Dollars and cents,
that make no sense,
the market bubble expands,
but is not based on supply and demand.

Retirements savings and hedge funds,
like the triggers of loaded guns,
when at last the bubble bursts,
that day will be black and the worst.

Worthless dollars in Mason jars,
dug up at night under the stars,
Wall Street dead, thrown in the hole,
greenbacks burned to trap their souls.

The rich stay rich, the rest are broke,
like turning wheels and bicycle spokes.
Eventually it comes around,
accompanied by gun shot sounds.

Broken futures and broken lives,
helped by governmental lies,
wealth is shared to nth degrees,
will be like ships on an empty sea.

So be smart and stock pile,
food, guns and bullets all the while,
have a place to go and hide,
zombie hoard is coming in stride.

Once the trucks stop rolling in,
they will commit acts of sin,
killing, stealing, **** and pillage,
in every city and every village.

So be prepared and trust a few,
get ready for perpetual stew,
what you can **** goes in the ***,
what you can grow will be what?

Compounds built and alliances formed,
there will be no choice in this storm,
and if we emerge on the other side,
we'll be self sufficient and full of pride.

The campfire burns and the coals are glowing,
stories and laughter as the drinks are flowing,
Canadian Mist mixed with 7-up
or Dr. Pepper and Fireball fill up our cups.

Leaning back in our chairs, looking up at the sky,
seeing the stars and satellites fly by,
Pleiades, Orion, the Big Dipper and Taurus,
the coyotes starting a countryside chorus.

Shadows dance in the flickering light,
turn off the lantern, let's enjoy the night,
a moving red light darts through the trees,
the distant highway can be heard with the breeze.

Mesquite leaves crackle, as they burn up fast,
our time at the deer lease never seems to last,
one final hunt, and were done in the morning,
will be back for spring turkeys, this is their warning.

A coat of paint applied in the night,
the landscape now devoid of color,
bleached and the edges smudged,
no details visible in the early light.

The sun begins to climb and burn through
the **** frost that clings to everything,
setting the morning afire, with tiny LED lights
as each crystal and each flake reflect.

The wind is powered by Sols energy,
it begins to pick up and roll the powder,
combining it with ice and forming forts,
and mountains, as it piles it high.

Outside adventurers return,
red-cheeked and frozen,
glazed white like cinnamon rolls,
and in need of hot chocolate.

All eyes on her as she walks in,
Her clothes are tacky, so is the color of her skin,
Spray on tan that makes her golden,
volcanic laughter like she is explodin'.
Not sure why but you know her name,
dancing on the bar like she is insane.

Mirrored footsteps on pine needles,
oak leaves crispy crack each step,
I can hear faint breaths from behind me,
but each time I look, nothing.

Faded shadows swirl behind trees,
faces in the gray and black bark wink,
taunting me, feeding on my paranoia,
birds fly, startled by something not far.

Knocking sounds in the distance,
something flies by my head,
a rock bounces across my path,
a giant splash from the creek.

I proceed at my own risk,
large footprints in the mud,
suddenly I am surrounded,
a dozen deer run by, tails flagging.

A mountain lion screams in the distance,
is that in fear or warning,
either way I walk in the territory,
of large hairy beasts, afraid, but unconvinced.

Pleasant confusion in the multicolored LED's,
blinking blue icicles, dangle dangerously,
threatening to fall and pierce my eyes,
I would move, however, I am stuck in a snow angel.
Or rather, a snow angel stuck me here.

Eggnog showed me the way, held my hand in its mug handle,
as for the snow angel, she is hiding in the cave in the
snowdrift somewhere below me.
Laughing hysterically.

Santa and Frosty are also here,
grinning cherubically at my situation,
yet they offer no help, despite my pleas.
Slowly I begin to feel the Christmas Spirit.

Rudolph finally helps me out of the drift,
his red nose blinking wildly as I pull on his halter,
I stagger to my feet and stand to people clapping,
they begin to sing Silent night, as I go in the house.

Enigmatic music plays in my head,
setting the scene for what is to come,
my cryptic grin seems out of place,
but my mind is three scenes ahead.

Rarely does reality follow my oracular thoughts,
perplexinglingly  though, I am rarely surprised
as to the actual outcomes of the scenarios.
I am entertained, but rarely a victim of my own mind.

Ambiguous questions, resulting in vagaries,
an answer is usually never close,
just more questions, basically rhetorical,
all good ideas with no way to execute.

Lost in the miasma of the everyday,
details distract, like a squirrel on a dogs trail,
or the sight of a beautiful girl, walking the aisle at Wal-Mart,
hey, it happens.

Running a hamster wheel with purpose and destination,
yet never getting to any of the planned actions,
such is life, or so they say.
Roll the dice and read the card, Good Luck.