Some claim chaos governs everything,
From the spread of moulds and wind,
To shares and social sciences,
All things riding waves of noise,
Set off by Butterflies on Mars,
To make storms in the oyster beds.
From small anxieties in lesser cogs,
Panic grows, the viruses of money,
Stealing true life from matter,
Spreading, not caring for the rest,
Slowly eroding the sand and clay,
The square mile of talk and rumour.
Some squeeze commerce down to dust,
Manufacture money out of nothing,
Spread betting with derivatives,
And hedging with the risk passed on,
To users, drugged with acquisition,
Seeing things and wanting more.
Hold two opposing thoughts in mind,
And still believe in both of them,
Make vacancies in key areas,
And in a week all are forgotten,
Burn capital and keep commodities,
Ten thousand routes to market.
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