The Dollar Debt Spiral Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

There once lived a worthy with warbled view,
Creatively skilled and called Brummell Beau,
Having invented a business model,
He gave it a naughty name— Debt Spiral.

He got many a suit by his tailor made,
All on credit— his business valued was,
He enjoyed highest of a credit grade,
And so the business grew pulling no pause.

Whenso his tailor talked of unpaid bill,
Beau would three more suits order on credit,
Adding a spiral of debt— way uphill,
Poor tailor was worried no ends of wit.

Our Uncle Sam today treads in his trail,
Its dollar debt breaching the global roof,
Producing a package of Holy Grail,
Nor trust nor faith required nary a proof.

And nations nudged are in green backs to trade,
Sprouting and pushing up paper credit
That if not junk, no more than sub-prime grade,
Backed by gold, goods nor yet goodwill a bit.

And there's no alt, Euro in crisis worst,
Their pledges no better than worthless wool
In eyes, world left with nothing else to trust,
Globe gullible suffering silent fool!

And China may be too eager to wear
The pinching shoes with little trust, least faith,
And as a trade partner viewed too unfair,
So, Dollar's here till one parts— debt or death!

Tailors of world may have a grudge to nurse,
But Brummell had invented male trousers,
He sure deserves his coveted a crown—
For catching world tailors clueless, pants down!
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Tongue-in-cheek | 02.06.10 |