MASTER OF HORROR, POE, REVISITED | THE BRAZEN
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-borrowed
But 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 curtain
Skillfully – 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.
Stacks of loans they were churning, sold ten times before the closing,
And soon I heard, “People are tapping their equity like never before!”
Surely,” said I, “surely you saw the rats in the attic and the rotting window lattice?”
“Let me see, then” said the appraiser, “how much should this appraisal be for? -
Let me be a shill for the broker and there’s no mystery to explore -
Why it’s the loan amount and nothing more!”
The Dow slumped, the market shuddered, with many hurt or underwater,
In stepped the greedy banksters with their shady ways abhorred;
Knowing how malfeasance is ignored, they perpetrated fraud upon the courts;
Yet, with lien absurd and hazy, they purchased my abode outside the courthouse doors -
Purchased by the trust on a bunch of fallacies outside the courthouse doors -
Purchased, and sat, and nothing more.
Fannie and Freddie were so beguiling, screwed you over while they’re smiling,
By the Baum and Stern law firms they waged a mountainous war.
“Go, thy zest is sure and driven. Now!” They said, “More work we sure are craving,
We’re ghastly, grim – whatever you’re paying! Add forgery and it’s Katy bar the door! -
Tell me Lords, why can’t we flood the courts with paperwork to take more?” -
Quoth the Brazen, “Take some more.”
Much they marveled how their gainful foul-ups could steer the courts so clearly,
That this was nothing more than outright thievery – little relevancy bore;
“For we cannot stop until enslaving every living human being! -
Ever ready our war chest is guaranteeing victory inside chamber doors -
Blur and cheat until we’ve fractured justice outside chamber doors -
We rig the game, we know the score.”
Then the Brazen, sitting lofty atop their market bust, crowed loudly
These words, and the role of government pawns they did outpour:
“Their threats are nothing more than bluster – they know where their bread is buttered -
We have friends in place where other friends have been before -
From Goldman Sachs to Treasury is a revolving door.”
Then they said, “And there’ll be more.”
Swindled, millions were left broken, by lies so aptly spoken,
Doubtless the banks cutthroat ways helped their stock to soar;
Bought off by their masters, judges wreak unmerciful disaster,
Following one hearing by another faster, still their wrongs no burden bore -
“Tell the dregs they’re a burden in my court!
They’ll find my answer on their door!”
But the Brazen still beguiling about all those folks robo-signing ,
Straight faced they said “She’s a VP of MERS, Wells and more!”
Then within a second’s blinking, they created documents that were missing -
“Fancy that, we found the mysterious note of yore!”
Is it Chase, Wells or Citi who owns this mysterious note of yore?
Ever cloaking, they’re not sure.
For a settlement the AG’s are pressing, but is it more than window dressing?
Their howls to stop these outright robberies we’ve heard before;
Theft and more they’re still defining, but the Brazen at ease reclining
That the public servants do their bidding they gloated over,
That claims of those violated would never see daylight they gloated over,
Charges shall be pressed? Nah, nevermore!
With “Occupy” the air grew tenser, “Fumigate those unclean protesters!”
Stung by pepper spray and foot stomps to the head behind jailhouse doors.
“Watch,” they cried, “thy squad Bloomberg lent thee – will deny free speech and liberty -
Respite – there’ll be no respite or reprieve in our plundering of thy poor!
Squash, oh squash those who demonstrate for the middle class and poor!”
Quoth the Brazen, “Squash some more.”
“Profit!” they said, “thing of beauty! – profit, at any cost, is our duty!”
Whether investor who lent, or whether servicer tossed thee out the door ,
Desolate all ye evicted, of wrongdoing they’re never convicted -
On this home foreclosure haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
Is there – is there proof who owns it – show me, show me, I implore!
Quoth the Brazen, “We’re not sure.”
“Profit!” they said, “thing of beauty! – profit, at any cost, is our duty!”
Made on the backs of those who bend below them – money is the only God they adore -
“Tell those souls whose place we’ve taken, with unpaid debt they now are laden,
It is only the beginning of what we have in store” -
Till your last gasp they will take and then take some more -
Quoth the Brazen, “Probate Court.”
Now the word is reviews are starting, with your rights will you be parting? -
The OCC says you could be eligible for a cash reward!
In backrooms, deals are spoken, any punishment will be token -
While those made homeless remain broken – “Quick, sign here for yours!”
Take your check from the fox who guards the henhouse doors!
Bought by the Brazen, forevermore.
And the Brazen, ever thriving, are still conniving, still conniving
To steal homes on the steps outside the courthouse doors;
With all their lies and their scheming, in a state of constant dreaming,
To come up with next idea like robo-signing or MERS;
What will it take for a revolution to begin to stir?
We must rise up and say – nevermore!
I arrived at Broward County Courthouse a little after nine o'clock this morning. Patrick met me coming into courtrooms 519/518, where approximately 300 foreclosures cases are heard each day. He then informed me that his hearing on the Motion to Cancel Sale was cancelled, no reason given and the reset date to be determined. 
