The Spider And The Fly

President Obama’s lovable friend, Dr. Zeke (Mengele) Emmanuel, the leading proponent of death panels for Obamacare, says he has voluntarily decided to die at age 75, and proposes that everyone else also die at 75 so as not to become a burden on the family and the health care system. He does not say if universal death at 75 is to be voluntary or government aided, but I have my suspicions. I’m 85, with no observable expiration date, and intend to continue to bore my grandchildren and great-grandchildren for another thirty years with how much better it was in the good old days.

I don’t want to be a burden
Said the spider to the fly
Come sit with me and listen to me well
I’ve set the date that I shall say
Goodbye to all and die
For it is I who strikes the mourning bell
But think thee said the little fly
What surely you will miss
The beauty of your web in dew specked sun
Bejeweled with gleaming diamonds from
The sun’s sweet gentle kiss
All gone as soon as life is truly done
The spider, weeping, gave a sigh
And said I know you’re right
But I am tired of seizing such as you
Depriving you of your short days
And wrapping you up tight
For you’re entitled to your lifetime too
So saying then, the spider leaped
The fly was quick and bold
And hovered as he watched the web still sway
It sorrows me, the small fly said
To see you’re getting old
The date you’ve set must surely be today

The Dream

The radical left wing of the Democratic Party has labored for seventy years to attain their dream of a socialist utopia in the United States, and seem on the verge of accomplishing it. To dream is but to live, to live is but to dream and it matters not the dream be unfulfilled, it matters not the dream be unreachable, it matters only that the dream be dreamed. At the height of the Black Death, with half their populations dead, Venice and Genoa continued to fight for control of the Bosporus and the trade of the Black Sea, for only the dream of commercial dominance was real. And so we leave Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders and the rest of the Radical Left to their dreams, for nothing will persuade the dreamers that their dreams are not to be realized, and that, should one foolishly attempt to enter the dream, there lies only future catastrophe and generational misery.

A dream is like a river in its ceaseless flow
The dreamer carried on past flowered banks
Through deep gorged mountain passes filled with drifting snow
While smiling zealots cheer in serried ranks
Few dreamers ever reach the delta and the sea
And those who do in history have a name
They left a legacy of death and misery
And shattered nations burdened with their shame
And so we leave to all of them their fervid dreams
Of socialist ice cream and apple pie
Their dream boat taking water with its open seams
In spite of which the dream will never die

The Great Game

I am weary unto death of the Turks, the Middle East, and Obama, and prefer to turn my attention to loftier matters, namely the Great Game. The Great Game is not politics, nor business, nor is it the struggle between Britain and Russia for control of Central Asia and the riches of the Orient. No, the Great Game is football, and the struggle for control of the Lombardi Trophy. Let us forget the troubles and travails of the world and rejoice, for NFL training camps open Sunday

The summer wends its weary way
Toward Autumn when some large men play
A game that captivates us all
Who cannot wait till it is Fall
When leaves turn golden red with flame
And teams line up to play The Game
The tempo of the season goes
From first game sun to late game snows
From Autumn heat to Winter cold
Each Sunday sees the story told
We laugh and cheer and often cry
Giants, Boys, Fly Eagles Fly

Lepidoptera

Now that Obama has given Iran permission to build nuclear weapons and has given them 100 billion dollars to immediately buy any conventional weapons they choose from whoever they choose to buy them from, there will be a boom in arms sales to Iran, and then there will be a Boom. Obama has his own hidden reasons for doing what he does, and Putin and Xi expect Russia and China to profit greatly. Obama and Putin and Xi remind me of caterpillars racing along the top of a fence, looking for the pot of gold at the end of it. But being lepidoptera they do not realize that when they reach the end of the fence that will indeed be the end of it.

I watched them running fast atop the fence
Three caterpillars racing neck and neck
Assuming that to them the race made sense
They reached the end and dropped down to the deck
The decking had a gap between each plank
And down they went below the pine plank floor
To come out later by the water tank
And climb the fence and race along once more
I asked them why they raced each other so
They said a hundred billion was at stake
They said they saw the prism colored bow
Said the thought of all that gold just made them shake
I said Iran will shortly have the bomb
And infidels like you will be at risk
They smiled a cheerful smile with great aplomb
Said only dirty Jews will feel the whisk
I left them sitting calmly, breathing hard
As hungry birds began to circle ‘round
The shadows creeping slowly ‘cross the yard
The silent stillness making not a sound
I envied them their vigor and their youth
I knew not were they moth or butterfly
They did not sense the danger, more’s the truth
Not even with the bird wings ‘gainst the sky

My Kitchen Window

I sit at night long into dark, listening to the night sounds that says all is not quiet in the woods behind the house. There’s a hooty owl nearby, and tom cats roaming free. An occasional screech disturbs my reading, and from time to time a dog barks, but mostly all is as it always is, just nighttime in the woods.

My kitchen window is the door
Into another world
A world of birdsong and what’s more
A world quite deeply squirreled
Sometimes at night in deepest dark
When lit by silver moon
I hear my neighbor’s hound dog bark
He likes not that raccoon
Some distance off a tom meows
He wanders, like my verse
A sound that sets off hound dog growls
But silence can be worse
All is quiet late at night
The kitchen dark and still
The birds sit waiting for the light
To sit upon my sill
Where nuts and raisins I will spread
Just as the sky turns gray
And wakes each little sleepy head
To start another day

 

Shovel Ready

President Obama, upon taking office in 2009, spent a trillion dollars on what he called shovel ready jobs. Now, over six years later, the country is shovel ready, and the liberal Democrat designers of the approaching catastrophe lay in bed, wide awake, hearing noises they were taking some pains to identify; workplace violence, lone wolves, justifiably inflamed, white supremacists, the religion of peace, unlimited Muslim immigration, increasingly alarmed as the strange noise grew louder. In the dark, in the sudden silence, came the sound of a shovel digging into the earth, louder now, coming from the basement. Thhukk shwoof, thhukk shwoof. They closed their eyes and lay quietly, in the dark, knowing that soon the grave would be finished.

Almost finished, a low voice said
Six feet and all is well
The infidels will soon be dead
And burning hard in hell
Who would have thought, the other mused
How easy we would win
They resist not, supine, confused
And filled with doubt, chagrin
So saying, shovels lifted high
They hurried up the stair
The end of history was nigh
And all in Allah’s care

The White Male

It is all very well to look beyond the present and predict some future collapse of liberalism, but that future collapse will occur in the midst of violence. Already we see signs of white males getting pissed, and when white males stop genuflecting before the feminists and race hustlers and grab their guns, it will not be pretty for those who thought they could spit on and stomp on white males forever with assured impunity. Take down the Confederate flag? The singing and dancing crowd watching the flag being lowered will be met by grim faced white males who have other ideas.

They spit on and stomped on the gentle white male
Erecting a fraud in his place
They thought him a redneck and destined to fail
And told him so right to his face
He took it declining to venture a blow
But looked on with growing dislike
For the hustlers of race who most surely did know
That their hatred of whites filled the dike
To the overflow line and that something would give
And the white male would rise to the bait
And begin a campaign to restore how they live
And be stomped in the ground by the State
But the white male aroused is a terrible foe
When he grabs for his armor and shield
And he sharpens his sword and begins to deal woe
For the white male is never to yield

The Smartest Man In All The World

Obama is not only the smartest man in the room, especially when he’s the only one in the room, he is the smartest man in the whole wide world. I spoke to a wise Latina recently and she confirmed that smart does not begin to describe Barack Obama. She said when the Chinese hacked the personnel files of twenty or so million government workers, the president simply smiled that knowing grin.

He is so smart, she fairly gushed
When he walks in the room gets hushed
He knows the hackers are Chinese
But he just smiles, he’s so at ease
He knows what’s going on, you see
If Plan A fails it’s on to B
But he’s so clever that one knows
That everything he may propose
Works like a charm, and this time too
You’ll find the Chinese hacked a few
Small poisoned documents he placed
For them to find and be disgraced
When it emerges that it’s all
A game he played to cause the fall
Of hackers who now know that they
Are outclassed at the game they play
She smiled and left me standing there
A wise Latina without care
The head of OPM is she
Secure incompetence will be
Rewarded by the president
And by the hackers he had sent

Musical Chairs

Life is basically a game of musical chairs. When the music stops, and you find yourself without a chair, then you are out. One of the eternal verities is that when the music stops them what has the money will get yours as well, as demonstrated by the Greek banks preparing to take over their customers’ accounts in event Greece defaults on its debts. The world’s economies are closely integrated, and when one part of it collapses all feel the shock. The Chinese are trying to prevent the collapse of their stock exchange, the Eurozone is facing collapse if Greece defaults, and Obama has doubled the national debt to an unsustainable 17 or 18 trillion dollars, and if either or both the Euro and Chinese markets collapse, so will we, and you and I will not see our savings or pensions again. Theft is not theft when it is written in the rules, and you and I have nothing to say about how the rules get written.

I worked for many years to save
Enough for when I’m old
Believing that the years I gave
Would not be undersold
We’re safe insisted all the banks
Is not to fear they said
Then took my money without thanks
As I went up to bed
In total dark the dull red eyes
Crept up onto my ear
They whispered soothing, soft spoke lies
Said they were never here
I lay in bed too scared to move
As wolves licked at my face
They smiled and said as if to prove
That they would save my place
I noticed then the music stopped
I stumbled for my chair
And then the other shoe got dropped
My seat no longer there
In deepest dark I joined the crowd
And watched the market fall
The chairs are gone, I heard a shout
And there against the wall
There stood the chairs, as music played
Each chair held dull red eyes
The smiling wolves had got it all
To everyone’s surprise

The Parabola

Every society, every culture, every nation, begins and ends, its life a parabola, birth to death. Some parabolas are briefer than others, some arcs are shallower than others, but all ultimately end as they began. The parabolas of the lifespans of Carthage and Rome and the Venetian Republic can be plotted on a graph, and so can ours. The parabola of our current Western culture and dominance is incomplete, but clearly downward, for Western women have opted, individually and all unknowingly, for extinction, by taking advantage of technology to stop having babies in numbers sufficient to maintain the parabola. Demographics is destiny, and as the increasingly rapid descent of the Western parabola becomes evident to all, there will be those who rage against the fates, to no avail, for as fewer babies are born there will, in measurable time, be fewer women to deliver them, and when a low birth rate becomes unsustainable, species extinction is inevitable. We will not disappear entirely, someone else will live in what is now the West, and we will become a subset of a larger culture. A parabola is simply a visual mathematical expression, and arithmetic always wins.

The West was born along the shores
Of the great Inland Sea
Empires rose, empires fell
But all left in their lee
Our language, law and way of life
Technology and art
Some left us more than others
But each one has played a part
And so shall we leave to the world
The best we had to give
The notion of the rule of law
And a man’s right to live