0654/1738 60/70 Blue Skies NE10/20 80%H.
DOGS 11318 8715 1389 2615.Libor 24. Vix 21.
Greetings from the Hill.
A chilly day in paradise,
long pants and socks,
cats on the sunny railing
and windows closed...
the oldman trying to find the time
to get the imagination in rhyme.
Watching House and ignoring CNBC,
"Not even the senile Maestro
playing mindfuck with the morons,"
laughs the madone bringing coffee.
"You lift 600 pounds at noon
then drink six pounds in the afternoon,"
frowning about daily habits,
but saying with a smile.
The painter had made 'it' through the month.
Three sold,six finished and four in progress,
rent paid, fridge and pantry filled,
colored TV in the gazebo
with baby coons as guests.
"Hey...I like 'it' here!"
A seeker of that mysterious wonder of gift
that allows the eye and hand to reproduce
with paint and canvas and a trusty easal,
something pleasing to the eye,
a vision curious to the mind.
that moment captured in time...
usually a week
standing on the street,
the stawker at night watching
the night people...
sucking beer
smoking pot
dreaming of pussy.
"Hey, I am what I am,"
laughing and playing a 'Popeye' song
on his harmonica,
an actual one man band
with bass, keyboard and guitar.
The ultimate studio man.
"That's damn white of you, Bigotman,
color TV and adornondak chairs,
gas grill in a succulent garden
classics and internet
with four windows
and a rocker on the balcony...
maybe he'll paint portraits at home,"
snarled the snot on the balcony,
feeding Viola a saucer of morning milk.
Jake arrived to pay his loan
and boast about romancing a topless dancer.
The oldman turned on the classics
and switched to CNBC.
Sunny and seventy degrees.
One imagines how long the bullshit goes on,
lying Assholes shorting currency bets
protected by derivative bets
guaranteed by counterparties...
not even investments,
gambling on a trend
how soon will 'it'' end...
the default of sovereign governments
and the Euro with
a new world currency...
an Amro with an Afro.
Five Primary Dealers,
twelve central banks
and a crooked congress.
responsible for the mess.
"Maybe something sneaky is going on,
the books are being fudged,
the off balance sheet
is a profit treat,"
laughs the Kid
leaving a rhyme.
Key West is my town,
trouble my gown,
sex without frown...
all one family
in paradise.
"Mad Jack..Mad Jack..,"
gushes the love of his mind,
"I am so sorry I lost Tony's bike,"
apologizing for stupidity
and gullibility.
Dumb and not young
anymore.
Gold was1416 and oil looked at ninety.
Silver was being manipulated
by Uncle George
for another blue bicycle.
"Obama, where is Osama?"
"We have to grow the economy."
With cheeseburgers in paradise.
The painter leaves
to paint the empty streets.
Above the Horn.
Within the Reef.
Safe on the Hill...
the christmas tree lights on.
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