Gilt of Cain

Here is the ask price on the closed position,
history is no inherent acquisition
for here the Technical Correction upon the act,
a merger of truth and in actual fact
on the spot, on the money – the spread.
The dealer lied when the dealer said
the bull was charging the bear was dead,
the market must calculate per capita, not head.
And great traders acting in concert, arms rise
as the actuals frought on the sea of franchise
thrown overboard into the exchange to drown
in distressed brokers disconsolate frown.
In Accounting liquidity is a mounting morbidity
but raising the arms with such rigid rapidity…
Oh the reaping the raping rapacious fluidity.
the violence the vicious and vexed volatility.
The roaring trade floor rises above crashing waves:
the traders buy ships, beneath the slaves.
Sway machete back, sway machete again
cut back the Sugar Rush, Cain.
The whipsaw it’s all and the whip saw it all
The rising market and the cargo fall
Who’ll enter “Jerusalem” make the margin call for Abel?
Who will kick over the stall and turn the table?
Cain gathers cane as gilt-gift to his land
But whose sword of truth shall not sleep in hand?
Who shall unlock the stocks and share?
Break the bond the bind unbound - lay bare
The Truth. Cash flow runs deep but spirit deeper
You ask Am I my brothers keeper?
I answer by nature by spirit by rightful laws
My name, my brother, Wilberforce.

Found this one on the web, not claiming any credit for this whatsoever.

Sarcophagus of grime

Beyond the lufilian arc lies a sarcophagus of grime
The worthy unworthy dead in them induce a crime
Breaching the crust, my iron hands I thrust
Into the dusty, crystal suspension of blood

To decieve the smug and delude the deprived
I broker a life to make another allied
Such a secretive wage, since an ancient age
I derive and make my treasuries flood

She hides her belly, its a story untold
Her child's view grows clear as layers unfold
There I impinge, my metal syringe
To tell the story of a miracle birth

I need disclosure on accrued eternal benevolence
Care I not, for a due life long penance
My shame I dispose, and gladly propose
I kill this child for my moment of mirth

The Old Man

He sits in a corner, of a place he owns
Of his diminishing vision he moans
The table littered with six pounder books
He gets lodged in his private dusty nooks

Where he dreams, day in and out
With his own argument and his own clout
A requiem of sorts, a celebration of death
The past lives on till he holds his breath

He picks up his pen and draws his dream
Shuddering of ingenuity, its a silent scream
Delusional, yet heavenly bright
A black chart is born on his royal white

But it will not live beyond the dream
It has no pistons to work the steam
No cranks for the pistons to run
No wheels for the cranks to turn

It is a promise to be broken
Its in effect a counterfeit token
A vacuum filled empty vault
A credit paper about to default

On the crust he wrinkles, but inside he cries
With every unfaithful chart he dies
A death of his future, his present and his past
With each chart he wishes this were his last

And then he gets off his corner, wrinkles apart
To grind his bones into another start
With seasoned pessimism at his heart
Wishing that this were his last chart

Angel

I saw you by the fence, disguised in pretense
Of a poor maiden
With the flirt in your eye, that i would try
Oh you luscious maiden

To me you crept, with a pair inept
And asked me not my name
And a silence which, subdued a screech
Told me I was claimed

Your hair laid fresh, the deepest mesh
Desert breeze failed
I did dare not, caress the lot
These earthen hands were too rough

But you felt thirst, so water was a first
And so I took you to the well
The pitcher would dry, every time I try
To pour it out

And again the pretense, innocent silence
Crystal eyes look up
They say they need, a generous feed
Of love

You lend your hand, my life's reprimand
And the skin glossed of light
Envisioned a touch of feather, when the hands came together
And I moved mine

I did not yet touch, did not want to as such
For the strength in me refrained
But I fell to the ground, holding you around
Your waist

Was it all you deemed, my plight esteemed
The wreck of my stature?
Did you want to fly, a worn out cry
Out of my armature?

I knew the sign, unworldly divine
Was ready when you struck the fence
I had the disease, I had to cease
Then why all the pretense?

For all these years, I lived in tears
Misery was a routine parade
I needed my chance, at such elegance
Now take me away