Category Archives: Verse

The End Of The Line

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In 1945, at the Japanese surrender aboard the USS Missouri, Commander George Kosco, USN, took the only color film of the event. The film remained in Commander Kosco’s possession until it was restored in 2010. The USS Missouri was one of four battleships of the Iowa class, the Iowa, the Wisconsin, the New Jersey and the Missouri. They are gone now, the end of the line begun when the English built the first race-built galleons, sleek and fast, through the great wooden two and three deckers to steel and steam. The big gun ships of the line have had their day, and now they are gone.  

 

 

The race-built heeled into the wind

So swift, so sleek, so lean

Yet who could tell when she was launched

The future had been seen

The race-builts paved the wooden way

For frigates and the like

Ships of the line with billowed sails

And sheet-work marlin spike

Then sail was done for steam and steel

Just laughed at wind and tide

And guns now turned, no longer did

They line the checkered side

And then at last the end had come

For battleships and men

The Iowas are gone and we’ll

See not their like again

 

 

The Left Will Always Be

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The Left has been in the driver’s seat in the United States for close to 80 years, and in Europe for longer than that. The hard Left, Communism and Fascism, is gone, and the soft Left, the Democratic Socialism of the Western Europe, is on its last legs, ironically at the very time the Left in the United States is doubling down in its attempt to duplicate the leftist paradise they think they see across the Atlantic. But thankfully the past election has changed all that. The Left has been repudiated, and the United States is about to change course, to smaller government and greater freedom for its citizens. But the Left will never give up its dream of ruling us all as they see fit. The Left will always be with us.

 

 

The Left has had its run

And while they’ve had their fun

The rest of us were facing wrack and ruin

The lefties didn’t care

They acted debonair

And smiled and said hey partner how’m I doin’

But now it’s at an end

There’s no more dough to spend

They’ve buried us far deeply underground

But unrepentant still

The Left says pay the bill

We’ll get it right when next time comes around

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

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THANKSGIVING 2010

 

 

The turkeys mill about the pen

Each turkey tom and turkey hen

The turkey sentries loose and lax

They do not see the sharpened axe

Oh dear

 

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

 

 

Come Fly With Me

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Frank Sinatra once sang Come Fly With Me, but that was before there was a National Security Administration. The TSA, under the direction of Big Sis Janet Napolitano, is determined to pursue a course of greatest embarrassment and inconvenience to the American traveling public instead of doing what any sensible person would do. Sensible people would try to find out WHO was getting on the plane, but Big Sis is determined to find out WHAT is getting on the plane. We have to take off our shoes because a terrorist had explosives in his shoes. The Word Trade Centers were brought down by guys armed with boxcutters, so we cannot take scissors on planes. The underwear bomber failed to explode his bomb and so we know he had a bomb in his underwear, and this means we have to have strangers grope around inside our underwear. Do they change gloves for each pat down? They do not. The gloves are for their protection, not ours. Sensible people, like the Israelis, look for terrorists; Big Sis looks for containers of mother’s milk. We scrutinize every tenth person in line, no matter if that tenth person is an 85 year old grandmother from Des Moines, or a crippled child. Bearded young Arab males go unchallenged, because that would be profiling, and we can’t have that. If you are hunting a man-eating tiger it is no use believing rabbits are possible tigers.   

 

 

A bearded man dressed as a nun

Approached TSA screeners

What’s in the jug one screener asked

“Why lunch, it’s just boiled wieners”

Well she’s okay, another said

Don’t bother with the cork

She’s not an Arab that is plain

For Arabs don’t eat pork

At full pat down the screener cried

What’s this inside your pants?

“Why that is just a crucifix”

She smiled with winsome glance

And so he boarded for his trip

To Allah’s paradise

A jug of naptha and a match

Lit up the nighttime skies

Meantime a little crippled child

Was ordered off to jail

For hindering the screeners work

When she began to wail

And so it went and so it goes

Our government plays hob

With peoples’ lives but all is well

Big Sis is on the job

 

 

In Google We Trust

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Google is facing legal challenges all over the world for its invasion of privacy in collecting data on  individual private citizens with its wi-fi interceptions. Data is the mother lode of politics. The more they know about you the more they can manipulate you. And now Google is hand in glove with the Obama administration. Should we be afraid? Yes, and not only because Google is prepared to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to elect left wing Democrats. Google, if left to carry out its plans, will soon have a very thick file on each and every one of us; our incomes, our history, our email and our secret desires. Google is out to become Big Brother. A Coogle, incidentally, is a redhead with freckles.

 

 

A candidate who’s frugal

Needs not cash but only Google

And each voter’s mind and pocketbook are his

If you’re freckled, play the bugle

They will know you are a coogle

And they’ll know if you’re a Mr. or a Ms

Secret ballot’s in the past sir

Now it’s Google that’s your master

They know what you think and how you vote and more

Congress halls once alabaster

Now are primed for real disaster

And we tremble thinking what is next in store

 

 

A Maximum Of Civility

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A revolution is underway in the United States, brought on by the Tea Parties and the resounding repudiation of the leftist form of government that has grown up around us like a cancer. There are those, of course, who do not like revolution; too messy, too untidy. These people understand the revolution is happening, but hope it is conducted with a maximum of civility. Can a modern major revolution be conducted in a civil manner? The answer is to the tune of Gilbert and Sullivan’s A Modern Major General.

 

 

We like our revolutions with the maximum civility

We like to think we get along to best of our ability

We want no fuss nor wish no muss

We want the world to liken us

To cheerful riders on a bus

That leads to our facility

Where we can do our best to see that everyone is happily

Engaged in work and play they do precisely well and snappily

A world where men know best and then

We’ll dance and sing and laugh again

And poets take up ink and pen

To Nomes and Indianapoli

Yes revolutions are done best when all are smiling merrily

And friends and foes alike are greeted ma’am-ily and sir-ily

And when it’s o’er our little war

Leaves no one mad and no one sore

The rich still rich the poor still poor

And all will shout, yea verily

 

 

 

Islands In The Son

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Marco Rubio is the new Republican Senator from Florida. Marco Rubio’s parents escaped their island home, communist Cuba, because they wanted to be free, and wanted their children to be free. Barack Obama left his island home, Hawaii and muslim Indonesia,  because his parents wanted him to change the United States form of government to communism. Marco Rubio and his parents embrace the very nature of the United States; freedom and opportunity. Barack Obama and his parents embrace the very nature of oppression; communism and rule by force. We shall see whose vision prevails.

 

 

One left his island home and all he knew

To come to taste the freedom that he craved

He came to love the old red, white and blue

‘Twas freedom and not gold the streets were paved

The other left his island home as well

And followed other stars to make his way

Red giants who had whispered, This is hell

We count on you to make it red some day

One left his home and gave his heart and soul

To his new home and made it better still

The other left his home with but one goal

To burn the shining city on the hill

 

 

Down She Goes

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The Euro is about to crash and burn, the EU is about to succumb to nationalism and power over-reach, and the Germans are just plain tired of German taxpayer money going to prop up countries where the people riot in the streets if they are asked to work two more years before they get their pensions. The whole European experiment in gargantuan socialism and rule by unelected fat cats sitting in Brussels is about to turn turtle, and is going down like an old battleship hit by four torpedoes. And when it does come apart and slides down to Davey Jones’s locker, the only ones standing will be the Germans, with the German Central Bank calling the shots for a shot down Europe. 

 

 

They’re in the throes

And down she goes

Just please don’t tell your kids

The Portugese

Go down with ease

They’re Greece-ing up the skids

They will not thank

The Deutschebank

For keeping them afloat

They’ll cry and bitch

The filthy rich

Just want their euro vote

The Deutsches Herr’n,

Just wait their turn

What they’ve been waiting for

For sixty years

They’ve shed the tears

And finally won the war

At Stalingrad

When things got bad

They said just wait once more

And all they lost

Will now be bossed

Yes they finally won the war

 

 

Hunter Gatherer Dreams

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One of the more pressing questions of the day is, which was the more important discovery/invention, fire or the television remote control. Did hunter-gatherers huddle around the fire on the edge of the ice sheet dreaming of a future of ease and comfort, of flat screen televisions, of sit-coms and slanted news? There are people sitting around the virtual campfire today who will tell you the remote control has it all over fire for importance.

 

 

When hunters hunted

And gatherers gathered

Did they sit ‘round

With popcorn slathered

And peach ice cream

On sugar cones

Listening to

The Rolling Stones

The future but

A tiny glint

A long way from

The knapping flint

Or did they dream

Of better days

Of kinder climes

And kinder ways

Of radio

And sit-com shows

And Jerry Springer

Come to blows

With fires banked

Against the night

They slept

Awaiting the first light

Then up again

The morning news

The traffic guy

The weather blues

And so it went

From stone to bronze

Through Milton Berle

And on to Fonz

At last on stone

A chiseled quote

“It all sounds nice

But so remote”

 

 

Zinging In The Reign

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The president, at the beginning of his tour of Asia, visited the great city of Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay, where he ensconced his massive entourage of thousands in two luxury hotels, reserving every room on every floor. The president and his clacque  then hied to Delhi where he visited the grave of Mahatma Ghandi, entering the memorial through a bombproof tunnel a half a mile long, built for the occasion by the United States military, no doubt as part of a shovel ready stimulus package. The president is spending a billion of our tax dollars on a ten day trip. Does he care that we are outraged that he is using the US Navy to take thousands of his friends on vacation at our expense? No he does not care. He likes zinging us. He likes giving us the finger. Will he change his tune now that the election has decimated his party? No he will not. Obama will not sing that tune. He has his own song. He is zingin’ in the reign.

 

I’m zinging in the reign

Though it’s raining in the Singh

What a glorious feeling

The wonders I bring

I lower the seas

I temper the breeze

I’m zinging in the reign

Yes we’re here in Mumbai

Just my dear wife and I

We’re just like most people

We like living high

Then we’ll visit a mosque

Tea at friendly kiosk

Just zinging in the reign

For just millions a day

We will laugh and we’ll play

‘Cause it isn’t our money

It’s not us who will pay

The Navy’s on hand

Just to see that we land

Just zinging in the reign