Economyland

And the health of an economy is measured by hospitals

filling and emptying at any intimate hour

lifesaving surgery and nursing care

the movement of patients in and out

the strength of an economy holding itself together

in sync with a social system

burdened with psycho-social complexities

hidden, unless the media feeds on the story

of a young boy with a plank beating the flesh of

a young girl on a suburban street, his love,

she is crying, her family cries

and a shocked community goes into remorse

for it knows not how to deal with its aberrations

infected souls born into hardline violence

she, born from a union of desperate hearts

on a dark night on a sandy beach

across the road from the Seaman’s Arms

they were drunk and forgot the condom

the father who lived on salt, sugar

and animal fats,

absconded from home violence

living on the streets

doing what had driven him, 

hyper schizophrenic, wracked by ill-health

a heroin oscillating addict

dying in the arms of the Salvation Army,

soldiers in a bloodless war with sin

sometimes blamed for such kinds of tragedy

for a life is not life without it

in an economy available to pour crisp money

into social services

no guilt felt from exploding wealth

the middle class, petit entrepreneurs

show concern for the underprivileged

charity a tax deduction

the owner of the means of redemption

enough of the right manners and get by

on plentiful money and leisure time that boosts

enough for middle class contentment

serviced by the economy to prevent

too many from going over the edge

threatening an economic order

that generates new hymen to insure stability

sponsored by bureaucracy, mules and monopolies,

parking spaces have grown pastures wide

possessing peaceful suburbs

possessing enough inhabitants

to steer their money treadmill firm and straight,

rubbish is collected

Mickey Mouse is collected

the lives of the famous sneeringly dissected

each and every day the satisfaction

too much excess body fat can never be drained

the operating table is a throne

beauty being the only fable

that everyone believes in

and aspirations agree with resignations

that life in an economy is no cut lawn

yet better than any system

where cold despots preside

over government inspired hyperinflation,

a hypertension, a heating of the blood

for money flows like blood around a body

credit is what credit does

money pumps thick threatening blood clots

thickening veins from unsecured loans

rising prices threaten to go troppo

and banks are no longer functioning kidneys

when dealing with balances and liquidity

when scared they dare to lend to each other

replenishing themselves with financed fluids

drawn from the well of promising futures

fearful of their securities exploding with force

the pancreas processes the poisons

caused by robbers, executives and shysters

for the bowels to empty the waste

Ponzi schemes long steaming,

new food is needed, but with a different taste

for mouths that will gape at

the ten commandments of consumerism

written on screens,

condensed into one, thou shalt not scrimp

the twenty-four hourly mucus

increasing its substance come a bad depression

a runny nose when in a recession,

the economy’s gone cold

epidemically foretold

black markets doing the work of compassion

for the decomposed body of a monetary system

formerly revealed in an Apocrypha

the revelation consumers have to have

uncanny in times of prosperity

when wild scepticism is cornered

and insecurity is surrounding

consumers accounts held in polystyrene banks

investing hot money far beyond their ranks,

and depositors otherwise expectant

for they cannot put their money under beds

but how banks behave, soaring over their heads

and when they collapse and are bailed

by central banks breastfed by taxpayers

depositors cannot wish themselves expecting

to do the dirty work and recover

their entire savings and investments

the will of complexity that is handing over power

abandoning prosperity in the severest hour,

the impoverished poet, borne of the beaten girl

having long heart-scanned old legends impossible

whose poet’s soul dark, his opposition to light

writes when winter snow-blinds with the sun

watching as his words slowly separates from it

in his flickering imagination, nothing but

the rhythm of empty trains rolling through the night

and the hum of containers vessels waiting to sail

the posture of a wheelie bin that guards his house,

consumption advertisements distract him

neon spruikers from out the disembodied din,

the poet tries to imagine a marketing free activity

something that needs never selling

that does not try to sell something else

the poet punishes his musings day and night

his frustrations compound to duress

days pass and not a word is expressed

to see what he sees, his visions retained

a bard, the seer in a mad costed world

blind, yet dawn came from a dulled dish cloth

poetry is no soul for advertising

words on the walls of a bus are no relation

poetry cannot sell armchairs, or sea cruises

or creams which promise permanent beauty

it can’t sell financial planning, or electric cars

plastic surgery or a brace

breakfast cereals or Mars bars,

poetry is free to be for itself

free from ulterior motives,

after-words that become revelations

as astounding as Joseph Smith’s

should beautiful words be found

in the vernacular of an economy

and be so profoundly expressed

in print, visually compressed

for wisdom to display,

swelling anthills of discontent

dissenters who’ll repent and close their sacks

repent by mistrusting credit

who’ll cautiously consume, them ‘til death

buy upon a breath that is lasting

should they not need, then need not buy

for time has other means to be filled,

if not for vanity, economies collapse

if not for insecurity, economies roll over

if not for want, economies fail

if not for disposability, economies shrink

self-dependency is never encouraged,

the world with mass supplies

needs demand, and enter the credit slouch

whose purity is like nudity

as it is written in the tiled two testaments

happiness comes from misery survived

to finish the slave=master=slave equation

to exist in a better place, in a better world

having aspirations, which nobly lead

to great wealth and deep satisfaction

before the death of a wallet well-travelled

by luck overcoming disappointments

by risk, success and failure

good health beyond birth’s accident

as it is a capitalist economy’s nature

to predict the unpredictable

with the help of market research

to achieve the goals of Easter sales

that chocolate crosses are blessed to sell  

in Christian or heathen precincts,

life without credit is a life in shadow

desire with a fist to bully hesitant urges

debt meaningless when endorsed by freedom

but comes calling, with cheerleaders in tow

cheering the economy which floats on itself,

replenishing the gush of impulse and need

greed was good until lust got better

lust astonishing and impossibly fresh

this, the consumer therapy

a relaxed economy which drops its demeanour

for its participants to hesitate, and go on, splurge

the urge to do so which demonstrates sanity

in all kinds of adverse weather

and return consumers to core values unified

to refresh consumption, and with it

no signs of a revolutionary tremble

when Black Friday comes around.