Category Archives: Verse

Enter Stage Left

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The world is but a stage, and we are all either players or spectators in the drama. Of the players, President Obama is the most electric, bestriding the stage and world in giant’s boots, smiting foes and soothing fevered brows with a calming word. What’s that you say, the Emperor has no giant’s boots, in fact the Emperor has no clothes at all? 

 

 

Yes all the world is but a stage

At least so said the Bard

And Showtime now is all the rage

And O is on the card

Embracing all with limelit smile

He strides in from stage left

The utter coolness of his style

Hides fact he has no heft

He mouths the words that others write

By now we know the score

We’re getting close to closing night

We’ve less than two years more

 

You say you love the weird, the fantastical, the romantic? Then you need to read CHRYSALIS. The love scenes with the medusa are worth the price of admission alone. 

 

 

Bug-eyed Monsters

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The United States now has the capability of flying over hostile or friendly territory and cause all signals to vanish, all screens to go dark, no facebook, no twitter, no television, no radio, replaced with whatever message the government wants you to see and hear. That used to be science fiction. No longer. We trust our government to do that only to our enemies and not to do that to us. Don’t we? 

 

 

Buggy eyed monsters and bare bosomed dames

The covers of pulp mags of yore

Screamed loudly as writers of recognized names

Caused space ships to come to our shore

Advanced as they were o’er the likes of us then

They beamed out their message en clair

And sent us their likeness so very like men

Then landed and walked down the stair

Onto the lawn of the White House no less

To bring peace and health to us all

They promised that all of mankind they would bless

And gathered us onto the Mall

Now who would’ve thought that that day it would come

When space ships would overhead fly

And make all the facebooks and twitters go dumb

While spewing the government lie

 

 Check out my latest novel CHRYSALIS, on Amazon now.

 

 

Just Like Us

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We are constantly told that Islam is not the problem, that Arabs are just like us, with hotheads among them just like us, and that sensible, moderate Arabs are opposed to the extremism of their less moderate brothers. I agree with this. Arabs and Muslims are just like us. Consider:

 

 

Of course the Arab’s just like us

A tiny minus, tiny plus

But put us all on the same bus

And they are just like us

Like them we behead on YouTube

And burn down buildings at “Hey Rube!”

And stone a girl for showing boob

Yes they are just like us

Like us they stride the world of art

In science they’re a class apart

When eating goat they seldom fart

Yes they are just like us

We thank them for the aeroplane

And wondrous things like Novocain

All gifts of Arabs for no gain

Yes they are just like us

We’ve much to learn from MiddleEast

Civility is not the least

They look upon us as a beast

Yes they are just like us

 

 Check out my new novel CHRYSALIS on Amazon

 

 

Waltradamus: The Middle East

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Chaos rules the Middle East. Protests rise in anger to topple governments, while other governments topple protesters. The world of oil is aflame, and stark depression looms unless the weak West shows some unaccustomed backbone. In the United States, the power, the president seems strangely unmoved by events. In a world perceived as dark by many, Waltradamus, seer and chronicler of the future, reveals what is to come.

 

The oil rich kingdom topples down

The Pharaohs rise to grab the crown

The Medes perceive the time is ripe

The west men still believe the hype

 

Mushrooms grow in hardened sand

Pilgrims walk with naught in hand

Blinding flashes fill the night

Darkened eyes cry out for sight

 

Jobless men look hard for toil

Mobless men look hard for oil

Derricks blackened stand forlorn

Mothers weep for their first born

 

Strong men riding horses white

Promise ways to end the blight

Darkness darkness everywhere

Dawn will come but who will care

 

 Check out my new sci/fi novel Chrysalis on Amazon HERE

 

 

Dusty Rooms

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The welfare state created by Democrats sixty years ago is now coming apart at the bloated seams, and many wonder what happened to the dream of untold riches for all, courtesy of the nanny state. The golden days are gone, never to return, at least not for the foreseeable future, and we are left to wander through the dusty rooms of our minds, wondering where it all went.

 

 

I wander through the dusty room

My mind enclosed by distant past

Dark furniture lost in the gloom

Ghosts whispering it could not last

So bright the glow of golden days

When all we wanted seemed so near

We counted not the many ways

The end would come for things held dear

So rich we were that those in need

Were given riches beyond worth

To caution words we paid no heed

We all were kings at time of birth

‘Tis painful now to see the way

The world’s become such bitter ground

How once was here but could not stay

The golden time we thought we found

I wander through the dusty room

That is my youth now in decay

And weep for days in coming gloom

That once were here but could not stay

 

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

 

 

Heavy Sleeps The Crown

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One by one they are going, and Saudi Arabia is next. No matter the president of the United States bowed down to the Saudi king, the days of the House of Saud are numbered.

 

 

Heavy heavy sleeps the crown

As protests grow intense

The blow may come from anywhere

They know not when or whence

The potentates have lived like kings

Entitlement their sense

The oil beneath the sand has made

Them rich beyond offense

But now their subjects feel the winds

Of change blow down the fence

That separates them from the kings

In silken Bedouin tents

Who dine on golden plates and who

Breathe only fine incense

And loll on satin sheets with dolls

Though some prefer young gents

And now it all turns into dust

In storms of violence

Yes heavy heavy sleeps the crown

That once owned presidents

 

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

 

 

A Conversation With A Cat

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Did you ever wonder what a cat was thinking as he lay on a windowsill in the sun, purring contentedly? I did, and asked him, and this is what he said.

 

 

I sit on sunny window sills and dream of mice and men

And how we’re all the same in many ways

Outside a bird is warbling every song he knows again

That is how he spends his minutes and his days

A squirrel is racing up a tree, he seems to have such fun

While I behind the window pane look on

Not envious or jealous as I sit here in the sun

For come the end of day they’ll all be gone

To where I have no knowledge and in truth I do not care

Tomorrow at the window I’ll be here

To look out at the world so bright, so elegant, so fair

A world so far and yet again so near

I know this place is made for me and all who share my world

For God has made us, each and every one

And I content to sit and watch, so delicately curled

Upon my window sill in golden sun

 

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

 

 

Active Verbs

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Some words are active words, some passive. When telling a story it is best to use active words like verbs. This lesson has evidently been lost on our government, from the president to the lowliest spokesperson. Revolution and violence rips the Middle East and we get nothing from Washington but platitudes, nary a verb in sight or hearing. At a recent Congressional hearing on the riots in Egypt the Director of National Intelligence told us that the Muslim Brotherhood, an organization that goes out of its way to preach Muslim takeover of the world by violence, is a secular organization devoted to peace and tranquility. Mr. Panetta, the CIA chief, admitted he had not a clue about what was happening. Not a word from the president or the administration in support of freedom and democracy. All passive, all the time.

 

 

Raymond Chandler was the best

He certainly knew his pronouns

Obama now, surely you jest

He ducks from mob rule throwdowns

His DNI has not a clue

The CIA chief likewise

Heard not a verb all day, did you?

Just passive words came mikewise

It isn’t that they’re dumb as rocks

Though bags of hammers fits them

It’s just that when the big ship docks

They’ll never know what hits them

 

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

 

 

The Ticking Clock

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Libya goes up in flames, Qaddafi sets helicopter gunships on the protesters, hundreds dead, and Obama says not a word.  Hillary says she condemns the violence, but does not condemn Qaddafi. One can only ignore reality for so long. The ticking clock does not care that we ignore it. Undeterred, it just keeps ticking until the hour strikes.

 

 

The ticking clock cares not that we

May choose to watch the hands

Move silent as the restless sea

While rage in foreign lands

Bids fair to change the face of what

We thought of as our world

We pay no heed the land of Tut

Is Islamist imperiled

The Middle East goes up in flames

None care the reason why

Obama smiles and plays his games

Adjourning sine die

 

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

 

 

It’s Not Our Fault

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Why is Egypt a third world country? Why is the entire Arab world so backward it could not, without outside help, pour a concrete patio? Why has nothing of any value, except for the oil sitting beneath its sand, ever come out of the Arab world? An Egyptian friend explained how it was all someone else’s fault.

 

 

My friend said, Walt

It’s not our fault

The fault is Alexander’s

He stole our land

And gave us sand

And camel trail meanders

Then Cleo ran

That Caesar man

And after that came Nappy

But Brits said Hey

That ain’t no way

To make those Wogs all happy

Then Rommel came

And played his game

Till he ran out of panzers

And had to run

Chased by a ton

Of Kingi Georgi’s lanzers

From pyramid

To great El Cid

This was a land of greatness

A Pharaoh’s smile

A houri’s guile

But now the hour’s lateness

Compels us all

To heed the call

For throwing out Mubarak

And that is why

I simply sigh

And wish it were you Barack

 

 

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