I am getting stomach pains. I was for Trump from day one, for all the right reasons; a Democrat victory would mean a super-liberal Supreme Court for the next three generations, the continuation of the catastrophe that is Obama and the Progressive/Marxist agenda, the further loss of liberty to unelected federal regulators and so forth. Trump has tapped into a deep well of anger and bids fair to ride that anger to the presidency, his uncontrolled outbursts excused as an emotional and temporarily delayed changeover from the slugfest of the primaries. But his impulsive outbursts have not stopped, witness the attack on a judge hearing the politically motivated lawsuit against Trump University as not being able to be fair because he is Mexican, when he was born in Indiana to American citizens. Of course it quickly came out that the judge in question had ties to La Raza, the violent anti-American Hispanic organization that waves Mexican flags and burns American flags, and whose agenda is to return the American southwestern States to Mexico, but Trump didn’t say that, and so the liberal firestorm. Yes, `the lawsuit was frivolous and politically motivated, yes the plaintiff withdrew and ordinarily that would have been the end of the lawsuit, but the judge, against all custom, ruled the case be continued, and yes, Trump has a right to be angry, but there is a far larger issue than a frivolous lawsuit against Trump University, and Trump does not seem to be able to see that. Trump does not back down and continues to do what he does,, even when friends like Gingrich tell him not to say things like that, that continuing to do so could cost him the election and the loss forever of the country to the Marxist/Progressives. Trump is who he is, and my stomach pains tell me he is off the rails, and if he doesn’t get back on the rails very quickly the election is lost, and he will have personally seen to it that the country and a very winnable election is lost and gone forever.

Is it too soon to feel despair?
It’s only June my soul to bare
My country’s in for harsh travails
If Trump’s campaign is off the rails
It’s Trump or no one at this point
There’s no one else we can anoint
And changing horses in mid-stream
Is but Bill Kristol’s nightly dream
We can but pray that Trump decides
That sense, decorum be his guides
And concentrate on what is real
The loss of jobs is what folks feel
Incompetence is what folks see
From those in charge who seem to be
Intent on bringing ruin down
On every city, every town
Just stick with these and Trump prevails
For we’re already off the rails
And if the Dems win it is plain
That we will all have stomach pain

Some plan their lives from an early age, foreseeing every twist and turn in a chaotic life, more often than not arriving in a place totally unsuited to his or her talents, though perfectly suited to ambition. Such a one is Hillary Clinton, who identified early on the man who would waft her to the heights on his flowing coattails. Every position she gained has been unearned. A United States Senator and then Secretary of State of the United States, with her only qualification being the wife of Bill Clinton. And now she attempts to parlay her unearned rise to the heights by winning the most glistening prize of all, the presidency of the United States, notwithstanding she is entirely unqualified to be president of anything more demanding than that of a small town women’s club. We live in an age where accomplishment counts for nothing and kardashianism counts for all.

She gained the heights that were by rights
Earned fairly by her betters
But she had gained what she attained
By casting off the fetters
That bounded those for whom the throes
Of life-long work had tethered
And with the guy who caught her eye
Her nest was fully feathered
She rose to where the very air
Was thin as her credentials
She takes much pride in her slick ride
Though cursed with low potentials
She loves and dotes on those whose votes
Come from the Dem plantations
Where bondage chains cement the gains
Brought forth by incantations
By salesman Bill who sells old Hill
To all the hicks who’ll listen
That old and fat does not mean that
When rubbed she does not glisten

The French have a saying, Vive le difference, but the United States today believes in Vive le no difference. Responding to a survey, an overwhelming majority of American college students said there was no difference between a man and a woman. Perhaps they were thinking in a legal sense, but I think not. The Left’s long march through the institutions, including the schools and universities, has resulted in a generation of the young and very young being brainwashed by leftist teachers and professors into believing that true is false, that the world would be a better place without the evil United States and without men, and in particular without those evil white men. People believe for the rest of their lives what they have been told in school, and the current Millennial generation is lost forever. The problem is they will be the majority of the voters in short order, and the United States as it has been known and understood for almost two hundred and fifty years will be no more.

There is no difference they can see
Between a woman and a guy
The fact that one stands up to pee
Makes little difference in their eye
The world is fine with all alike
What’s truth is false, what’s true is choice
They teach this to each tiny tyke
And tell them speak in alto voice
Now that the USA is done
With genderlessness now in place
And white men never see the sun
The world at peace except the race
By third world men to grab their stakes
And claim the genderless at large
From Mexico to the Great Lakes
Utopia with them in charge

Angela Merkel, the German Chancellor, has consistently disregarded the outspoken wishes of her countrymen that unlimited Muslim immigration be halted, and has single handedly held open the gates of Germany to the Muslim barbarians, even though she must know that unlimited immigration of a people whose beliefs and way of life are entirely devoted to the destruction of Germany and the West. She has, in her perverse sense of liberalism, put a circle of rope around her native land and fellow Germans.

Angela Merkel
Drew a circle
And said to all, come in
The Muslims laugh
Though not the staff
Of Bundeswehr, Berlin
The circle fills
With jihad shills
Who come with guns and knives
Who smile and then
Kill young blond men
And take young German wives
The language spoke
By these new folk
Is Arabic quite soon
The circles close
Thus leaving those
Once Deutsch in darkened noon

My beloved is mine, and I am his. – Song of Solomon verse 2:16

The Left has temporarily destroyed the cultural, legal and moral foundations of what was once the United States, and though the destruction is but temporary, when the spasm passes the country will not be as it was before. The country will have been changed, perhaps beyond recognition, the cultural, legal and moral foundations different than before the rise of the Left. And so, in the event the future holds that marriage is no longer sacred, I write, for posterity, what may be the last few lines of verse in honor of the sacred marriage of one man and one woman.

As so the white winged dove
Reflects the bride’s sweet beauty
So too does one man’s love
Commend them to God’s duty
To love each other fair
To hold close and endeavor
To honor and to care
From this day on, forever
Today the words so sweet
To anyone e’er spoken
So short yet so complete
God’s promises unbroken
A husband and a wife
The church bells gaily ringing
Begins a newborn life
That God’s sweet love is bringing

The Intercollegiate Studies Institute grades universities that are not recommended for conservative students with a red or yellow symbol. Most are Ivies, but not all. Nothing wrong with this, it’s always good to be forewarned. What is bad is that it demonstrates the deplorable state to which our one time elite universities have sunk, a state brought about by their own harmful actions, actions they still believe necessary to redress imbalances and outright societal wrongs against minorities. I speak of affirmative action in admissions, where students who do not meet the entrance requirements of these once elite academic universities are admitted in order to fulfill a racial quota. Such admissions policies have been predicted to have baleful, even catastrophic results, but those predictions not only went unheeded but were dismissed as racist ravings. Yet, here we are, the predictions come true, as we see universities throughout the country dissolve into centers of black rage, entitlement and demands that the university fix the racist culture that has the grades of black students always at the bottom. Neither the administrations nor the black students see that admitting only qualified black students will raise the black grade point averages.

You cannot blame the inner city kid
For public schools where education lags
Behind the need to keep his brain well hid
For fear that classmates label him a fag
For schools where teachers know to those in class
Their lives mean nothing to the world or them
They’ll join their buddies in the jobless mass
And take the handout from the local Dem
The bright kids in these schools don’t have a chance
Their grades and SATs are far below
What a good education would enhance
But nonetheless to elite schools they go
To find themselves with others left behind
Surrounded by the kids from better schools
And fairly soon, frustrated, they will find
That they are looked upon as slow brained tools
Of politicians who thought doing good
Was the first goal of present, future, past
And thought by dumbing down the left back would
Rise up if but the net were wider cast

I was born in the opening year of the Hoover administration, on a Sunday Halloween morning, just days after the Black Friday stock market crash. Like any newborn, I had no notion that the stock market crash was a stake in the heart of the country, a stake that would lead to the Great Depression and to FDR and a lurch to the left, and a big government of unelected bureaucrats that over the years morphed into a bureaucratic ruling class that oversaw every facet of the lives of a once free people. And now, in my age, I think upon an America that was and is no more.

While growing up I heard the stories told
Of how things were back in the days of old
Of trolleys clacking over grass filled land
To parks where crowds heard John P. Sousa’s band
The freedom to be what may be your dream
The summer Sundays cheering for your team
You knew your country’s greater than was Rome
For men like young Abe Lincoln called it home
You never locked your doors asleep at night
And work began for all at dawn’s first light
I heard my grampop talk of his first car
And how when airplanes came we’d come so far
The day is gone when free speech was the rule
Now mamas fear to send their kids to school
Boys used to carry baseball bats around
Now kids have guns to put kids in the ground
I lived to see the country scale the heights
Of greatness where we always won our fights
And led the world in science and in art
Where all who had the talent played a part
Skyscrapers cast their shadow far and wide
But now those city shadows are to hide
The wretched and the thugs who live to prey
On those unlucky souls who fall their way
I’m glad I lived to see us to the moon
But sad to see the country die so soon

Time is an illusion. Life is a cyclical event that begins and ends with youth.

The grass is cool on moon-dark summer nights
The backyard tree is black against the sky
The house asleep with but a few dim lights
And thoughts and dreams turn back to days gone by
To younger days when stars were still in reach
And star-filled dreams were easy to believe
The ten year old has much that he could teach
His older self if truth he’d but receive
The distant stars are near if you but find
The ten year old who once was lonely you
For travel to the stars takes but the mind
To take you there if you were only you
For time is but the passage of the dreams
The stars lent to that ten year old back then
That drifted with you down life’s winding streams
And now at age you dream of stars again

Slavery was a Southern phenomenon, and Southern slave owners were Democrats. The Republican Party was founded for the express purpose of ending slavery, and it did, at the cost of 320,000 dead young white men. Freed slaves who came north married and raised families, and were, in time, working class people like most of their neighbors. In seventy years, from 1865 to 1935, one lifespan, the descendants of those Republican voting freed slaves began to realign themselves with their former owners, the Democrats, and willingly and enthusiastically returned to the Democrat slave plantation, again dependent on their Democrat owners for their very existence. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?

The Guinea coast, the barracoons
The misery, the stink
The slaver’s ship, laid down like spoons
The manacle, iron link
The passage west, unending night
The dark and foul filled hold
No room to move, no end in sight
The dead lay still and cold
The auction block, the bidders’ jokes
Hosed down, the captives wait
Surrounded by the laughing folks
Determining their fate
And then one day a distant drum
To shouts of Jubilee
They saw the Union soldiers come
And Lordy they were free
But that was then and this is now
In geologic blink
Descendants of those slaves allow
The manacle and link

History repeats itself, but never in the same way. Events today seem likely to result, ultimately, in one regional power gathering in all the artificial countries cobbled together after WW1 by the British and French, and that regional power will be Iran or Turkey, and since it all was once a part of the Ottoman Empire, who made the fatal mistake of being on the wrong side in WW1, it is likely that at some point in the not too distant future the world will see a rebirth of the Ottoman Empire. But will we again see Ottoman galleys set out from the Golden Horn to ravage the coasts of Greece and Italy in search of booty and slaves? Possibly not. As stated above, history repeats but never in the same way.

Wild horsemen came from out the East
Faith Muslim, Mongol born
And settled near the Christian beast
Hard by the Golden Horn
Constantinople, stout stone walls
A thousand years it stood
Until bombards and great stone balls
Demolished them for good
The Eastern Empire of Rome
Had seen its sorrowed day
The place Justinian called home
Was gone and gone to stay
An empire rose in its wake
Atlantic to the Horn
The Med was now a Muslim lake
With Europe red and torn
Yet still the dream the Turk holds fast
Empire softly calls
To see again the storied past
From Constantinople’s walls