut
They slide easily
But try picking a lock with debtTry picking a stock instead
Pointless
Eight thousand points lessWall Street was a Dutch defense
More Hedge than Wall
Didn't keep out the Brits
Or the Twits, at allWhen Bears attack
Don't run
According to Wikipedia
But Bulls can catch you too.
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This is not a SLAM type poem and this format may mess with the line breaks, but this poem was inspired by being surrounded by foreclosures and wondering what might happen next.
Hard Times: January 2009
The new year and all the bubbles have burst.
Before Christmas, the neighbor's yard was filled
with inflated hopes:Santa, Frosty, Rudolph and the whole gang, spotlit and swaying
in their own breezes, towering
and teetering toward the holidays
like a miniature Macy's parade.
Now all those luminaries litter the lawn,
a collection of collapsed dirigibles,
deflated and dead, like wrinkled corpses
on a suburban battlefield, as if
the Grinch never learned to sing
and pulled the plug on them all.
They've been there for weeks.
Has that neighbor given up
and quietly moved out?
Or is simply waiting for a miracle,
for Santa to rise again as the Easter Bunny, with all his eggs in some new basket.
Not my best one. And the format has messed up my line-breaks. But here it is.
Commercial Paper
This corner is the best corner for hawking poems. Ten for a dollar, twenty for twenty dollars is how commerce works now. Blessed are the modest-est commodities. Enforced need ups their value. "Extra! High quality verse worth exactly the old scrap it's printed on! Extra is all we ever expected! Read about it here in the Authoritative Train-wreck Sonnet!" This poem will brighten your day. Especially if you take it home and burn it. I've always wanted to light up hundreds of capricious dollars. Now I must. Matches cost a whole foreclosed house worth of state quarters. Is that too many images? Very well then it's too many images. I'll stamp "Now with 20% Extra" on the bottom of this poem and raise your expectations and dash them.
"Now With 20% Extra"
Bernanke's beard appeared in a dream.
Too much CNBC.
Swap my credit defaults.
My assets are toxic.
Kai Ryssdal, I used to love you.
I need quantitative easing.
Or a massage.
Tonight it is Geitner's forehead.
I open my eyes but it's still there.
Economy let me be.
(With apologies to Paul McCartney)
Yesterday: I had lots of money yesterday.
Now it looks as though it's gone away.
Oh I believe in yesterday.
Suddenly, my funds are half of what they used to be.
Recession's hanging over me.
Yesterday came suddenly.
Why they took my dough, I don't know,
They wouldn't say.
I did nothing wrong, but now I long for yesterday.
Yesterday, investing was a game to play.
Now I have an empty 401K.
Oh I believe in yesterday.
Why I have no dough, I think I know,
There is no doubt.
It is my turn now, I need a fat bail out.
No offense, but you didn't really write a slam, more like a 60's coffee club.
Slams read more like:
SLAM
your head against a wall
don't that beat all
the dow takes a nosedive
changing what the average Joe's drive
well I must say, sakes alive
it's hard to thrive
waiting for food stamps to arrive
in the mail
stay out of jail
without fail
where they just might take your door and
SLAM
it with you still in it
but at least you still get three squares
why didn't I listen to the market bears
giving a whole new meaning to market "bull"
not gonna say of what those pundits are full
I don't know why they get so much pull
when they rant and rave
that I should scrimp and save
all-in, stocks, just like poker
what a joker
equally sound economic advice from Al Roker
knocked out my economic legs with a red hot stoker
But there's a bright side,
when you are on the right side
finding value in who's by your side
playing with kids while outside
stripping me of all excess pride
treasuring a simple kiss from my beautiful bride
sitting at the beach watching the tide
Don't need fois gras, twice fried
rather watch my son go down a slide
realize all my value comes from inside
but, boy, it's sure been a wild ride
So, all who think it's all about the cash
It's you to whom I give a tongue lash
It's you who I will continue to bash
It's you who deserve
one
final
SLAM
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