Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Ballad in D# Minor


More by this author
Above the golden, humming lake
a helicopter flew
the polished king of hedge funds up
Manhattan’s dazzling view

Encroached on top of NYC
a shadow’s suit in black
that eyed the never-sleeping lights
gusts howling on his back

His manners perfect and polite
a diamond watched the time
against the losers worthless in
his youthful days of prime

His head was up in outer space
o’er thousand alpha males
His shiny leather faster swanked
than White House caught his trails

For four and twenty hour days
the ringing telephone
fell short in line to his prestige
of finance secrets’ zone

The woman that he called his bride
could not control the bull
of Wall Street, soiling girls naïve
with demon’s lust in full

For pleasure, cried and begged him, “More!”
on paws and on her knees
His clients sold their souls to him
and ate his enemies

He licked at his superiors’ soles
and spat at those below
The bankers and consultants all
would suck up to his dough

But one day saw a mighty crash
financial crisis struck!
And out of work, retired him home
completely out of luck

Macbeth had fall’n from heaven’s naves
as low as to the fiends
“Y’alright, ‘hun?” asked his worried babe
“Begone!” bemoaned his pleas

The dimly flick’ring room buzzed death
who gloated from the screen
“Perversèd Trader Charged with Theft
of Billions Winked Between”

Fat trait’rous traders as corrupt
as greedy Uncle Sam
who failed to check the doubtful scheme
till bubbles burst their brand

Behind a creaking door she flinched
Those lifeless lawyers’ lies!
“We’re sorry that we can’t accept
A lost case - I’d advise”

As Machiavelli said ‘bout trust
in mercenary friends,
“They loot you when you’re safe; they run
afar when trouble sends”

No former allies came to aid
her husband poor and shamed
That eve they ravished, stole her love,
her blue hair up in flames

Her zero credit couldn’t bail,
insurance bankrupted,
and assets frozen, she became
a ghost from humans fled

Then, did he hear the people sing
the song of angry men?
Oh yes, he did in prison meet
the wrath of angry men

The gangsters, killers, rebels knew
that he was worst of all
and scarred his body, hatred torn
and thrashed him like a doll

In forty years he quit his cell
and tasted jealous light
a sick beard lonely, cold, and weak
in New York City’s night

With passion’s vulture dripping blood
stained purple from his gloam
he climbed out of the grimy slums
and found his home sweet home

He knocked and knocked on foreclosed locks
now owned by someone else
and opened by a young lad with
a flower fragrant-smelled

The door slammed shut of murmured words:
“A dirty rat unknown”
The ugly pirate robbed of teeth
and treasure to atone

He walked and walked from dawn to dusk
and mark – he saw his dear!
In rags and smoke she tried to smile
though she was close to tears

He blocked a guy who paid her cash
and interrupted with,
“Do you remember me, old mate”
he said unto the Miss

“I know you not, I am afraid”
she turned her face away
“Hey, who the hell are you?” her client
spat on his moustache grey

Was he hallucinating her,
was all this not a dream?
Alas, ‘twas none but her, his spouse,
ex-wife of number three

Anon, the air exploded hot
and shouting stamped a roar
of protests, flinging rocks at shields,
the cops were shooting gore

His boss’ picture at the stake
as fire burned the witch
The homeless crowds were powerless,
by law and tanks were squished

Escaped with bruises and his life
despaired and starved and dead
at Rockefeller Center stopped
he scaled a thousand steps

And once again he felt like king
of Wall Street’s creeping hedge
And once again he left the roof
But this time off the ledge

Today, in screeching winds around
the building tall and strong
the voices scream of ghosts that jumped,
all singing Fortune’s song




Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback