Llyn Clague

A Market Hero

Should we all clap
for Chainsaw Al Dunlap
who clearly took no crap
when he sprang the trap
that let thousands drop
into joblessness?

For this Al pocketed
millions.

A Aturn-around specialist,@
Al waltzed in, blitzed
the workforce and glitzed
the stock.  The analysts
loved the nickname that glazed
his ruthlessness.

For this Al pocketed
millions.

First he went to Scott
Paper and cleansed the rot
so well that Scott could not
survive: sold on the spot
it fell like a stone
into oblivion.

For this he pocketed
millions.

Then on to Sunbeam
where he and his team
sacked thousands more.  Like steam
the stock rose, then it clean
evaporated, and the firm
went bankrupt.

For this Al pocketed
more millions.

Years later, someone looked
and lo, Al had cooked 
the books: thus he rooked
owners too, and snookered
auditors, adding fraud
to heartlessness.

And for this he pocketed
still more millions.

The end of this little ditty
is that this man without pity
lives in luxury on a kitty
of millions, hugely benefiting
from wreaking calamity
upon humanity.

For this, Al pocketed
millions.

Dry Drunk

For Shannon, and the country
							       
The drinking years are far behind him –
the parties, oceans of laughs, howlers, drunk fucks,
safaris across the Sahara of the night,
Arctic dawns in jail cells, Olympics of lies.

Every day he doesn’t drink he gives thanks 
to God.  Closing his eyes, he prays in the dark 
of his mind, sinking up toward a loving, 
never-critical God, and he gives thanks

the drinking years are far behind him –
the rages, blackouts, sneaking, thieving,
fights, screams, abuse, loathing and self-loathing,
DWI’s, hangovers, terror in chinks, and 

every day he goes to the gym, pumps iron, 
treads the mill, rows the boat, does crunches 
and curls, in steely control, reveling in 
endorfins and adrenalin, and salt sweat.

In the dark of his mind he prays to the God 
of his understanding, all-forgiving, 
bathing him in light, and he feels safe,
beautiful even, with a sweet certitude that

slips away like light leaking under a door 
as he returns to the world outside his head –
a world where people cheat, lie, betray, 
are treacherous, two-faced, untrustworthy

so that he can never show weakness, never
confide in another human being, 
but strike first, fast, get the last word in
and white-knuckle his way through the day; still

every day he doesn’t drink he gives thanks
the drinking years are far behind him.
Closing his eyes, sinking up in the dark 
of his mind, adrenalin running in his blood,

he reaches for the God of his understanding,
all-forgiving, spreading light, and his heart 
opens in sweet relief as he seeks
reassurance of his oneness with his God.