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Mike
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A Dyspeptic's Guide To Contemporary American Politics (In Verse)

Fifteen Feet Beneath Manhattan by Michael Silverstein

"Nowadays, you can't turn on the TV without some talking head telling you about the economy. Yet, in a world overrun by 'analysts,' only one man has the guts, the brains, and, quite frankly, the poetry to put it all in perspective.That man is Michael Silverstein... Silverstein is a true intellectual." — Gersh Kuntzman, The New York Post

"Few people have found much to laugh about in the stock market this year. Michael Silverstein is the exception. The Bard of the Bourse can find humor in losing money, globalization and stock options." — USA Today
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About Silverstein's Verse

 

This week two new parodies join our site. They deal with subjects that have become rather closely related in recent months—penny stocks and Enron.

The first poem, "Ode To Penny Stocks," keys off "A Vagabond Song" by Carman Bliss. Bliss became Canada’s poet laureate in 1928. And although this position in the English-speaking world has tended to be filled by well-connected and/or photogenic academics in the 20th century (some real quality types like Tennyson and Wordsworth held the post in England in the preceding century), Bliss was actually rather good. His Vagabond Song is a paean to nature. My revamped Wall Street version is a tribute to a great blue collar investment—penny stocks sold over-the-counter whose initial offering price is less than a dollar per share.

Ode To Penny Stocks

There is something ‘bout a penny stock that grabs me by the gills—
Kinky action, wild thrills;
I can buy shares for a song,
Then hope their price goes up and up and carries me along.

There are many penny histories my broker has extolled,
Of riches to the bold,
To those who bravely trolled,
In markets that the safety-minded simply opt to scold.

Though wiser heads say steady earnings make a stock go higher,
I’d rather take a flyer,
And turn a Vegas buck,
That doesn’t spring from wisdom’s realm but sprouts from pure dumb luck.

*****

Maybe it’s not nice to kick a company when it’s down. But with Enron, I just can’t help myself. Last week this site featured a work titled "The Ballad of a Now Defunct Enron." This time around our rhyming kick in the shins is called "On The Reef Of Enron’s Woes." Its poetic model is Longfellow’s "The Wreck of The Hesperus."

What a wonderful subject for parody is old Hesperus! The story of this poem (in the 19th century poets actually told stories in verse rather than emoting deep personal yearnings) involves a dimwitted sea captain who takes his daughter on a voyage doomed by the captain’s incompetence. Here’s a stanza that suggests the exquisitely sappy sensibility Longfellow brings to this work. It’s a description of the captain’s daughter:

Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax
Her cheeks like the dawn of day
And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds
That ope in the month of May.

‘Ope’? Yes, ope. I don’t make this stuff up. I just use it as a basis of satirical market commentary. So without further ado, here’s my updated Wall Street version of Longfellow’s immortal wreck—"On The Reef Of Enron’s Woes."

On The Reef Of Enron’s Woes

In Houston, land of energy,
The Enron bubble grew
A most peculiar synergy
A frothy, heady brew.

Gas wells and futures, pipelines, too
With partnerships offshore
Investors they just lapped it up
And begged to buy some more.

The regulators stepped aside
The analysts were conned
Financial writers thought they’d found
A profit magic wand.

""This don’t compute," said auditors
Exchanging puzzled looks
"We pay your fees," was the reply
"So help us cook the books."

When would-be pensioners inquired
Whether their firm was sound
"Of course," replied its CEO
"Our stock will soon rebound."

Employees asked with great alarm
"Should we these records shred?"
"Don’t sweat a thing," said management
"With pols we share a bed."

Now all these former fans and friends
Are reborn outraged foes
Praying they won’t get wrecked as well
On the reef of Enron’s woes.

*****

© Michael Silverstein
 

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