Observe the enthusiastic dead.
A carriage of them we will make
and fill their steady, boys, steady,
with steady state.
The bodies we will make.
We tend to speculate
on what they might have said
about their rotting.
Neither will the bugle wake them
As the rotting sun is set
on that long day to say good-bye to all that’s good.
As we crossed a trackless plain
directed by camera –
our only record
as we crossed a trackless plain
directed by camera:
A cluster of legs accelerated
numbers heated by bodies
heated by bodies
ready for the quick stamp panic attack
of gas attack.
Repeated and played and watched
by men and women tracking us
senior officials with senior and sensitive facts
about our lives and loves
repeating to themselves
it was good for us to be watched
and after the attack to conclude
there were now less of us to track.
Blessings on Monaco
And all its palaces –
Particularly the one I live in
Covered in bougainvillea.
Or the yacht I forgot to mention
Or a matter not unconnected,
The boiling of the sea.
(from William Blake)
And did those words in City speak
not quite mean what they said?
And was this secret place still England
now it’s owned by global inc?
And did the governor, a touch laconic,
look like King Canute and slightly comic.
To put us on our mettle;
We, who are the face of battle.
Bring me my bonus of burning zeros!
Bring me a nod from my manager!
Bring a decent appraisal, o career unfold!
Bring me a car with two steering wheels!
I shall continue to make a million
and control the price of oil per gallon,
while we build a new Jerusalem
where money is without limit.
(from William Shakespeare)
Shall I compare an option to a future?
The thought of all that money is lovely.
Markets are volatile – alleluia.
Wow, the contract has a month longer
And the market’s gone loco.
Hey, it could be an opportunity (in such confusion).
As once in a while you get this kind of thing –
To go away in May and come back in September,
Overpowering us happy few with a price
Nobody can remember.
I guess we couldn’t believe it –
The vanity of the forbidden City.
For as long as someone’s able and willing,
There’s always a chance to make a killing.
One hell of a carry to put around you,
Your ears, your face,
All flesh will soon be blessed
With Dollar Calamari/Empire Squid.
A bug bitten son of a trail commission
Hero of friendly, breaking-your-leg, persuasion
Some giant playground to return to later
Performs a ten minute trade with naked option.
When trading, just a feeling he’s just visiting
His pathetic victim
Tied to wheelchair or investment prism.
The prospectus read: that’s for little people.
By lowering you down to depths
Of unimaginable shrimpness
Where they borrow against you
Before you’re eaten.
Stunned by some flash trade
Others deeply impressed
Can help with clarification
By easing the trading of funnies,
Pegging the currency or stress testing unfavourably
If not squid,
A bank that’s on the move with giant tentacle.
Knowing it cannot fail/quite impossible.
The house wins like every best casino.
Monte Carlo or Dead Sea Scroll
It doesn’t matter,
If you have the ace,
You have the hole.