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

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

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

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

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

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

The Phoenicians built the first ships capable of sailing the open water of the Mediterranean, and purpose built warships were not far behind. Carthage and Rome contested for dominance of the western Mediterranean, and a thousand years later Venice controlled the trade routes to the Eastern world through naval dominance of the Adriatic. Control of the undersea littoral of the South China Sea is but the latest chapter in the ongoing saga, for who controls the sea controls the world.

Sharp beaked, low slung, lateen rigged
The galley ruled the waves
Purpose built for stealth and speed
And oared by bench chained slaves
But in the northern coastal states
Swift race-built ships took flight
Galleons of sturdy oak
Square rigged and built to fight
Then iron and steel, coal fired steam
To hide one must submerge
To blindly creep close into shore
Where shipping hugged the verge
And so full circle we have come
At depth no longer bound
Purpose built for stealth and speed
The galley’s past rewound

My avatar here is a Cardinal, and that is what I secretly long to be. Not a red hat Bishop of Rome Cardinal, not a left handed power hitting St Louis Cardinal, but a real life Northern Cardinal, Cardinalis cardinalis. Transgender is old hat, trans-species is the way to go.

Oppressed I am because I’m blond
A blue eyed blond to boot
And so I’ve waved my magic wand
And made the matter moot
A redbird now I am at peace
Just sitting in a tree
And sneering at the silly geese
Who want to be like me
I sit and watch the growing scene
Where all hate what they’ve been
Where blacks are whites and whites are keen
To melanize their skin
I watch my neighbor Jack walk by
He minces now in heels
I whistle sharply, catch his eye
And ask him how he feels
And so it is and so it goes
I’ve got a redbird girl
A beauty yes from head to toes
A sweet trans-spiecied squirrel

The Greek people have voted overwhelming to reject the European Union offer of a debt bailout based on Greek austerity. The leftist Greeks, having lived off someone else’s money for so long, saw no reason why they should give up their lavish pensions and no-work bureaucratic jobs and retirement at age 50 at full pay just because they are bankrupt and cannot pay their bills. So they voted no and the entire sham edifice of the socialist European Union is shaking as Stock markets throughout the world shudder in anticipation of financial catastrophe.

Policies so maladroit
Might as well be malDetroit
The whole Euro idea was a sham
What to tell the wife and kids
When someone has Greeced the skids
And no one there seems like to give a damn
At first roses lined the way
No one really had to pay
Except of course the Germans so who cares
Bad times told of coming woes
And Greeks shrugged a so it goes
They’d heard too many dire financial scares
On the carousel content
Brussels even paid their rent
But now the wine has left the fountains dry
Some Greeks worked but most just played
No one seemed to be afraid
As debt piled up and grew to mountains high
Come a cropper, no more stash
Down the hopper German cash
And it’s back to barter ‘cause the cupboard’s bare
The Greeks found that Brussels lied
And the roses have now died
As the poor trudge down the road from Brussels Fair

It saddens me to know that I am a minority in my own country, that I am of the remaining few who know what it is we celebrate on the Fourth of July. The Left has succeeded in erasing the history of the United States by the simple process of gaining control of the educational system. Public school kids are not taught the history of the United States any longer, and if you are not told in school about the Declaration of Independence or the Revolution or the Civil War or the great waves of European immigrants who came here for freedom and opportunity, then those things never existed. They are told, however, that the United States committed genocide against the indigenous inhabitants of a land we stole from them, that the Founding Fathers were slave owners and the greatest evil in the world is an unfettered United States. Not that it matters very much, for in measurable time the history of the United States, thanks to the Democratic Party, will be written in Spanish.

When I walk out my kitchen door
And smell the cool, clean earth
And hear the breeze rustle the trees
I know our Country’s birth
Was like a shining light from God
To others locked in chains
Who came here for a better life
And filled the fertile plains
With farms and kids and stalwart men
Who made the Country great
We welcomed those who knocked upon
The shining freedom gate
But now I look upon my home
My Country, in despair
And see the Founders would today
Have nothing to declare