Dark day of deals, crowds rush in, Red losses turn black, shoppers win. Post-Thanks rush, frenzy and cheer What turns the tide from loss to profit here?

From my bowl, I gift you food With my handle as your guide, I help you churn the restless My stem keeps the hand safe, or is a punishment for the wicked My flesh and bones are crafted with the finest ivory, rock, wood, or precious stones, You can even improvise my body I'm a unit, an instrument, a method of measurement I am one of your oldest tools And quietly now, I lay nested in the heart of your home

In Hades' realm, the waters freeze, Where tears of woe dost form the seas. A wailing voice, so loud and chilling, The black stream of contemplating. A circle in the comedy where traitors are beheld, like Brutus, Cassius, and Judas.

In ancient whispers, a river flows, Where memory fades as a cold wind blows. A stream of dreams where past is shed, Calm as the owl, in night's cloak of dread.

First four: stink, mire in piles. Three more: period, longest of whiles. Captives encaged; Proud ruins, defiled