Gambler, Rambler...A Poem by MayankTo all those who turned rags from riches, while they always thought they control our economy but were choked at the time modern cholera, I call it Recession.Steps moving forward In the jungle made up of concrete, The bell rings, fight begins Here comes the bull, rumbling in your pit. Speculators eyes are glued on flat screen Watching the numbers, ferociously. Boiler room filled with smoke and tea, Today’s exclusive tip, sweat dripping anxiety… Is this the right time? The speculators wonder, Opinionated leaders, commissioned dealers Our very own confused news channel anchor. They all are clueless, choking in the grip of a bear. Then someone yelled the curse, Yes, they have done it again! There goes the epidemic wiping our pocket clean, Brother’s dies, Morgan’s grieving… The economy is stroked, currency on prosthetic. The billionaires are firing orders, They don’t need anyone, They are motionless, cold as corpse. “Show is over” Pessimist’s death note, “Time to turn visionary!” churning in the mind of leaders. This jungle is the necessity for human survival, The day will come when confident will revive, Few more debts will be added in India’s fiscal bible. Then spring will welcome you again at Dalal Street*, With new instinct, ball gripping tips, numerical greed. The market will buzz old speeches and new rants, Mr. Investor Banker, will be back With the slavery tie knotted perfectly on his neck. © 2014 MayankAuthor's Note
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14 Reviews Added on July 22, 2014 Last Updated on July 22, 2014 Tags: Psychology, Businesses, Current affairs, Lost, Hope, Gambler. AuthorRelated WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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