Saturday, September 8, 2012

Carnival of Fools The Mardi Gras of Meltdown

Here we are again, Dear Friends,
Right in the middle of election season.  It deeply puts me in mind of that fateful weekend in '08 when all the great financial, investment and banking leaders were meeting with political,.fiscal and congressional heads of finance and government to try to figure out how to avoid a catastrophic meltdown of our monetary system.
I sat down and began writing one of my most intricate and lengthy poems about that weekend and what brought us to the crisis.
After four years of writes and rewrites enough create a confetti shower at a New Year's eve party, I finally got it together.  Then 6 more months of considering and choosing the photos and deciding their placement on the site page.  All of you who work with sites know the many limitations they present and how finicky they can be. 
Soooooo, with that said, I present to you Carnival of Fools, the Mardi Gras of Meltdown.   It is posted on   --- the second poem.    If you like the poem and the gorgeous photos, I am asking that that you give it special consideration for sending on to friends and  acquaintances since my site has no ads, no blogs, no links, no comments. . .only astounding photos, my poetry and the accompanying audio.
I am very surprised at how many people I talk to have no idea what happened to cause the final meltdown, and don't understand what was the final break in a long series of events that resulted in the loss of income, savings plans, pensions, homes, and ultimately, jobs for so many of us.   Without trying to be partisan, I have tried to clarify that final event from an unusual perspective, Mardi Gras.  If you think Carnival of Fools helps, please post it and link it to sites that will help it find its way.   Thank you,   Sandy Hartman     

                                     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 loses
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

©   9/29/08
Sandy Hartman

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for your contribution, Sandy. It's well worth reminding us that history repeats itself unless...