Extravaganza of A Stanza or Two...

October 24, 1929

Dropping tears, falling knees,

Marked greens that do not please;

Aimless gazes stunned

By Medusa’s malicious stare.

Rushing minds, how could this be?

Rushing legs, to the banks, you see.

Mere pawns, mere scapegoats,

Some another in the fall.

From hope to despair,

Just a day, that was all.

Streets turned darker,

And soon bleaker;

Plutus impaled,

More morbid than ever.

I Do

I yearn beneath the soils,

The nights that would pass
Under a gentle rocking.

I know not if it is dawn or dusk
Nor if it shines, drizzles, or soaks;

But I do- I do miss the guessing games,

I do miss them all.

Is today the day,

Mothers- perhaps two or three

Do bargain for bread on the bustling London streets?

Or was that yesterday,

And today freckled boys work their arms for but twopence a pair?

Does it matter,

The scenes I hurtled by then

Are engraved, replayed and clearer since who knows when?

Regardless-

I do, I do yearn beneath the soils,

The nights that would pass

Under a gentle rocking.

First Image: http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01014/wallstreet_1014938c.jpg

Second Image: http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/07/28/article-2180284-143F12FA000005DC-97_634x360.jpg