Category Archives: Verse

Behold A Pale Horse

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The four horsemen are riding in this country, but they are not named War, Famine Pestilence and Death. No, not those guys. The horsemen this time call themselves the Tea Party, and they are riding a political tsunami that intends to cast out the old power hungry political bulls and change the politics of this country for the next couple of generations. And they are led by a lady on a pale horse.

 

 

Behold the four horsemen

Note well the steed pale

To Irish the Norsemen

Debarked in Kinsale

To others the four

Are the riders of death

Who slay by the score

With the stench of their breath

But now there’s a new

Set of riders astride

Steeds of quite different hue

And they ride them with pride

And their names are not Famine

And Sickness and War

The first one a gamin

Named Beck and there’s more

There’s Angle and Haley

And Jindal of course

And Sarah quite gaily

On the lead Palin horse

 

 

The State Is Me!

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There is an arrogance of power in Washington, an arrogance not limited to the current occupant of the White House. Arrogance of the congressional leadership, who ram through legislation over the loud objections of the electorate, arrogance of the media who believe it is their right and duty to tell us what they want us to know and not tell us what they don’t want us to know, and the arrogance of the current president who asserts he knows best what is good for us and will damn well give it to us. This is the way of the Left, from Robespierre to Stalin, from Pol Pot to Mao Tse Tung, a communist murderer who killed upwards of sixty million of his own citizens to further his power, and whose portrait adorned the White House Christmas tree not so many months ago. To the Left, there is no such thing as Country, there is only the Left.   

 

 

The Left asserts, “The state is me!”

All else disqualified

The rest of us just pay the tolls

Along just for the ride

They cannot see where they are wrong

Cannot misstate or err

The country heading for the cliff?

Then onward we must spur

We’ve seen how quickly many times

Lese majeste befalls

The arrogant as men rebel,

Less majesty their calls

 

 

Who Was That Mosqued Man?

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Iman Rauf and his muslim loving and America hating colleagues in the Democratic party are determined to build a muslim victory mosque at Ground Zero over the objections of all right thinking Americans. What we need is a good old American hero, like the masked man Lone Ranger, a radio hero of yesteryear, who, with his great horse Silver and his faithful Indian companion Tonto, took on the bad guys and won, with courage and good old fashioned horse sense. This mosque business could be solved in minutes by Silver alone, so simple is the question: shall we allow the muslims to build a victory mosque honoring Mohammed Atta and his heroic muslim murderers who killed over three thousand innocent American civilians or shall we not allow it.

 

A RADIO PLAY IN ONE ACT    

 

Tonto: They’re going to build a mosque at ground zero, kemosabe.

Lone Ranger, looking askance: Stop calling me that, Tonto. What’s a mosque?

Tonto: A kind of church. And the president got all upset because a man in Florida threatened to burn a Koran.

Lone Ranger, looking puzzled: North Koran or South Koran?

Tonto: And the man in Florida says the Muslims are threatening to kill him for threatening to burn a Koran.

Lone Ranger: Sounds like a job for us, Tonto.  Where’s my horse.

 

Three bars of the William Tell Overture later Tonto and the Lone Ranger arrive in Manhattan

 

Lone Ranger: This dispute can be solved with some good old fashioned horse sense, Tonto. What do you say, Silver? Should a mosque be built at Ground Zero?

Silver: Neigh

Lone Ranger: There you have it, Mayor Bloomberg.

 

Problem solved, and with a hearty “Heigh-Yo Silver!” the Lone Ranger and Tonto ride off into the sunset. Music, fade to black.

 

Mayor Bloomberg, bemused: Who was that mosqued man?

 

 

Get Your Greasy Hands Off My Pension!

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The coming financial tsunami started many years ago when the public sector unions, in bed with the politicians they elected, voted themselves gigantic pensions, pensions that now are strapping the taxpayers who went along with the heist when times were good. From small municipalities to large states, the public employees unions are breaking the bank with pension payments to people who retired at ages as early as fifty on full or nearly full pay. Greed has its own reward, and the general public is about to see what unalloyed greed, for money by the unions, and for votes and power by the politicians, has in that nicely wrapped little present sitting on the coffee table. We have no choice but to cut those pensions back or go down the tubes like Greece or Portugal, just two examples of the socialist ruin visited upon us by ourselves.

 

 

My name is Walt

It’s all my fault

I wanted no attention

I got my pay

And ‘long the way

Some things I cannot mention

I’m set for life

A trophy wife

A mansion and Mercedes

I’m young and spry

With still an eye

For well endowed young ladies

Yes life is good

That’s understood

Though lately there’s some tension

The wife just left

My income cleft

The bastards cut my pension

 

 

At Daggers Drawn

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The Belmont Club has an interesting post about the new Woodward book on the Obama administration, the premise of which is that Woodward begins his interviews at the bottom of the ladder, talking to people who see the opportunity to get their names in print, and so tell him things they think will get them that brief moment of fame. Woodward then interviews people at the next level up, indicating he knows a lot more than he’s telling, and the people at that level then believe the people at a lower level have told Woodward things that might be damaging to them, and so are at pains to disavow or dispute statements that were never made. And so it goes, everyone assuming those below have the knives out, making them afraid not to defend themselves. Woodward’s methods simply reflect the entire Washington mind set. Everyone is at daggers drawn.

 

 

At daggers drawn

In deepest night

We creep toward dawn

And fear the light

We have no friends

We share no trust

No means or ends

That mean we must

Work hand in hand

With colleagues who

Will just demand

We’re loyal to

The guy above

Whose shoes we shine

Who shows no love

And gives no sign

That loyal works

Both up and down

He’s got his perks

He owns this town

And when its time

To tell a lie

He drops a dime

On such as I

At daggers drawn

We walk the halls

Each just a pawn

When Woodward calls

 

 

A Problem With Muslims?

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Time magazine wonders if America has a problem with Muslims. The left of course would never wonder if Muslims have a problem with the United States. To the people at Time and to the so-called leftist chattering class everywhere, everything is always our fault. Do Muslims kill Americans for no reason than that they are Americans? Of course they do, but Time magazine cannot and will not ever see it that way. But others do. We do, and one day the tipping point will be reached and that will be the end of it.

 

 

They push old wheelchaired men off boats

They smile for cameras cutting throats

They kill at weddings, brides and grooms

They drag young women from their rooms

And stone them, laughing as they kill

While shouting it is Allah’s will

They hijack airplanes by the score

And throw the bodies out the door

They dress young kids in vests and bombs

And send the pictures to the moms

They cheer in streets as thousands die

As terror kills them from the sky

An embassy is no safe place

From this disgusting, vilesome race

With Muslims Time may have no beef

But one day we will take a leaf

From the big book of Muslim plays

And show them all the many ways

The West has found to kill a man

As quick and dirty as we can

We’re slow to anger, but we will

And one day soon there’ll be a kill

A thousand suns will burn the grass

And all the sand will turn to glass

For only then will terror end

We never break, but sometimes bend

But bend enough and something snaps

Just ask the Nazis and the Japs

 

 

James Lee

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James Lee, the man who held hostages at The Discovery Channel building in Virginia until shot dead by police, was animated by concern for the Earth, for the goddess Gaia, spurred on by the mindless insanities of Al Gore. James Lee gave his life that no more babies be born to despoil the environment, and was enraged that the Discovery Channel did not carry more programming about the coming global warming catastrophe. James Lee was an environmentalist, and like a good many environmentalists who burn down housing developments in the dead of night and kill scientists and other innocent people in the name of environmentalism, James Lee CARED.

 

 

Confess we’re all on James Lee’s side

We want our perfect world, and now

We try the filth and dirt to hide

Behind a careworn furrowed brow

I’d like a world where children laugh

Instead of crying in their sleep

I’d like to write the epitaph

Of tyrants killing men like sheep

I’d like to see whom we elect

Work hard for us and not themselves

Who do the job that we expect

Not scoop the good stuff off the shelves

I’d like to see us reach the stars

And banish poverty for all

Why stop at Luna or at Mars

Cannot you hear the star fields call?

We can do better if we try

We can be more than we have been

There is no step that is too high

Indifference the only sin

 

 

A Stab In The Back

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Wall Street is turning against President Obama, the man they supported overwhelmingly in 2008. From 70% of all Wall Street donations to Democrats in 2008 to 32% of all donations to Democrats in 2010, Wall Street has shown it has now seen the face of Barack Obama and they don’t like it. They don’t like the new Financial bill, and they don’t like the Democrats’ resumption of the class warfare theme portraying Wall Street as the villain. Obama believes he has been stabbed in the back by his Wall Street friends. But that’s because Obama is incapable of believing anything he does has consequences. 

 

 

Why did you stab him in the back

They asked me many times

And though they put me on the rack

I can’t confess my crimes

For loyalty’s a sometime thing

And honesty a curse

For what does blind devotion bring

But harsh ride in a hearse

I see no wrong in what I’ve done

You truly have no case

We thought him the Anointed One

But now we’ve seen his face

 

 

The Seeders Of Lebanon

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Lebanon is careening toward civil war again, this time between muslim factions, Iranian backed Hezbollah and a Syrian backed militia called Al-Abash. Street fighting is taking place as Syria attempts to regain control of Lebanon, taken over by Iran and Hezbollah a few years ago. But there is more at stake here than Lebanon. Syria is showing it is back in the game, and is the Sunni regional power that all other Sunni states in the region can rally around as Iran flexes its muscles. With the Obama administration committed to surrender, the region is trembling, waiting for the match to light the fuse. The seeds of war have been sown, and will very soon be reaped.

 

 

In Lebanon street battles rage

As Hezbollah exits the stage

And Syria resumes control

And Sunni gangs now do patrol

The very streets the Shiites thought

Were theirs and so they were distraught

To find themselves again at war

With Sunnis who would like the score

To be reversed to favor them

But who will rule that little gem?

The seeds of war are sprouting fast

The wakeful know the die is cast

 

 

On Hollowed Ground

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Iman Rauf has said Ground Zero is not hallowed ground, all in keeping with the claim of the Imam and the New York Times and Barack Obama that the building of a Victory Mosque dedicated to the bravery of Mohammad Atta and his equally brave muslim colleagues who flew airplanes into the World Trade Center buildings and killed three thousand Americans is an essential ingredient in the American policy of freedom of religion. Their view is that the building of a mosque any place and for any reason is protected by the Constitution. It matters not to them that building a mosque at ground zero will be hailed in the muslim world as a great victory over the Great Satan; indeed, to Obama and the Democrats and the New York Times, victory over the Great Satan is a condition greatly to be desired. But what of reciprocity? Can a Christian church be built anywhere in any muslim country? Can carrying a Bible land you in jail in Saudi Arabia? Why is it my hallowed ground is fair game, but your hallowed ground is off limits?

 

 

Why is it that my hallowed ground

Is yours to give or spread around

But only to your confrerees

Who do to others as they please

And since The Other swings from trees

And uses words like dem and dese

That gives you license to berate

And sneer at our benighted state

One day an Imam sought to build

A mosque on land gullied and hilled

Beneath the land were limestone caves

Above a sign said Jesus Saves

He built his mosque but sadly found

You should not build on hollowed ground