Flying Lemming

(England)

A Wunch Of Bankers


I fail to see,
Why your blaming me,
For your misery,
When I want your happiness, and that is true.

Of course I stashed,
A load of cash,
When the market crashed,
But that's just what I'm expected to do.

I may be faceless,
But saying I'm graceless,
Is really quite tasteless,
I just have a totally unexpected view.

In my clean pressed suit,
I'm the banks recruit,
Who you'd like to shoot,
I give out loans, well maybe one or two.

I'll never budge,
Through forms I trudge,
And I like to judge,
I'll grind up your dreams until your blue.

But in the end,
You can depend,
On me as a friend,
Unless you’re poor in which case bugger you.

Submitted: Monday, October 04, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Wunch Of Bankers by Flying Lemming )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 4 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. "Twist these Big Tits Purple", Richard Thripp
  2. गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -66, Ronjoy Brahma
  3. Stories Are Created, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  4. When Fresh Fish Fails, Richard Thripp
  5. center, laxami Cards
  6. गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -65, Ronjoy Brahma
  7. Im sorry mom, claudia Fernandez
  8. Witless Innocence, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  9. Sitters And Their Dreams, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  10. There Is Nothing I Can Do, Lawrence S. Pertillar

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Thomas Wyatt

My lute awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]