0720/1910 78/83 Grey skies E10/15 95%H
Greetings from the Hill.
Overcast and a grey cover above,
perhaps God has put a TARP overhead
to create a proper mood to begin
the financial fall, a golden autumn,
silver moments for sunset years...
"But in your paper dreams,
nothing is real, we will insure your hedge
against moneyworms," laughs the madone
beyond 'it' all.
A dear friend arrived to take the oldman
for a famous hogfish sandwich
overlooking mangroves and still waters
and his the only cellphone...
keeping track of what was left
after that 777 day of doom.
"And just the beginning, this is fraud,
I know, you know where I live,
'the HedgeHog town, Ha Ha...
I like that, maybe put up a sign,"
his broker called between beers,
no martini lunches for this
he lived there before the hogs,
the honest years after Nixon.
"No one is going to learn about this scam
and no one wants to know, cover it up,
your 'it' will go away, or..."
shrugging and pouring from the pitcher,
it had a bag of ice to keep it cool
and half full, four fucking cups
for eight dollars, little cups
the lunch was sixteen bucks each.
"Hey, don't worry, I'm paying
and this is worth the flight,"
always at home in his dream.
"You know everything is half price
for cash," he laughed and frowned
wondering how far down,
things were not good in town,
restaurants and bars half full
at happy hour, no one laughing.
"It's getting like the seventies
before drugs and samesex,
money and perversion
and then corruption
with government hand's out,
now 'it's' handouts,"
leaving the out islands
for a stop at Home Depot.
"Three registers, that's all,"
always watching things,
"And at Walmart in Homestead
when I got the catfood..four,"
emphasizing the signs of the times.
"Might as well give the country
to the janitors and the cashiers,
moneycounters and floorsweepers,
the service industry," snorting,
"In service of slavery."
Away in the rental and off to Miami,
a drink in Atlanta and homeward
for fishing in the morning
off the banks of the green witches,
the greedy wives of Hedge Hogs.
The oldman was drained from a week
that was lying words of worry
by those talking tits dreaming
of their ratings and fucking Warren,
models expert with the look
and sidekicks as stupid as weathermen
comic relief and silly gaffoons...
"Oh oh where can we go, ask Jim,"
the idiot savant playing court jester
for blue collar investors
trading SUV's for SIV's,
buying CMO's for maturity,
and coffee and oil options
from Goldman Sachs,
all online of course
from a laptop on the golfcourse.
"It ain't over yet,"
said John Wayne in the rain.
Of course of course, off course,
the baked alaskan wonderwoman
turned into a shrill knownothing
with an even dumber daughter
who couldn't cross her legs
to a hockey stick.
Mumbles wife loves the family,
she upgrades the slow witted,
the poor and the handicapped,
and loves dayglo green.
Fast moving grey clouds passing
over the hill, static with the classics,
the weather station a relief from CNBC,
anxiety over roof leaks
and not dollar dam breaks.
Bernanke and fellow stockholders of the FED,
that private company acquiring the DEBTS
of this nation of FOOLS as well as assets,
those specific contracts available later,
after the bankruptcy proceedings
of cities and counties...
"Hello assholes, remember Orange County,
the biggest, the richest in the WORLD,
the Keating Five and who got away,
Honest John and Senator Glenn,
but not Mike, he did time
and kept the money,
a trail through the Grammholes
and Enron with the dish of delight
'too fucking complicated', claim
those occupants of Foggy Bottom,"
ranted the madone pissed with liars
who hire expensive lawyers
or own the law firms
and change the LAW.
The smirking murderer walked
and strutted florida free
for thirteen years when justice failed
and now traitors will trade away
the soul and heart of everyman
who dreamed beyond his means
then schemed with coconspirators
who knock on foreclosed doors,
and peddle on the Internet
opportunities to own
the AMERICAN DREAM.
Too many crooks walking,
too many lies talking.
Too few angry pissed off people.
A nation of gutless wonders
with big bellies.
Enjoy the breeze
from politicians passing wind