Monthly Archives: January 2011

Band Of Brothers

Major Dick Winters, Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, US Army, the central character of Stephen Ambrose’s Band of Brothers, died recently at age 92. And so they leave us, the WW2 fighters, the finest generation, at the alarming rate of 10,000 a day, and soon there will be no more of them. But Easy Company was not the only band of brothers in WW2. The entire country shared in the struggle, the country was of one mind, one spirit. We are not of one mind, one spirit now. Rancid partisanship divides us, the Left perfectly willing to lose a war for political gain. Will we ever again be a band of brothers?

 

 

We were brothers once

But are no more

Perhaps it takes

Another war

A war to death

For us to be

One again

And proud and free

Divided now

The left and right

As far apart

As day and night

Fingers point

And daggers fly

The truth is dead

Killed by the lie

The noble band

Of men now gone

Once ushered in

A noble dawn

A dawn that pols

And newsmen too

Debased and took

Away from you

The brother band

Will soon be gone

Beneath the flags

Upon the lawn

Gone to God

To their reward

For liberty

They drew the sword

 

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Slime Dogs

A defeated Pennsylvania congressman, Paul Jankorski, who now calls for retribution against conservative talk radio and Sarah Palin for inciting the Tucson killer, himself called for the shooting of the Republican candidate for governor of Florida. When asked about it, Jankorski airily dismissed it, saying anyone who took his inflammatory words seriously was a nutcase. And so it goes. If you’re a liberal Democrat you can say and do whatever you want, however vicious, however untrue, but if you are a conservative Republican, every word you utter is an incitement to violence and must be curbed, by force if necessary.

 

 

You know them by the slime they leave

Behind them as they move

They state as fact the lie they know

They’ll never have to prove

Like Franks and Ostrogoths before

Where common language held

Once separated by their tongue

Could never be re-weld

So too the politics of hate

Has led to our divide

The common tongue has disappeared

And each must choose his side

The Left has reached the farthest low

The slime has reached its high

And to the point that we might say

“Tis best to say goodbye

 

My paperback and Kindle novels on Amazon may be found HERE 

 

 

The Dark Of The Moon

Thirty-five years ago a Philadelphia judge spent her life changing the way we treat the mentally incompetent and the criminally insane, and succeeded. The mental institutions were emptied, the patients left to themselves, free to live in subway concourses or in a box on the street. Such is compassionate liberalism. Involuntary institutionalization was set aside, leaving society helpless in the face of those who live their lives in the dark of the moon.

 

 

In the dark of the moon

In the depths of the soul

Comes the cry of the loon

And the silent bell toll

Calling forth the red gaze

From the unfocused eyes

To the scene through the haze

And the stalk of the prize

Trust the bullets that shine

Love the Glock in your hand

There she is, she is mine

Let my hatred be fanned

Let my aim be sublime

Let my weapon be true

It is now, it is time

She will get what is due

Pull the trigger right now

See her jump as she’s hit

I am in her sight now

And she knows this is it

Oh the joy of it all

She’ll be gone very soon

Yes the networks will call

In the dark of the moon

 

My novels on Amazon, paperback and Kindle, can be found HERE 

 

 

 

Airships

Count von Zeppelin flies again. The Department of Defense is sending drones to Afghanistan that can take pictures of an area half the size of Manhattan.  Airships that stay aloft for weeks, taking full color panoramic 3D pictures of vast expanses of trackless waste, all without human intervention.  Or maybe it’s more Jules Verne than Count von Zeppelin.  Or maybe James Thurber and his immortal Walter Mitty, captaining the giant airship in his daydreaming imagination.

 

 

In the Thirties we had Thurber

Not to mention Edna Thurber

Walter Mitty had his dreams but don’t we all

Mitty’s daydreams were fantastic

Always fanciful, elastic

Flying zeppelins to foreign ports of call

Now we don’t need Walter Mitty

We can photograph a city

Seeing cars collide and people come and go

Watching vendors on the corners

Tracking down illegal forners

Just downloading it would make a TV show

So no w thanks to old James Thurber

We can spy upon our nerber

And we don’t need goofy guys like Walter Mitty

We’ve got airships now we’re riding

Leaving us no place for hiding

When they turn on us they’re showing us no pity

Yes right now I know they’re after

If you please just hold the laughter

Guys in robes and turbans hiding in the bush

But with cameras this pervasive

The Feds will be more invasive

Is Obama testing in the Hindu Kush?

Is the TSA on order

To fly Gorgon on the border

Keeping track of where you are and where you’ve been?

Is a fence the next big issue

‘Round each city lest they miss you

Fences not to keep them out but keep you in

 

My novels on Amazon, paperback and Kindle, can be found HERE

 

  

Get Out Of Our Hair

The Obama administration cannot help itself, it cannot keep its hands off our lives. They tell us what to feed our kids, they tell us carbon, the very building block of life on earth is deadly harmful and we should stop exhaling CO2, they pat down buxom women and old men at airports while letting bearded young Arab males pass through screening without hindrance, they punish those who disagree. But that is the modus operandi of the Left. They are our betters and they will tell us what to do and what to think and insist we thank them for looking after us, for they know better than us because they are the Left, and if you are of the Left, then by definition you are better than those who are not of the Left.  

 

 

Some things we know are proper

Some necessary, too

Some things are both, but this we know

Sometimes it isn’t true

The government, says Holder

Is here to help us all

But helper or as scolder?

I’ll let you make the call

The Left would dip their fingers

Into our very souls

And tell us what our kids can put

Into their breakfast bowls

They warn us not to breathe and fill

The air with CO2

They know what’s good for us and shove it

Up the old kazoo

They say they do it for our good

They say it’s being fair

I say just leave us all alone

And get out of our hair

 

My novels on Amazon, paperback and Kindle, can be found HERE

 

 

Moloch

The Left always eats its young. Mao killed off the Red Guards when they were no longer useful to him and he perceived them to be a potential danger. The current European Left is using the young anarchists in Britain, Greece, Spain and elsewhere to cause panic and disruption with bombings, for the Left cannot accept the fact that the Leftist nostrums have failed, as they have always failed, and that more discipline is necessary to protect and advance the dream of Socialism with a capital S. At some point European Leftist governments will realize that intimidation has not worked, or that it has worked and succeeded in keeping them in power. Either way, the young anarchists, the bomb throwers, will no longer be useful, and they will be given up. But at least, in civilized Europe, they will not be shot. At least they won’t be shot if the intimidation fails; if it succeeds in keeping the Left in power, and in increasing that power, then the young anarchists will have done their job, and will be considered dangerous to the powers they put in place, and if that power is authoritarian, as with Hitler or Mussolini or any number of other Leftist despots, in that case they will be shot.

 

 

Thus Moloch spake, with tear-dimmed eyes

My children, sing your fond goodbyes

For come to you this last surprise

Your work is truly done

I cannot speak without a tear

For long have I held you quite near

But now it is goodbye, I fear

We thank you, every one

Your deaths will show your pride and grace

And knowing that in history’s place

The walls of time will hold your face

And now, here is the gun

Goodbye dear friends, I love you so

It pains me that it’s time to go

A greater good has laid you low

Farewell, and it’s been fun

 

My novels on Amazon can be found HERE

 

 

 

Assange

Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, who attracted little attention until he stumbled on the anti-American line so popular with the global Left, is now under house arrest in Britain, holing up in the mansion of a leftist friend, the sort of friends Assange is at pains now to disavow, and they him, for his days of usefulness to the Left are drawing to a close. His Swedish paramour, a lefty who offered him her apartment and her bed, which he accepted, and who is now charging him with rape, under the leftist reasoning that anything a Lefty woman says is rape is by definition rape, even if she not only consented to the sex but initiated it. And so Assange finds himself on the outside looking in, his sometime Lefty friends no longer caring for him as much as they once did.   

 

 

Sverige’s mostly cold and dreary

Drinkers’ eyes bright red and bleary

Women’s  dreams both sharp and eerie

Baltic winter blues

Into this place Assange did wander

A woman who was more than fonder

Now leaves him with so much to ponder

Now with much to lose

Found his anti-Yank work paid more

Found his anti-Yank work made more

Friends and women who now laid more

Flowers on his shoes

Is there now a further story

Is there more to Assange’s glory

Where is now his Swedish houri

Now that he’s old news

 

My novels on Amazon can be found HERE

 

 

 

Swat Team

The Defense Department is working on insects implanted with sensors to infiltrate and report on people the Department feels are a threat to the United States. The computerized insects, called cyborgs, can get into places no human could get into, and could be reporting back to the Department while in plain sight of the targets. But what if the targets are wise to the spying flies, or flying spies? Who do you call in if you suspect that fly on the wall is a cyborg? The Swat Team.

 

 

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly

She swallowed a fly, they don’t know why

She swallowed the fly ‘cause she’s a spy

And working for old Johnny Reb

They caught her and brought forth to lay down beside her

A counter-intelligence cyborgean spider

Who snickered and laughed as she crawled down inside her

The fly would soon be in her web

Much to their surprise the smart spider then failed

To capture the fly for the woman exhaled

And the fly fled the scene and his friends he regaled

With the story of how he escaped

There’s no happy end to this story of ours

For the Swat team was there within minutes not hours

The fly’s body returned to the government powers

To be buried in casket flag draped

 

 

The World Turned Upside Down

The Parliament of Oliver Cromwell had declared Christmas to be too solemn an event for festivity and merriment, and outlawed all celebrations. Groups of people opposed to the new law handed out broadsides with words of protest, demanding they be given their Christmas back. The words were put to music, and the song, The World Turned Upside Down, has been handed down the generations, and was, as legend has it, played by the British band when Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown. The original song began with the line, “If buttercups buzzed after bees,” and went on to describe a series of upside down events, ending with the line, “Then all the world would be upside down.” That is where we now are – the world is upside down. What was wrong in the past is now right, what was immoral in the past is now moral, what was black is now white, and what was white is now black.

 

 

If buttercups buzzed after bees

And Christians not look at the skies

If pederasts do as they please

And truth is now said to be lies

If treachery now is the norm

And killing of babes is all right

If hate speech is now the new form

And dawn does not follow the night

If people have nothing to say

About what goes on in their town

Then that is where we are today

And the world is again upside down

 

 My novels on Amazon can be found HERE

 

 

Pancho Villa

The Mexican drug wars are spilling over into the United States, and calls for action are heard from those who believe they have nothing to do with the Mexican cartels. They call for the US Army to go into Mexico and clean up the murderous drug cartels, the way General John J. (Blackjack) Pershing went into Mexico after the bandit Pancho Villa in 1916. But there would be no drug wars if there were no drug takers and drug buyers, all of them here in the United States. If the US Army is to go anywhere, it should go after the affluent whites who smoke the dope and cause the murders.

 

 

When Blackjack went for Pancho Villa

Pancho smiled and said I’ll see ya

Things were quiet for a while

That is until drugs came in style

A thirties song called Reefer Madness

Showed the side of jazz time badness

Who smoked the dope? A tiny fraction

Jazz men mostly, in the action

The sixties came, that’s when it started

Rebellious kids and morals parted

A generation raised on hype

And dope gave rise to a new type

Of young, successful white suburban

Men and women who went urban

For their hash and coke of course

And once they climbed upon that horse

Their craving for the high increased

And brought about the greater beast

Cartels who murdered, raped and slew

To bring the horse right home to you

The fatted, coddled prep schooled whites

Who thought themselves the golden knights

And drew the lines, not in the sand

But lines in powder, while the band

Played dirges that they could not hear

While scything noises crept quite near

Oh yes the gangsters murder law

To feed the hungry white man’s maw

America knows who’s to blame

We know them all, know who to name

If Pershing were alive today

We know quite well what he would say

He’d say that Villa’s not the threat

He’d say the people we should get

And put in jail until they rot

The buyers of the coke and pot

 

My novels on Amazon can be found HERE