Ode to Nothing Part II

Once upon a midday dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Over many an overbought issue and overhyped bore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my office door.

`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my darkened office door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I say it was in a bleak day in May,

And each separate dying security wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - happily I had sought to borrow(shares)

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for what was in store -

For the rare and radiant piledriver whom the angels named ‘The Big Score’ -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain plunging of each red candle

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors only once felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

`'Tis another stock entreating entrance to a lower floor -

Some falling stock entreating entrance to a lower floor; -

This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my account grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

TNA I said, VXX or AAPL and more, truly your short sales I implore;

But the fact you have so recently pushed higher, every day a little higher

And now so faintly you came tapping lower, tapping lower at my office door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -

Redness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that redness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming 1000 points lower dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before

But the sound was unbroken, and the feeling gave a token, “lower”

And the only words there spoken was the whispered words, `The Big Score!'

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `The Big Score!'

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the screens turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something on my S&P yearning;

Let me see then, what there at is, and this mystery explore -

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -

'Tis the much lower market and nothing more!'

Open here I piled on the shorts sales, when, with many a flirt and moment great,

Down then marched the candles, reminiscent of the days of autumn 2008

Still it was one hour ‘ere lows would be printed, I posted a post that one could not ignore

But, with all of traders great or small, whose advice should one take at all?-

I sat perched upon my Hermann Miller just inside my office door -

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this red piledriver beguiling my silent fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

Though thy voice said lower and lower and lower’ I said surely a time will say, “no more”

Ghastly grim for the longs and the slow, the plunge gained speed, then some more

Tell me what thy lordly name is if not “the Big Score?!'

Quoth the markets, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled my ungainly sense to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed such a plunge in history seeing-

The ugly to most, The beauty to some, of an event so revealing

With such name as `The Big Score.'

But the markets, sitting lonely at its lowest depth, spoke only,

That one word, as if its soul in that one word it did outpour.

Nothing lower further then it uttered - not a feather then it fluttered -

Till I scarcely more than muttered ‘ I am done and do deplore’

’Cover the shorts, then go long as before’, as my bounces have flown before.'

Then the markets said, `The Big Score.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,

Caught from some unhappy market master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of "The Big Score."

But the markets still beguiling all my accounts into smiling,

straight I wheeled a throng of longs into the bounce to get some more

Then, upon the chair sinking, I betook myself to thinking

When the bounce would fade and falter

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, giant, and ominous bounce had in store

What it had in store.

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the markets whose green candles now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On my chairs leather lining that the lamp-light chuckled o'er,

Pity on the robots plight for a moment I did delight

I shall press sell then, ah, “Another Big Score”!

Then, methought, as the account inswell grew denser, perfumed from an unknown sender

Sent by my Doppelganger whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,' I whispered, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee

Respite – respite and drink the spoils of victory more!

Quaff, oh quaff this strong ale, and forget this Big Score!'

Quoth the markets, `The Big Score.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, I spoke to the candles upstarting -

`Get thee back into the tempest and the volatility I endure!

Leave no uptick in your wake, down, down you must go to zero

Leave the PPT fiddling as did Nero

Leave the shortsellers unbroken! - quit the incessant rise to nevermore!

Quoth the markets, `Nevermore.'

And of the markets, though they dropped a token, still may they fall unbroken

To new depths the coming weeks that are hereto unspoken

My sellers greed will not be quenched until they are truly broken

Until they are truly broken

And my eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er me streaming throws my shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!