Poem, Society,Bailout Boogie

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Bankers like to take your money

And put it in a safe place;

And they can make it vanish

Without a stinking trace.

They will give you one percent interest on your money

If you put it in their bank;

And drive it around in armored cars

That look just like tanks.

If you need to borrow some

They will charge you twelve percent;

That is quite a profit

No gangster would resent.

If you have a credit card

And your payment's late,

They will charge you twenty percent

Plus the food on your plate!

With these kind of profits

And investments they make, too,

Where did all their money go?

Do you think it grew wings and flew?

The CEO's at the bank

Pay themselves millions;

Even if the money's gone

They still end up with billions.

How do I get to own a bank?

It seems like you can't lose;

And there's lots of perks

And plenty of time to snooze.

They never have bathrooms in banks,

There is no place to pee;

Up to a hundred thousand

Is backed by the F.D.I.C.

Authors Bio:
Masters degree in social work. Activist 40 years worth. Favorite quote, "we had to destroy the city to save it" hobbies taxidermy,music,saving souls and respirating