Tuesday, June 9, 2015

The Laureate-The Stock Market (Prose Poem)

All who play in this bizarre casino become whirling marionettes whose strings are controlled by the gluttonous gamin of greed. Its electronic tentacles reach out to every corner of the world, and a million dreams are devoured in less than a heartbeat. The players become mindless puppets, who attempt to kiss the golden horns of Mammon, before Dame Luck turns her gaze askew. The object of the game is to form the highest mountain of wealth before the toll of the closing bell brings an end to that days contest. To meet this end, each contestant has a plethora of presumptions on how other players will react to vacuous information that flows along the ethereal electronic Styx that connects the real world and Elysium.
An Industrial giant can be brought to its knees because it failed to meet the expectation that some mind (unknown to most) pulled from ether vast as a maxim that it must obey.
Its very existence is threatened because a dividend missed that hazy target by  a few cents. Floods of tears are shed by those who guessed wrong about the giant‘s fate, but those astute players who guessed right will bear smiles that will outshine the sun in a cloudless sky. Few contestants realizing that their actions controlled the giant‘s fate.
Never has a game been played simultaneously by more opponents.
Never has there been more at stake.
Never has inanity had more control.

 {From The Essence of Jim by James E. Cox}


Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by James E. Cox.

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