Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Not enough Warriors to be Saviors.

0711/1803 62/75 Blue Skies NE10/15 77%H
DOGS 10561 7696 1112 1802.

Greetings from the Hill.

A beautiful day in paradise,
reading the New Yorker on the balcony,
classics through the open window,
in the morning sun...
CNBC fools ignored in the bedroom,
roosters across the street,
away from the madone's hose,
cat's sleeping in chairs of their own.

Swaying palm trees and quiet streets.

A message from Alida, the hot dog lady,
when Carter was President...
an entrepreneur with the aluminum wagon,
"Steam your buns
and relish your wiener."
She had a dream to be city manager
and change the conch corruption...
hearts are broken in paradise
minds turn to alcoholic slop,
and hope exists in dope.

"Hey, asshole, only for those who stay,"
laughs the madone, seen it all,
watcher of fools fall,
and the brokers call.

"Yeah, fucking blah, 'it's' all bullshit,"
said Billy to Henry Fonda,
when Scott Brown sucked ass
in the state senate, another Guardsman,
a JAGmaster and no kills,
strange religious background
that didn't get him into BAIN
and Romneys' circle.

The oldman watched him embarrass
his lovely daughters on National TV,
"They are available..."
even George Stupid Bush
wouldn't pimp his daughters,
this fuck is a fool.

And the grinning President pumped hands
in another losing show of support.

An earthquake destroys an already ruined nation.

The Three Stooges agree to help.

Three Assholes who have ruined America.

One wonders if the spokesman
is always the jokesman,
comfort the audience
and smile at the ladies,
humor the fat fool
paying the bill...
the credit card consumer...
"Spend, spend, spend,"
encouraged George after 9/11
on the road to debt heaven.

Clinton released the Three Headed Dog.

This verbal flowmaster believes his own shit,
whoever unleased this monster of deceit
will find the dog of CHAOS
with a fix on the River Styxx...


"Imagine what happened this year,
Hope and Change in Obamaville,
this jivetalking halfwhite geek
made whitefolk ghettos
out of suburbs,"
growled the madone
hating the Joker Clown.

FCIC to understand what caused the theft
of wealth and assets, the fortunes
of middleclass masses without cable,
for the Super Bowl...
a month to go before outrage
"And outage."

The Consumer Cow is out of Milk.

Curdled and girdled on wobbly legs,
too weak to eat green shoots.

"Sell your stock, take the walk,
or is 'it' all in name
of Cede and Company,
the shadow holders of all,
the bogus trust of DTCC,
a game one cannot see."
growls the oldman not blind.

The classics get static at sunset,
grey skies and palm leaves,
Angora squeezing through the louvered door,
cat food in the President's room,
Tony finished in the garden,
Alger at his computer,
this house not for sale.

"Make 'it' a home,"
said Mrs Albury,
when the oldman was young.

Viola jumps through the empty pane
broken by a raving rooster,
the attacks from unwanted birds,
pets of the indian woman,
rejected by Hollywood
and the neighbor on 'The Lane'.

Perhaps a star is needed,
a quarterback
not an Ombumboy
for George Soros
and the Moniests

Above the Horn,

Beyond the Reef,

On the Hill.

.

3 comments:

Alida Antonia Cornelius said...

1. My hot dog wagon was stainless steel.

2. I never wanted to stop corruption. How could pirates ever be anything but corrupt? I did, however, wish a tsunami would come and wash away all the cocaine addicts. But, Inez always told me not to worry. "They only kill each other."

3. And I never wanted to be city manager. I only wanted them to leave me alone to peddle my gourmet hot dogs on Duval Street.

4. And after all the city's efforts to run my hot dog wagon and me off of Duval Street, they designated that all the mobile vendors could have spaces down at Mallory Square, where now the abundance of mobile vendors operate away from Duval.....I hear the couple who operate the hot dog wagon there now make about $60,000.00 a year. I guess I was onto something.

Nope, the reason I left paradise was to to get my Bachelors in non-profits so I could return to help Mel Fisher in the museum he was going to create. Things just don't end up the way you plan sometime.

And now Key West has changed so much. It's overly crowded. And turned into another town full of newcomers who want everyone to paint their houses white, and charge people ridiculously high prices and Molina's bakery is gone.
What is Key West without Molina's bakery?

Are people still using bicycles as the main mode of transportation, or have mopeds taken over the peaceful island?
Key West has changed too much.
I am glad I left.

The conchs have mostly moved away, selling their properties for huge profits and let the rich move in, who have changed the charm of the island.
It's not the island of charm and grace anymore.

It's a commercial getaway not much different than any other overdeveloped island.

Yes, the sheriff ran me out of town when he closed my hot dog wagon on New Year's Eve and made it clear that the people who influenced the police would do whatever they could to stop me from legally working in a clean and respectable manner by just getting a strong arm cop to stop me from the freedom to make an honest living.

I vowed I would return to work with Mel Fisher, but shit happens and I never had the desire to return after the birth of my beloved daughter.

But, the memories I have of my time in Key West during a more simpler time, always remain.

There is not better place in the USA for snorkeling off shore near the remains of Hemingway's house out to sea. And I do miss No Name Key....and all of the wonderful coral reefs. I bet No Name Key is filled with development now.

And what happened to Leon Sands, who wanted me to work for him and start a ranch for troubled kids?

I do miss Key West. But, I know I wouldn't miss what it has turned into.
Overpopulated and full of hedonistic capitalistic transplanted people with dollars in their bloodshot eyes.

And I do miss you and "Uncle Sam" Bobby Budakian, whom I contact occasionally....usually to give him a tip on who is going to win the Kentucky Derby.

And I am glad my chickens took over the island. The least I could do is leave a legacy which would drive all the newcomers into realizing they don't live in their "normal" type neighborhoods anymore. They live in a place they have to share with the descendants of my prized Banty's, lol....

I mean, it was the least I could do to get back at those people who drove me out of business. Maybe the roosters crow my protest everyday over what those jerks did to me by forcing me to leave by running my little hot dog wagon from the paradise I had once found.

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Conchscooter said...

Despite all the corrections by the end she agrees with your initial assessment. I guess between one toke and another aluminum could transmogrify into stainless.