Here is another Seasonal ditty which owes a bit to Charles Dickens:
Master of the Universe
Mark’s seven figure bonus burned the
pockets of his jeans
Another Aston Martin now came well within his means.
His penthouse flat deposit came from last year’s bonus pack
His options and his pension fund kept future plans on track.
“Life is good this Christmas”, thought the banker looking down
From off his lofty balcony upon the dirty town.
“Tonight I’ll worship Mammon and give thanks
for all my gains
And toast the banking system in plentiful champagnes”
The night was cold and wet and grey, but Mark just didn’t care
He’d spent a fortune getting drunk and
barely had the fare
To catch a taxi home to bed to sleep the night away
And dream of all the stuff to buy with his inflated pay.
The bar had closed, his friends had gone, and now he stood again
Weaving gently on the kerb of this deserted lane
As if to make his night complete he saw with bleary sight
A taxi cab approaching him, “For Hire” sign alight
He slumped himself into the seat and gently closed his eyes,
Opened up his eyes again and there to his surprise
Sat Jacob, friend from student days, who’d made a pile in Law
But had succumbed to early death, but now sat there before
The puzzled and bewildered Mark who couldn’t quite recall
If he had asked this ghost along, he wasn’t sure at all
What actually was going on until the spectre spoke
And reassured his banker chum that this was not a joke
“I died”
he said “before I could enjoy the fruits of wealth
“My sole concern was money; I cared
not for my health
“And so it was one day as I was
thinking what to buy
“The reaper came with sharpened
scythe and told me I would die
“And now I am condemned to ride in
this my ghostly cab
“Until I can convince one more that
life is more than grab
“Up all the money and the things that
it can get.
“I sit here ev’ry Christmas but I haven’t done it
yet”
“Don’t think I’m the one to change” said Mark “what’s mine stays
mine”
“And anyway I’ve set my sights upon a DB9”
The cab came
to a stop beside a place Mark didn’t know
A wasteland
by the riverside where desp’rate people go.
Figures
shuffled aimlessly or simply stood around
Their
clothes were ragged, pride had gone; they stared upon the ground
Having seen
more than enough Mark slowly turned his head
To speak to
Jacob opposite but, shockingly, instead
An image of
himself stared back, unwashed and dressed in rags
A bottle
clutched in dirty hands, his stuff in plastic bags.
“Hi Mark”
this vision said at last and took another drink
“You don’t
know me yet” he said “but just in case you think
“That
bankers only give it out and are themselves immune
“I’ll draw
you a scenario that hums a diff’rent tune.
“Your bank
collapsed from dodgy deals and you were thus deposed.
“You
couldn’t pay your debts and so your creditors foreclosed
“And here you
are a year ahead, you’re homeless and bereft
“You’ve
taken to the bottle ‘cos there’s simply nothing left”
He paused
and stared at Mark awhile then spoke again at last
“You know
they say when going up take care of those you pass
“‘cause when
you’re going down you may be grateful for their aid,
“Well here I
am already down and you’re already made.
“You never
gave a single thought beyond your greedy self”
He winked
and then ironic’lly he drank the banker’s health.
In guilt
Mark closed his eyes to shut his other self away
And when he
opened them again the night had turned to day
“Just a
nasty dream” he thought. He was lying in
his bed
But he
couldn’t lose the awful feeling running through his head.
Hungover
from the night before, he turned the TV on
To idly
watch the news unfold but knowing all along
That Masters
of the Universe like him could not be caught
By
pestilence or poverty, that all things could be bought;
But then
upon the screen appeared a face he’d seen before
Looking from
a taxi parked before his own front door.
“I’ve come to
take you back” he said “there’s very little time
For you to
make amends for greed before the church bells chime
The
blessings of the Christmastide, and peace, goodwill to all.
Or wallow in your cosy bed and see
what will befall
You when you’re on your way to
gutter land and begging in the streets
And cardboard packing keeps you warm
instead of silken sheets.
The screen then switched to show the
place the scene so desolate
That Mark had seen the night before
depicting what his fate
Would be if he should not give up
his greedy selfish ways;
The likelihood was that this could
be how he ends his days.
What thoughts went through Mark’s
mind just then will never now be known
But soon he turned the TV off and
reached out for his ‘phone,
Speed dialled the Aston Martin sales
and when they came on line
“Enquiring for my order for my
bright red DB9
“I’ve come to a decision and I
thought I’d let you know
“That I’m cancelling the order and instead
will now bestow
“My yearly bonus from the bank upon
those most in need
“Christmas is a time to give and not
for selfish greed”
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