The Nile existed before time
And flowed unvexed to inland sea
Through empty lands at once sublime
But knowing what would one day be
The flowing waters saw the rise
Of temple builders on its shores
Of Pharaoh kings who ruled the skies
And Caesars settling old scores
Napoleon would come to grief
From Nelson’s guns at Aboukir
She’s seen it all without relief
Elation, joy and troubled fear
The flow of time she understands
A thousand years is but a day
She watched hard rocks become fine sands
And cares not what the gods may say

In the beginning there was nothing
Though the nothing wasn’t there
So there could be no beginning
Without someone on the stair
A someone who stepped lightly
As he rose with weary tread
With his fingers brushed the handrail
As he went upstairs to bed
Where he dreamed of streaming starlight
As the galaxies were formed
And his hand set them in motion
As the cold of space was warmed
As he dreamed a thought came to him
Many worlds would come to life
Though he knew that his new creatures
Would be born to war and strife
It was there the dream had ended
In the morning he awoke
And his house was filled with starlight
As the dawn upon him broke
Through his window he saw blossoms
Moving gently with the breeze
In a bright and verdant pasture
Stretching to the distant trees
He turned and on the landing
He thought of all the cares
His dream had set in motion
Then he started down the stairs

I was born in the first year of the Herbert Hoover administration, and thus have witnessed the imperceptible slide of my country and its people from the comfort of my easy chair. The perception of the Great Depression by a small boy has no bearing on the reality of the Depression, but by the end of World War 2 my view of the country and its people was colored by the perception of infinite might and promise. Instead, starting in the 1960s, I witnessed a slow dissolve into identity politics and the collapse of the Democratic Party into the party of the Radical Left with the accession into power of Senator George McGovern, who was the floor leader in 1948 of the Democratic convention presidential candidate Henry Wallace, a Stalinist fellow traveler. In 1972 McGovern was the Democratic Party nominee for president, and even though he was crushed by Nixon in the 1972 election, the country had reached a hinge point. The Democratic Party was now completely captured by the Hard Left with the abandonment of the Southern Democrats to the Republicans, leaving no conservative voices at all in the Democratic Party. And that is where we are today. In my lifetime we have gone, imperceptible, from a democratic republic to a democratic peoples’ republic, where the Left pursues the goal of permanent and absolute power. I am inclined to believe I will live to see a time when the Constitution will be amended to allow only the Democratic Party to rule, and I will no doubt be forced to tip my hat every morning to my local neighborhood commissar.

Perception is reality
Reality perception
We live in times of smiley talk
But all is cold deception
The president will try his best
To change our stark condition
But Trump is but a small speed bump
On the dark road to perdition

In total dark the dull red eyes
Crept up my arm and in my ear
They whispered soothing, soft spoke lies
Then told me they were never here
I lay in bed too scared to move
As tiny wolves licked at my toes
They smiled and said as if to prove
That all was well, that’s how it goes
My telephone will ring at night
I hear the breathing soft and still
The silent voices give me fright
I rise and then against my will
I call the tiny wolves to say
That I will do what they may please
A dulcet tone says not today
So far you’ve only had the tease

The tyrant’s crown so lightly lies
Upon smooth brow and smiling eyes
It’s gleaming gold in sunlight glows
In beauty measured by the rose
And yet doth he who wears the crown
Record the days that wind him down
Until the time of one last breath
When gold will not forbid him death

Emails between FBI agent Peter Strzok, head of counterintelligence, and his Department of Justice girlfriend, Lisa Page, revealed that the two of them were presenting talking points for FBI Director James Comey’s meeting with President Obama to keep him up to date on what the FBI and the Justice Department were doing to rig the election for Hillary Clinton. One may assume Obama was also involved in the FBI/DOJ insurance policy in the event of Donald Trump winning the election, which turned out to be using a fake dossier to obtain a FISA court ruling that allowed them to spy on the president elect, and then after the inauguration, to spy on the president of the United States in the hopes of finding something that would help them remove him from office. It is not yet clear that Obama, while president, was the guiding hand in all this, but in today’s climate he is likely guilty until proven innocent, or even more likely, guilty until proven guilty. It is also unclear that Attorney General Jeff Sessions has any interest in any of this, but we do because we’re all deplorable and ignorant hillbillies. I do not have a cell phone that sends my every movement and text or voice message to Google and the NSA, movements that consist primarily of moving from the couch to the kitchen table, but many others do, and are very well aware that everything they say, write and do is recorded somewhere. This is what is so strange about the tens of thousands of emails involved in the Clinton investigation and the coming investigation of the FBI and DOJ, where, in both cases, actual crimes were committed and not a few people are going to jail when it is all over. I for one am happy I’m just an ignorant and deplorable hillbilly from Philadelphia, home of the Super Bowl winner.

They called us all deplorable
Condition most incurable
But even not adorable
In time we’ll have our say
We never tried to fix a race
By lying right in FISA’s face
A crime you say, not just disgrace?
They’ll find crime doesn’t pay
A Special Counsel’s what we need
And need one with the utmost speed
And have him draw a special bead
On Barack’s DOJ
Who wanted Clinton not to lose
And so they knew they had to choose
Which crime they would decide to use
To let her win the day
Two counsels then are not enough
To cover all the naked stuff
The FBI can sure act tough
Pretending to obey
The laws that never, it appears
Applies to Clintons and their peers
Not for them are hot courtroom tears
They breed rot and decay
And yet the guillotine draws nigh
For DOJ and FBI
They’ll get strung up and strung up high
The emails show the way
And Hillary will be there too
As juries of twelve good and true
Bring down the curtain on this crew
And end this rotten play

Reality does not exist
And neither, friend, does time
With both seen through illusion’s mist
Reality a mime
A thousand years, a blink of eye
Is all the same in dreams
In deepest night, in darkest sky
The stars but flickering gleams
We walk through life, our path defined
Set in our bidden ways
Not knowing that the path is lined
With sudden yesterdays

My friend Og sat in front of his cave, sighing that things were just too darned complex. He looked at me and said:

It’s just all this complexity
Compounded by perplexity
And I confess that I don’t have a clue
The sun comes up too early
And my neighbor’s getting surly
And to top it all my woman’s overdue
As a family we were happy
And though most times things were crappy
We at least had food to eat and clothes to wear
But our families got together
And became a clan to weather
All the storms and strife we could no longer bear
After that we went to tribal
And although that made us liable
To the strains that growing large would put us through
For a time things were just great and
We became a city state and
Did I say my woman says she’s overdue
There was never a vacation
We became a big time nation
And we conquered those around us to survive
And of course you know the story
It was Empire and glory
It was conquer or we’d cease to be alive
When collapse came it came quickly
And my woman got quite prickly
I was Emperor of all that was in view
But now here I sit in sorrow
Broke, in debt, with no tomorrow
And my woman, friend, is three weeks overdue

Senior officials of the Justice Department and the FBI tried to prevent the Republican candidate for president from being elected, and when that failed they tried to overturn the election results and remove him from office. Who will guard the guardians?

If this be crime, who doth arrest
If treason, who will then attest
If not the law, then I ask who
We citizens can now turn to
To guarantee our sacred right
To safely sleep abed each night
Content that law is still supreme
And not a dashed and blackened dream
The Left reveals itself again
As criminal or worse, but then
We’ve all believed, we’ve always known
That history has always shown
That power is the holy grail
Of people who should be in jail

Chivalry is dead, the embattled man cried
Leaning heavy against his stout horse
Dead and buried beneath the sharp incoming tide
Dead beneath the foul uncaring gorse!
He paused to take breath then resumed his sad tale
Edged weapons are things of the past
A man is now had for a two penny sale
And good chaps like I cannot last
I’ve killed men in battle but never in spite
‘Twas always but simply our way
To fight true and fair is the code of the knight
To think I should see such a day
As seen on this ground, a changed thing to amaze
And good men lay dead where they stand
As unseen projectiles are now the new craze
With men like I swept from the land
He sobbed in despair as he saw in his pain
A future where noblemen died
At the hands of the rabble both dirty and plain
Then he hefted his sword and he sighed
‘Tis over, my friend, in a world that’s gone daft
Unpleasant the world in plain truth
While I who spent years in perfecting my craft
Am slain by a peasant uncouth