The Democratic Party is a cancer, and, like cancer, the only cure is death, for them or for us. The slightly left of center Democratic Party of my youth is no more, having been captured by the hard left in 1972. The Democratic Party was the party of slavery, and was put down for several generations after the Civil War, but re-emerged as a political force in the wake of the calamity of the Great Depression. And now, after eighty years of slow drip socialism, the election of Barack Obama has changed the slow drip into a full out sprint for the cliff. There is still time, but if Obama is re-elected the United States as it was is gone, possibly forever, certainly gone for the lifetimes of our children and grandchildren, gone until the inevitable financial collapse of the socialist model and resulting anarchy. We are now two countries, two societies, the workers and the non-workers, the productive and the non-productive. The goal of the Democratic Party is the creation of a plantation class of voters subservient to and dependent upon the Federal government, whose votes will keep the Left in permanent control of the government and country. And they have succeeded. Why, in the face of the worst economic times in memory, in the face of one disaster after another, in the face of a president who bows to foreign kings, is the race even close? Why is Romney not ahead by fifteen points? In a rational world he would be, but this is no longer a rational country. The Democrats have used the Federal treasury to build the world’s largest slave plantation, and the rest of us feel the whip. I am praying for my country while I am still allowed to pray.

The overseer sits on his horse

His whip lays close to hand

He thinks the plantation he serves

Is built on rock, not sand

He knows the whip will keep in line

Those kept in bondage now

He knows the checks will keep the slaves

In thrall and they will bow

To Left wing socialists in charge

Of stealing all the gold

While others not so fortunate

Are left out in the cold

But he is wrong, this overseer

Who does as master bids

For he will be the first to hang

When all this hits the skids

President Obama and Vice-president Joe Biden discuss the Middle East and other vexing questions, though the president was not amused when Biden told Newsweek that the Taliban were now our friends.

I tell you Joe, Obama smiled

Al Qaeda’s dead are being piled

In heaps and mounds all over this fair globe

Our drones are taking out the guys

Who think they’re safe but quel surprise

We see them for there’s no where we can’t probe

But then of course there’s the stray cat

Who somehow stays alive and that

Is something we are working on right now

We’re winning, Joe, just stay the course

The world sees we’re the strongest horse

And for all this I just might take a bow

You’re right, said Biden with a grin

Benghazi was a happy win

We blamed it on some unknown little boob

And everyone who’s on our side

Lined up and truly helped us hide

The facts and helped us blame it on YouTube

That Newsweek now, Obama frowned

I tell you Joe, it left me browned

You said the Taliban were now our friends

Now how can I send in the drones

The only way I make my bones

I use those means to justify my ends

Agendas, Joe, means what’s in store

The world is watching, keeping score

They see the Middle East is coming down

I want Iran to get the bomb

I watch events with calm aplomb

And Joe, I like you much but you’re a clown

The Democrat big tent seems big on the outside, but on the inside there is only room for cronies and hustlers and mountebanks, the aggrieved, the angry and the haters, the militant and the feminist and the Luddite, the grifter and the con man. There is no room anymore for the working man. The big tent is all three ring circus now, and the clowns are in charge of the country.

Across the waving field of grain

Outlined against an azure sky

A giant tent rose strong and plain

No signs or banners raised on high

But all who saw it knew quite well

That it was refuge from the storm

A mother’s arms when ill befell

A place of comfort, snug and warm

And so perhaps it once was so

Back in the day, before the One

Filled up the tent with friends of O

Till space for workers there was none

The promises that once were made

From lips and tongue that seemed sincere

Were seen to lose their shine and fade

And so as voting time draws near

The working men who once believed

The big tent was for them as well

Are now upset and much aggrieved

And angry as the pollsters tell

The story of the coming rout

The landslide Romney has in store

As working men who’ve been shut out

Stream to the polls and cry No More!

I had a birthday recently, yesterday as a matter of fact, and the occasion caused me to reflect on how the years affected my youthful dreams.

When I was but a child my dreams were never

Without a playful laugh, and without care

I knew it all would last somehow forever

I knew my parents always would be there

My teens I spent adrift like many others

With sports and girls and dances then my life

The neighborhood good guys were all my brothers

And from my sister’s friends I’d choose a wife

My youth was filled with plans of life tomorrow

It mattered not if dreams were small or great

Like most of us our dreams lead but to sorrow

For dreams are overtaken oft by fate

My children came and filled my life with lightness

I dreamed not that their lives be filled with gold

But only that their lives be filled with brightness

And bless me with a grandchild when I’m old

My dreams have all come true and that’s a blessing

I have a wife I’ve loved since first we met

My children gave me grandkids and I’m guessing

My life’s about as good as it can get

My childhood dreams are still as bright as ever

My parents are still young and always near

The dreams we dream through life we cannot sever

They stay with us as long as we are here

Polls now show Romney taking the lead both in the popular vote and in the electoral college. Not unexpected, but welcome nonetheless. Obama’s Marxist upbringing taught him that the past must be erased, that the present was an illusion, but that the future belonged to the Marxists, and he has governed in a way to ensure the destruction of the past as well as the future. Fortunately the public has not yet reached the tipping point where enough people were embedded in the Leftist slave plantation and depended entirely upon the government for their very existence that they provided enough votes to keep the Left in power forever. Obama will not realize his dream of destroying the United States, a dream implanted in him at an early age by his Marxist mother and communist father. Our childhood dreams of growing up in the greatest country that ever was is safe.

When I was but a child my dreams were never

Without a playful laugh, and without care

I knew it all would last somehow forever

I knew my parents always would be there

My teens I spent adrift like many others

With sports and girls and dances then my life

The neighborhood good guys were all my brothers

And from my sister’s friends I’d choose a wife

My youth was filled with plans of life tomorrow

It mattered not if dreams were small or great

Like most of us our dreams lead but to sorrow

For dreams are overtaken oft by fate

And fate brought us Obama and confusion

The past became a dream that never was

The present’s nothing but a sham illusion

The future surely comes but never does

And yet I cannot help but feel dejected

My childhood gone forever in the mist

The present isn’t like I had expected

And let me tell you brothers I am p****d

Obama and his crowd must be deported

To some blue state that loves this kind of slime

We’d all been better off were they aborted

But they’ll be gone quite soon and just in time

Our childhood dreams those scumbags tried to sever

To make us slaves and beggars to the State

But now they’re gone and gone for good forever

Thank God we wakened ‘fore it was too late

The Middle East, that region peopled by the adherents of the religion of peace, is fast approaching Armageddon. Al Qaeda is now fighting Assad in Syria with sophisticated weapons supplied by the Obama administration through Saudi Arabia and Qatar, and Assad is threatening to use poison gas on the rebels and on his own people. Iran is rapidly approaching the point where it can incinerate Israel with atomic bombs, and Egypt is now, thanks to the Obama administration, in the hands of the Muslim Brotherhood, a registered terrorist organization. The Middle East is about to blow up, and Obama and the West sit idly by, content to await developments.

Ah there I see my webbing thrums

Said the spider to the fly

And in the distance sounds of drums

And fear that I know why

I sense that something is amiss

For now my web is still

And so my friend I’ll tell you this

We have some time to kill

Before the drums finish their song

At which time we will know

Just who it is will say so long

And who is first to go

For there are those who play with death

While others still deny

And so quite soon to draw a breath

Means surely you will die

I care not all for those afar

The trembling fly did say

I beg you leave the door ajar

So I can fly away

The spider’s eyes then filled with tears

She said her nature’s fixed

So kill she must despite her fears

Despite her feelings mixed

You see your most unhappy fate’s

Not your fault in the least

For Allah’s set the mournful dates

It’s just the Middle East

The Obama administration has declared war on coal, with the stated objective of saving the planet by closing down all coal fired electric generation plants. They care not that a very sizeable percentage of the American electrical grid is supplied by coal fired plants, and shutting them down will mean less electricity for the rest of us, with resulting brownouts and spiking unemployment. It doesn’t matter to the radical environmentalists in charge of energy policy under Obama, the planet comes first, even though the planet is in no danger from anyone, being big enough to take care of itself. I spoke to an ardent environmentalist named Verdi the other day, and he was quite sanguine about the prospect of no electricity. He said he didn’t like the way his neighbors despoiled the earth by consuming huge amounts of coal fired generated electricity.

I have my new electric car

And solar panels too

And geo thermal is by far

The best that you can do

My bike I’ve fixed to generate

Electric power when

The Gaia whom we venerate

Gets mad at us and then

She shuts down all the power plants

And leaves us in the dark

And so you see it takes one glance

To see that it’s a lark

To live again as we once did

With sunlight as our guide

We didn’t have a power grid

And no one ever died

Because the hospitals were closed

No operating rooms

Back then it never was supposed

There’d be electric looms

To weave the cloth to make the shirts

To wear to work the fields

The spinning wheels were run by skirts

With low production yields

And yet the folks were happier

Much closer to the soil

Although their lives were crappier

They loved the life of toil

So that is why I want to close

The coal plants and rely

On wind and solar and who knows

I’ll watch my neighbors die

Barack Obama believes he has been anointed to reign over the American people, and is contemptuous of democratic values and the Constitution of the United States. He will not easily give up power. He believes in his heart of hearts that he is to the purple born.

In ancient Tyre a mollusk gave

A dye the royals prized

A purple dye became the fave

Of those whose super sized

Ambitions bade them dress in style

In Royal Purple robes

With ermine hems and collars while

Large earrings graced their lobes

And so it is with man today

Politicos it seems

Who have but inane things to say

And yet have handsome dreams

Of purple robes and ermine cloaks

And chariots of gold

The better then to awe the folks

Who shiver in the cold

And so it is with our Hussein

The common man he loathes

He sees himself a Royal Reign

In Royal Purple clothes

After the disastrous performance by the president in the first debate, which Romney won hands down, Obama stalwarts like Chris Rock and Andrew Sullivan cried bitter tears, and wondered out loud if their champion had just lost the election. Obama thought the debate was in the bag, but Romney took the debate and ran with it. The vice-president commiserates with the president on losing Chris Rock and Andrew Sullivan.

I tell you Joe, Obama said

They’ve got me feeling blue

So many states are turning red

I don’t know what to do

When friends like Chris Rock turn on us

And say Bin Laden’s skull

May not turn out to be a plus

Is something I must mull

Mull away, Joe Biden grinned

My take is we’re ahead

It’s all in how the tale is spinned

You killed Bin Laden dead

And single handed I might add

A throwdown to the mat

Enough to make Mitt Romney sad

We’ve got this stuff down pat

Sweet Andrew though, Obama sighed

Has let his courage flee

His faith in me has simply died

As far as I can see

If friends like these we cannot trust

To stand upright and tall

Then all our dreams will turn to dust

If we lose in the Fall

I know it looks grim right ‘bout now

But Joe, we must have faith

Or as sweet Andrew would allow

With Mitt we must keep paith

Why do I have the feeling we’ve been here before? It feels like 1914 again. Events spinning out of control and none with the wit nor will to stop the coming catastrophe. Iran and Israel on a hair trigger, China threatening Japan, Turkey and Syria trading blows, the entire Middle East in turmoil. It’s like watching a black and white slide show running backwards

The RMS Titanic sank

A hundred years ago

And now in climate drear and dank

The world begins to slow

And retrograde begin the slide

To times now dim and past

In spite of our hubris and pride

The film runs backward fast

Depression, war, and now the Turks

And can you spare a dime

The slide show races through the works

Of man’s most recent climb

From barbarism on a scale

Not seen for eons gone

Atrocities beyond the pale

Attacking with the dawn

From trenches filled with rotting men

We see them being dug

Then in a flash we see again

A liner and a tug

She’s heading for the Outer Bank

The film now running slow

And there the proud Titanic sank

A mere two years ago