Eon Writer
  • Titles I
    • What the World Needs
    • Carnival of Fools
    • Free
    • Drawing on the Inner Fire
    • A Bee and Dragon Dreams
    • Save the Children
    • Spiritual Progress
    • Woman of the Universe
    • Blue Collar Homecoming
    • Going Home
    • Eon Traveler
    • Wonder Car
    • A Poor Boy's Love Song
  • Titles II
    • Dark Night of the Dinosaur
    • In Praise of Consumption
    • Movin' Stuff Around
    • Not Your Fool
    • Sacred Ground
    • Because I Care
    • Benediction in Troubled Times
    • Measuring Things Divine
    • Galaxy Rising (a gamer's fantasy)
    • Journey into Genesis
    • Journey through the Mind of God
  • Titles III
    • Daughter of My People
    • Lesson of the Waterfall
    • A Hungry Kitty
    • A Man's Way
  • My Bio and You
  • Afterward
  • Contact Me
                      Carnival of Fools
            The Mardi Gras of Meltdown


Oh, the grand parade has come at last 
And all the revelers swagger past 
Saints Go Marching In 
With their leverage, pork and show
And proposals shrewd and bold
They wish to staunch their losses 
That are much too cruel to hold    
They whirl and twirl and dance 
To jazz, pizzazz, and razzmatazz 

They've spent a frenzied weekend 
Adjusting their adornments 
Refining their performance 
Now it’s down the streets of gold 
To the Capitol of Capital 
King Congress 
That they go
Hey come a down beat     Boom beat     Down

They strut their stuff on K Street 
They saunter down through Wall Street 
On they go to Main Street and all around the town 
See all the speculators, the managers and bankers
See all the lobbyists, executives and raiders

Judiciously they hedge in prancing camouflage 
Identities are blurred, realities obscured 
They wear their sparkling masks 
Daubed in paint and mourning ash 
They whirl in feathered frills 
And laissez fare's panache 
Boom jam    Jingle jam     
Caper down the street jam      



                   ~~~~~



Oh, they'll testify to tragedy 
They'll tout their credibility 
They'll mourn for the economy 
And disappeared liquidity 
Then they'll warn of credit urgency
And mortgage backed security
They’ll tell of what is wrong 
All wrong         Gone wrong 
Beyond their small control wrong 
Boom jam     Doom jam     Hey baba June jam

They’re unavoidably caught up 
In floods of green and gold 
They'll swear in loyal innocence 
They know not how it's so
They are patriot paraders 
Responsible and reasonable 
And now they’re ready to cajole 
Juke jive       Jump alive
La dee da dee da      Lies! 
 
There are mighty plans for buyouts 
And clever plans for bailouts 
They'll ask for pretty handouts 
To make the money flow 
They'll assure the Treasure King 
With their paper assets sound 
They say they know of wizards 
Who'll insure parades abound 
Oh , they’ll devise, derive, and advertise
Their business sense they will revise
Voodoo magic     Mumbo jumbo     
Pork pie and gumbo
 





                      ~~~~~ 




But there are marchers over there 
In jeans and denim shirts 
They carry paper bags 
For lunches when they work 
There are marchers with portfolios 
In suits and ties and collars 
They have lists of all their pensions 
Their investments and their dollars 
They’re in ordinary guise 
These marchers can’t be wise
They have no glitz, no glamour 
No costumes nor disguise

They’re rather like the crowds
Who gather in the streets 
The crowds that beg for beads 
And push for passing treats 
They satisfy themselves 
At painted breasts to peek 
They ask for lipstick kisses 
And their promises so sweet 
They dream Chantilly dreams 
They follow ruffled goddesses 
Who saunter down the street
Shuffle rompin’     Street stompin’  
Groovin’ to the juke    Jive




                       
$$$$





Now look again above 
At fat and thin white faces 
Squared in gilded windows 
Looking down upon the fray
Their tall silk hats and black bow ties 
Appear and disappear 
They white glove wave and sip champagne 
To toast the crowds that shout acclaim 

And who is that who moves behind  
In silence, hidden and so high
Who in secret seeks to spy
From smoke and mirrors and shadows nigh
Who makes their wishes known
As they tap on golden curtains
That cover and disguise 




                      ~~~~~




I for one am tired from watching far too long 
This strutting wild parade that’s going on and on and on 
My feet are wet and caked in dirt 
My shoes stuck fast in paint 
I'm covered in confetti clumps 
Of worthless shredded crepe 

When I turn to walk away 
From all the bogey faces 
My pockets feel that they‘ve been picked 
My shoes are mired in the slick

Then at last I stop to think
And I know I’ve lost the way   
I realize my job is gone
And my mortgage I can’t pay 

c  9/29/08
Sandy Hartman

Picture
Picture

Picture

Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture

Picture

Picture
Picture
Picture

Picture

Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture

Picture

Picture
Picture
Picture