Master Of Horror, Poe, Revisited

The Brazen by Pathelfrick

Thrust upon a middle class bleary, they were plundered, while weak and weary,Over many a tainted and spurious document came a forger’s reward.While they plotted, data mapping, predictably there came a trapping,And then someone stoutly rapping, rapping at my front door.“Tis the Sheriff,” he muttered, “taping an eviction notice on your front door -We’ll take this one and we’re serving more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember that bleak September,And each chickenshit lying senator whose vote was bought before they hit the floor,Surely it could crash the morrow; - blamed on those who over-borrowedBut it was the banks who fleeced the borrower - then sought to borrow for the last big score -For the Brazen backed their trucks up to the Treasury doors -Lawlessness for evermore.

The bilkers were certain their hustling was hidden behind the theatre curtainSkillfully - they bilked me with fees and paperwork errors never seen before;So that now, my mod still pending, documents I faxed repeatedly,I heard a visitor entreating entrance at my front door -A “visitor” changing the locks on my front door! -Tis “property preservation” and nothing more.

Devilishly their souls grew darker; hesitating then no longer,“Your Honor, they said, “truly your forgiveness I implore.It is a paperwork issue and nothing more.”And then boldly, boldly they went rapping, rapping on his chamber doors,“That donation I’m sure has found you, here’s an envelope opened wide with more, -Greenbacks here, and there’s plenty more.”

Sheep that were ripe for shearing, into exotic loans banks were steering,Shouting, “The American Dream is on sale like never before!”Approval promises went unbroken, underwriting was just a token,And the only words spoken by brokers were the whispered words, “Buy more.”Then I whispered, “I have no income, no job, no assets and a poor credit score.”All technicalities, and nothing more.

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