Investing 101 Targeting your Investment Strategy

Your Investment Strategy Focused

There’s trading room on the Web, even for a bond.
Still it huddles half-afraid, its eyes Wall Street-wide,
Competing for less leisure loaned.
Bring on your stockbrokers, unparagoned.
Drive in the economists, impelled and unowned.

Let me invest in Wall Street with a chastity belt
Protected by money markets and treasury bonds
Let me bear hindsight in a strategic melt
Should markets rise or fall like corbans.

From seedling finance writers grow sky-wracked editors.
Two shifting textures dazzle music into metaphors.
We have metonymy, a pastel symmetry.
Let us map the notes that connect the dots of our lives.

Sheltering stones of Wall Street remain as logistics granulate.
Showering mercy in a serious investment feat.
Dear bond trader, whose compelling tattoo reached a poet’s estate.
Music and Pen together, two multipartite beats.

Let me take on Wall Street with a tactical belt,
Should the writer be driven by phone.
Let me gulp my bonds like a patty melt,
Should words peak in my throat on the throne.

I love investing in those stocks
To check remiss reality.
Because they keep moving like clocks
Outside of that salty sea of sanity

And when they go down,
I shall not drown, or sell or frown,
Or upward gush the race to rush
Like lemmings to the edge of brush.

Instead, I’ll compound semaphores
of Ginnie Maes with cortical maze,
And softly fallen metaphors,
That skate cleanly shaven buy waves.

Rational traders sell-off throngs of the wise
To bulbous investors unafraid to upclimb.
Our Dow-cloistered voices peal macabre guise.
Bonds peaking too early snare on the barbed wire of time.

To drop your stocks online, first animate pregnant ads
Disguised as direct response sales letters.
Under your security’s current fads,
Sound will crush text in its path, a ballet leap across square-jowled betters.
Juggle Nasdaq’s afterwit. Enjoy your perquisite.

Behold the flowering of Universal Mind spiel.
Investors must play “What’s My Conduit?”
Retirement planning seized control of sweeping buzz appeal.
To move stocks as entertainment, tack shelters on to it.

Bonds sell environmental histories of property risk.
Midlist brokers need super sequels as time captors.
Showbiz, let it be, and forever, temerity. So runs the disc.
Target your investment strategy’s mutuality chapters.

Let me take on Wall Street with insight
In this race for a proper return.
Let me search enough hindsight,
Steeled investors are quick to discern.

Let me pause in a market so bearish,
To buy theme-park surprise.
As the Fed turns rates debonairish,
Foresight-wracked brokers surmise.

Markets spin vintage group theater,
Horizontal expression of the vertical desire to acquire.
Double dominion’s wish-creator,
Showbiz, not fear or greed games conspire.

And when the market’s art and technology merge
To bring out the creator in us all,
I’ll take profit in the dirge,
and broadcast memoirs in a food-court mall.

Irony controls markets, as figures of speech,
Virtues of technology’s plug-and-play fee.
By casting dollars with global reach,
Invest in that safety-net called wait-and-see.

Something strolled wonderfully right through the door.
Asking, “Where have we improved?”
Is there creativity on the Stock Exchange floor?
Has peristalsis in a time capsule moved?

Panopticons know all, so panopticon-bound,
Push technology became too rough, a midlist
When we all need a best seller, and so we found
The Web unrisked, unmasked, unmissed.

Search Engines’ stock read, “Are We Still Number One?”
While investors traded from their online gazebo.
Dreaming of DVDs skipping crazily on a run,
Webmasters sold their placebo.

Computers streamline senses by masking noise.
At their exits, existence fades.
Ambient hums of Treasury bonds escape as toys.
Joy is social security, entertainment, and shades.

Bandwidth creates “bond-with” as we bond with bands of treasuries triumphant.
Let our memoirs mark time capsules in ironies.
Sculpture from the spectrum, holographic chimes.
Double-knit smiles for my registered rep…

We are seas of sanities like nets cast on the face of stars.
Metaphor becomes metonymy.
Music in you dazzles spectrums of rainbows.
Lightspeed beyond on all editors’ days, forever.

We long to compose and twist hours into hope.
Music and words aimed at petals that sunlight eats.
Editors of investment journals weave music in rope.
We play the frozen notes and grow music’s amber sheaves.