The lying cheating Ponzi scheming Bernie Madoff passes on, still stuck in the slammer. But what of his long term futures?

Rich Man, Ponzi Man, Bernie Madoff, Thief.

Bernie Madoff, that ball of slime
Has done spending time in jail,
He's hardly started serving his time
For fraud on a madly massive scale.

But Bernie's sentence is at expiration.

He ripped people off for his own ends,
He left a trail of Madoff bad debts behind,
He bilked clients and milked dear friends,
Every one a poor rube to be robbed blind.

So much for his trustworthy reputation.

He was sentenced to three lifetimes in clink,
Judged deserving of serving 150 years,
Time enough to take stock, stop and think...
What fresh Hell awaits as Eternity nears? 

It's time for a soul-searching conversation.

Alas, poor Bernie, did he did try to cut a deal?
Offer Satan up his soul, or a majority share?
But in certain cases that offer holds no appeal,
A peep into some hearts shows... nothing there.

Any ex-client knows that's no Revelation. 

As Bernie breathes his last in his lonely cell
Does he pray St. Pete swallows his sob story?
The ol' silver tongued devil tells a tale so well;
Or will Bernie be the richest soul in Purgatory?

So ends Bernie's short incarceration.

Bernie lived the rich Ponzi scheme dream
Now life in a pokey cell is a poor way to live,
The debt he owes he knows he'll never redeem,
What a pity bankrupt Bernie had only life to give.

It's back to the bottom for Bernie if you're into reincarnation.

©Obbverse

Prince Phillip falls, and just short of hitting his century.

Ninety-nine- A Fair Old Innings.

For good old Phil it's the end of the line,
Departing life's game stuck on ninety-nine,
What a long and Commowealthy life it's been
Standing mostly quietly in the shadow of his Queen.

The Duke was at his best standing square-jawed,
Stoic, as Liz spoke and the folk listened in, awed,
On the other hand, when asked to share a thought
Her speech writers advised Phil to just keep it short.

He's stood by, if not silently, steadfast and loyally,
On the odd occasion, dropped himself in it royally,
Liz's Phil has been known for many an un-PC remark
But then the Prince has been 'round as long as the ark.

Leaving just shy of a 100 must cause him some regret,
There's a letter from the Palace he didn't quite get,
After seventy years of living a rich and Royal life
Phil won't get a 100 Club Card from the wife.



Phil said the odd gaffe, spoke his mind, but he was one of a kind.

 

©Obbverse

‘How To Maximise Profits In A Sick Business Environment.’ Straight outta the Company handbook.

And Jolly Good Company...

Imagine If I could stand and face you instead of using Zoom?
Imagine if we could all be close together in the one room?
Ever since the sad business of the emergence of Covid-19
We've had no choice but do the business via video screen.

As I gaze proudly around our fabulous but far-flung team
I'd like to thank you all for turning my nightmare into a dream,
So, though we're physically far apart my profits have far improved
Gettin' the loyal gang back together leaves me virtually unmoved. 

I see I don't need your asses sitting around my expensive real estate
So you're all FIRED!- unless you accept my Home Contractors rate-
Surely immediate redundant executive positions had to be expected
For no one is ever safe- present big Head of the Company excepted.



©Obbverse

A peek into the mind-set of the politically ‘fair and balanced.’ All Righty then!

Straight To The Heart.

I've got my rights!!!
To my free speech,
I got my rights
You don't dare breach.

I've got my rights!!!
I don't gotta mask,
I got my rights
So don't dare ask.

I've got my rights!!!
To not be vaccined,
I got my rights-
Freedum won't be quarantined!

I've got my rights!!!
To cling to history,
I got my rights
To love Robert E. Lee.

I've got my rights!!!
They're etched in stone,
I got my rights
Leave my statues alone.

I've got my rights!!!
To wave my flag,
I've got my rights
To salute Braxton Bragg.

I've got my rights!!!
To be anti-vax,
I got my rights
To twist the facts.

I've got my rights!!!
So hold your breath,
I've got my rights,
Defend 'em to the death.

I've got my rights!!!
Let me tell you,
I got my rights
Particularly dear Amendment Two.

I've got my rights!!!
To tote a gun,
I loooooove those rights,
That preciously guarded one.

I've got my rights!!!
I'll use my firearm-
Try taking my rights
You'll buy the the farm.

I've got my rights!!!
To protect my kin
I got my rights-
Don't fence me in.

I've got my rights!!!
Cain't lock me down,
I've got my rights
I'll go right to town.

I've got my rights!!!
To get loose and loud,
I've got my rights
To hang with my crowd. 

We've got our rights!!!
Wanderin' where we please,
We got our rights
To shoot the breeze.

We got our rights!!!
To gather Brotherhoodly together,
We got our rights
To go Hell for leather.

I've got my rights!!!
Rights we fought for,
I got my rights
To spread joy, and more.

I've got my rights!!!
To warn you off,
I got my rights
I'll shoot, I'll cough.

I've got my rights!!!
History's on my side,
I demand my gun rights
For which so many died.

I've got my rights!!!
Guns keep 'Merica Great!
Wanna spike my rights?
Like JFK, too late.

I've got my rights!!!
To smile with malice,
I got my rights
To openly carry in Dallas.

I've got my rights!!!
To roam around freely,
I got my rights 
To scope out Dealey.

I've got my rights!!!
To believe in Holy Don,
I got my rights
To wholly swallow QAnon.

I've got my rights!!!
Too right- I am hypocritical-
You say you've rights?
Wrong! My rights aren't reciprocal. 

I've got my rights!!!
I believe whats fake,
I got my rights
But screw you, Snowflake.

I've got my rights!!!
But if I'm fair
Others having civil rights-
I don't care or share.

Ain’t no arguing with them who shoot their mouths off before thinking.

©Obbverse.


	

Running a Mom-and-Pop store can be boom or bust.

Bad Business.

We've expanded your ol' local Seven-Eleven,
Now we're ready for action twenty-four-seven,
We're here for your beer'n'snacks and cigarettes
But we won't extend you a tab or hold your debts.

'Sir, if you don't see what you want, just ask
But inside I'd rather you not wear that mask-
Oh; in light of your sideways Glock I now recall
In special circumstances we extend credit to all!'

My very first night of working dusk till dawn
And I'm already lookin' deathly pale and drawn,
In all my long days of working the seven till three
The one denying charging daylight robbery was me.

 I called it in... eventually the cops rolled out,
That consistent diet of donuts helps, no doubt,
They began the sit-down-at-the counter interview,
They had free coffee, a whole jelly roll, but not a clue.

The jelly rolls quick demise cut the interview short,
Perhaps they'd had their fill of filling in their report? 
They departed, snagging some Snickers without paying-
A five-fingered discount or more evidence in the weighing?

As my little corner of the world turns dark
I glare out at the shadily deserted car park,
Torn between leaving out the Welcome mat
And standing by the door with a baseball bat.

I used to spend all my given days a'waiting to serve
But that empty cash register shows I've lost my nerve,
My faith in customer relations- blown away, I can't deny,
Hoping every rattly banged-up ol' Cutlass quietly drives by.

I must just admit my shopkeeping days are done
If I can't trust the driver, or the dude riding shotgun,
This prime retail location looked fine in the light of day
Now here, due to Saturday Night Specials, crime does pay.

(‘Inspired’ by another news report on, yes, yet another armed robbery. Call it ‘Kim’s Convenience Store’ for the morbidly cynical and gun-shy.)

©Obbverse

After being in a locked down life, what harm is there in getting in a round, a quick nine or eighteen holes?

Same Old Abnormal.

After all these long dark careful months
Of staying locked down, home at nights
Some folk are missing what was normal once-
Just chaffing, a'wanting to exercise their rights.

They just wanna do what they used to do,
They just don't like the way things change,
They just don't- can't- wanna wait till '22 ,
They just wanna be home, out on the range.

Some do become increasingly frustrated,
Sick of staid-at-home and safe surrounds,
They wanna step out, feel free, liberated,
Go out to the club, let loose a few rounds.

A select few don't wanna stay quietly shut up-
Why go stir crazy, let the inner sports nut out!
Find your course of action, get out and cut up,
Or go crazy if they can't get their big butt out?

The urge to break loose grows ever stronger,
It is a curse, a burden many fail to shoulder,
Just a crazy one or two who can't wait any longer
Like those mad bastards in Atlanta and Boulder.

Yep, I think you've every right to those arms you bear,
But your NRA's wrong, blindly wilfully not seeing the link- 
Some short-fused dum-dums need to stay in Secure Care,
No harm checkin' on permits? On fingerprints? Do ya think?

©Obbverse

True old school romance? That Thomas Hardy sure gave Tess d’Urbaville a hard life.

Ruminations 'Pon Watching Monsieur R. Polanski's Moving Picture Based Upon Thomas Hardy's Heartbreaking Rendering Of The Lamentable Treatment Of The Much Put Upon 'Tess Of The d'Urbavilles.' 

Caution Miss, if the rich young Master approaches
Offering up gilt plated hairpins or silv'ry broaches,
Don't shake his hand, shake firm your pretty head-
'Oh no sir, no engagement 'til our banns are read.'
 
Yon Master is a man who'd rather do wrong than right,
You want your wedding day, he wants his wedding night, 
Pearl earrings, gold necklaces, baubles of every kind,
But handing a wedding band... somehow slips his mind.

Master may well say he will give you everything-
Give him not a thing till he promises a gold ring,
Tess, 'tis not for your sweet heart his hand reaches,
Push his hot hand away and hold on to your breeches.

(Yes, it's a light-hearted take on a grossly tragic tale. But tragedy, humour, two sides of the same face?) 
'Tess, it's gonna end in tears.'


©Obbverse

What’s in a Valentines card anyway?

Heart Strings.

Accept this humble Valentine's card, my sweet,
Know 'tis only you who makes my life complete,
You cause my happy heart to lightly skip a beat,
I freely give you my heart- consider my card your receipt.

My love, my love for you runs true and deep,
Know I dream of you at night before I sleep,
So my love, close to your heart my love-note keep;
I'd hand you a few roses too- but I'm too damned cheap.

(Written in response to Chel Owens A Mused poetry competition.)

©Obbverse

Mary Wilson, Supreme’s singer, steps away from the mic.

Someday They'll Get Back Together.

Misses Ross, Wilson, Ballard and Birdsong?
How could a Motown fanboy not sing along?
Now a good half of those original Supremes
Have faded, like that young kid's old dreams.

Divine Diana Ross says she's she's sad and bereft,
Guess now there's two few Supreme voices left,
Better get the group together for a photo though-
And pronto, or Miss Ross might be singing solo.

Through all the petty squabbles, the hogging  of the spotlight, the Diva-like acting the good ol’ Motown music endures.

©Obbverse

It can be pure hell being a little Miss Goody Two-shoes; especially if it’s not a good fit.

Stuck In A Box.

Mother believed when my maker calls me to Glory
She expected me to transit straight past Purgatory,
Surely Saint Peter will welcome me as a fellow saint
With my unblemished record, no cause for complaint?

From the very moment I said my first word
Mother said 'the ideal girl is seen but not heard,'
Dumb obedience to Mother, as per Godly tradition
And my Catholic mom was a mother with a mission.

Just once I brought up the issue of whence I came,
'Where's Dad, what's his name, do we look the same?'
From the back of the bible she withdrew an old photograph,
She spat 'see, Child- some bastard's father and my lesser half.'

One day, reflecting in the mirror in the bathroom
I discovered a secret garden now beginning to bloom,
From that forgotten quarter sprung a scrubby triangle-
Add to which the itchy hair-raising fact of pits in a tangle.

So then mother lectured me on right and wrong,
The only wine, on communion, one Him, Hymn song,
Making plain to me I had a  face only a mother might like,
'Be as a nun- popularity with boys means being the town bike.'

She instilled the virtues of virtue as I sprang up,
Thanked God when He 'blessed' me with an A cup,
I'd longed to look swell in a tight come-hither gown,
My one foray in going strapless led to a dressing down.

Together mother dear and the priest had a talk with me;
It seems boys, booze and blazing were the Unholy Trinity,
One Sunday I stood 'tween 'em, before the whole congregation,
On my breast a white bow, confirming my good God reputation.

She must have seen this as being a mothers finest hour,
Pressing a Father's service to protect her innocent flower,
Yep, Mother and Father Riley had my best interests at heart,
Father said 'God forgives your sins,' mother said 'but don't start.'

Mother had me wear clothes designed to say
'Nothing to see here,' swaddled in swathes of grey,
Who or what lay deep beneath was anybody's guess?
Designed less to go out and impress than kneel and confess.

                              - - - - - - - - -         

I've said 'goodbye' to Mother, she's snapped nothing back,
I've hung up my black coat, slung my veiled hat on the rack,
I've taken his picture from her good book before I put it away;
From forgotten book-mark to being framed and put on display.

Ma had finally told the tale of a girl, new to town, alone,
Of the interest in her predicament a gentleman had shown
When she rested her weary seat on the step of the Flatbush Inn,
Of how he'd dined and wined her, how easily she'd been taken in.

Now Ma's in Heaven (if all went as she planned)
And I'm finally free of her heavy restraining hand,
It's time to cast off my cardigans and her puritan views,
Now comes the time to take up offers she felt I had to refuse.

Cardigan unbuttoned, I re-evaluated Gods gift,
My small prospects required no underwired lift,
It was plainly time to jettison my drab underwear,
I went into the closet to find what I'd secreted there...

I slipped on my silk slightly padded bra, fiery red,
A thong to hide my modesty, if barely by a thread,
A tiny black dress to ensure my honour would be lost,
I've no desire to keep temptation at bay or legs crossed.

I recalled the words mother was wont to say
If she suspected her daughter may be led astray,
'Child, if you wish to go to heaven, to pluck the lyre,
Abstain, for drink and smoke serve but to stoke the fire.' 

So I went in to the bar, the repository of all sin,
Scarce sat down when a man turned with a grin,
An absinthe in one hand, a Camel butt in the other,
Just the kind of devil who'd be condemned by Mother.

Oh, I recognised the danger, that I cannot deny,
Seen through the glass sparkly, that look in his eye,
Which one of us two poor souls appeared more shocked?
This angel wantonly falling or the good priest unfrocked?
A bit different from the usual offerings, but somewhere along the way the idiot muse took me somewhere unexpected. Ah well, it's the journey I suppose...

©Obbverse