Banks!
I see the gaunt unsmiling face of my neighbour every night,
Trudging back from his day at work, struggling with all his might.
To make a meek existence, to feed and clothe and house,
His much beloved family, and his ever loving spouse.
But as I gaze at this tired young man, working out his heart,
I wonder what he is slaving for, and will he ever start,
To analyse his life he has, and who he is working for.
And why it is that he will be, forever simply poor.
A glance at his statement, of his mortgage from the bank,
Will show the monthly interest, going to the tank,
Of fat cats in the boardroom, in the city far away,
Nine tenths or more of his hard earned cash, disappears their way.
And even though the taxman, slugs him once a week,
He is glad to see that what is left, will keep him on his feet.
Just topping up a little, with his trusty credit card,
To buy his son a birthday gift, and a lovely little card.
And still he trudges on, with the hope, that one day soon,
He will be approved for another card, as the one he’s got balloons,
Just shy of the limit the bank will bear, and still the bills come in,
He knows but will deny, he is at the moneylender’s whim.
So work each day you tired young man, but one day you may see,
My smiling face next door to you, and maybe just ask me,
Why is it that I’m relaxed, and enjoy my life with thanks,
It’s because I pay no interest to those greedy “bloody” banks.
Derek Haines 14th May 1998
Published in:
Loss, Limbo, Life and Love
Author: Derek Haines
ISBN/EAN13: 1449531261 / 9781449531263
Derek's Vandal Blog
www.derekhaines.ch
Derek on Twitter
Derek's Author Page
I see the gaunt unsmiling face of my neighbour every night,
Trudging back from his day at work, struggling with all his might.
To make a meek existence, to feed and clothe and house,
His much beloved family, and his ever loving spouse.
But as I gaze at this tired young man, working out his heart,
I wonder what he is slaving for, and will he ever start,
To analyse his life he has, and who he is working for.
And why it is that he will be, forever simply poor.
A glance at his statement, of his mortgage from the bank,
Will show the monthly interest, going to the tank,
Of fat cats in the boardroom, in the city far away,
Nine tenths or more of his hard earned cash, disappears their way.
And even though the taxman, slugs him once a week,
He is glad to see that what is left, will keep him on his feet.
Just topping up a little, with his trusty credit card,
To buy his son a birthday gift, and a lovely little card.
And still he trudges on, with the hope, that one day soon,
He will be approved for another card, as the one he’s got balloons,
Just shy of the limit the bank will bear, and still the bills come in,
He knows but will deny, he is at the moneylender’s whim.
So work each day you tired young man, but one day you may see,
My smiling face next door to you, and maybe just ask me,
Why is it that I’m relaxed, and enjoy my life with thanks,
It’s because I pay no interest to those greedy “bloody” banks.
Derek Haines 14th May 1998
Published in:
Loss, Limbo, Life and Love
Author: Derek Haines
ISBN/EAN13: 1449531261 / 9781449531263
Derek's Vandal Blog
www.derekhaines.ch
Derek on Twitter
Derek's Author Page
You Can Quote Me
I don't have an occupation. Only a preoccupation.
Don't worry about me. I'm embarrassment proof.
If I could be anybody in the world........I'd be me.
It's amazing how productive nose picking can really be.
My inspiration gland is not working this week. Damn.
Ok, I've cleaned the kitchen, done the laundry and emptied the garbage! Can I get back to work now?
There's a good reason I am a writer. I'm completely useless at anything else.
My children were quite surprised to discover I could write. I was surprised they could actually read.
I think I've nearly perfected the art of idiocy.
I am certainly not a formula writer. Don't have the concentration.
I suffer fools badly. Makes it difficult to live with myself.
There was an awkward silence after my wife finished reading my new book.
Inn myy neckst book I'mi gonna concintrate on my speelingg!
I had a headache for a while, then I gave it to my wife.
Is sex a noun or a verb?
Suburban houses in suburban streets in suburban suburbs are built around their occupant’s secrets.
Nudity. We all have plenty of it.
To return to my point. (I do wander from my point on occasions. I apologise for any inconvenience.)
I don’t like Wednesdays.
I feel much better. It is not Wednesday.
I am not so keen on raw sausages any more.
Where does navel fluff come from? And how can it be blue when I am wearing a white shirt?
I am working on the premise that I only get one chance at being seditious, so I will make it worthwhile!
Q. Are you confused?
A. Only by you. I think.
The pages of this book have been a rampage.
Oh smurtleclop of perlup be.
Suck me dry, Make me die,
Take my heart, I won’t cry, Life you Bitch!
The passage of life, as it blunders along.
Everybody’s happy, I’m everybody’s clown.
It was just after lunch, That I had a hunch, To risk my whole life in one day.
Credit my account with your friendship, and I will return your change with a smile.
Love frees the heart of a lonely life,
And hope for a life in my torment’s wake.
I vandalise words.
Hello World! What a real bastard you have turned out to be!
It really was quite unsociable of Douglas Adams to leave planet Earth in 2001.
Please stop reading IMMEDIATELY if you start to feel a little faint and seek urgent medical attention.
What's this life thing then?
Have you ever noticed that you just can't go to a doctor once?
One thing remains pure and true. My first and continuing crush on Morticia Addams.
Derek's Vandal Blog
www.derekhaines.ch
Derek on Twitter
Derek's Author Page