Turn The Other Cheek

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The foreign policy of the Obama administration is clearly to turn the other cheek. The Iranians kill our soldiers and there is no retaliation; the Iranians boast that when they get the bomb they will incinerate every Jew in Israel, and Obama claims the Mullahs are our friends; the Iranians sent a hit team to DC to assassinate the Saudi ambassador and we shrug it off because we don’t want to offend the people who are determined to kill us. We lose a super secret drone in eastern Iran and Obama refuses to allow the military to destroy it so that its invaluable secrets do not fall into the hands of the Iranians, and through them the Chinese and Russians. The reason for the Obama refusal is because he was afraid the Iranians would consider it an act of war. But the Iranians declared war on us 32 years ago, in 1979, and we continue to turn the cheek.

 

 

Be peaceable, my children

And turn the other cheek

Will only get you slapped again

And scorned for being weak

Yes death soon comes to he who waits

For peace to come from high

And offers cheeks instead of fists

To killers drawing nigh

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

We Got Worries

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The Middle East is entering a new and dangerous phase, as violence erupts anew between Sunni and Shi’a, Iran and Saudi Arabia, Syria and Turkey, with Egypt, potentially the most powerful of the Arab states, sitting on the sidelines until the Arab Brotherhood assumes full control. The West in general and the United States in particular, have not a clue how to go about resolving these worries and troubles.

 

 

Trouble and worry, worry and trouble

Nervousness mounts as uncertainties double

The bright Arab Spring is now turned to drab Fall

As over the region there hovers a pall

The clouds that were gray are now deepest of black

As Sunni and Shi’a gird for the attack

The hatred is not from the Koran each reads

Though hatred is surely what springs from it’s seeds

It’s power each seeks over others to rule

That leads to the smothering brothering duel

Israelis are sanding the decks as we speak

And blowing their matches, the flag at the peak

Assad swings the axe but continues to slip

As Hamas creeps quietly off to the Strip

Yes something is coming, it is felt in the air

And when sand turns to glass I for one will not care

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

The Whims Of The Gods

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Science has inclined people to believe that the world and the universe can be controlled. The gods laugh at the pretensions of us pitifully weak humans, for the gods know that human control over the real world is limited. The gods know that the real world is ruled by whim, and the whims are the whims of the gods. It matters not whose gods or which gods, it matters only that the whims be understood and met.

 

 

In the darkness of the northern woods

In the glare of the savannah’s noon

In the huts of the Basarwa tribe

In the magic of the Celtic rune

The gods of man and universe

Are twice beseeched and thrice believed

By those who seek what they might know

And knowing it are thus bereaved

For whimsy is the stock in trade

Of gods and goddesses alike

Who smile at stumbling man’s attempts

To understand the lightning strike

The woods redound with laughter as

We simple creatures cringe in fear

Basarwa cry as huts grow dark

And flick’ring shadows draw anear

How shall we know the universe

When we know not the smallest thing

But know we well on sharp cold nights

The gods of wood and tempest sing

 

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

The Holy Roman Empire

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France and Germany seem intent on keeping the Eurozone going, if only with 17 of the original 27 countries. A look at the map and you will have seen this all before. It was called the Holy Roman Empire, and it lasted from about 800 AD to 1600 AD, so it must have had something going for it.

 

 

How grand it seemed in Aachen

Carolus Magnus on the throne

Where all was well with Europe

From the Elbe to the Rhone

Eight hundred years it lasted

Though no one knew quite how

And while neither holy nor Roman

It functioned, ah but now

The Imperium Romanum Sacrum

Immortal, blessed by God

Is but a scarce thought memory

Long dead beneath the sod

Reborn, the Heiliges Romisches

A Reich for thousand years

Is crumbling into ashes

And none be shedding tears

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Freedom Dreams

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The Arab Spring is rapidly evolving into Arab Winter, as radical Islamists gain power, all the while the US State Department and Obama administration praise the rise of moderate democracies in the region. I spoke to a highly placed Arab official the other day, and asked if reports were true that moderates were now in control of the Arab Spring. He smiled and said,

 

 

Of course we moderates in charge

We do not like the ones with guns

Most useful, yes, but by and large

It’s not with guns the Springtime runs

From Tunis to the eastern shore

All now belong to Arab yes

The tyrant colonel king no more

Our effort Allah surely bless

A new world is to come to pass

Where freedom rules in every land

And all have work to wealth amass

And happiness at every hand

Of course we have some problems too

With those who think not as do we

But all say guns from French are due

And as for that well we shall see

You must excuse me now for I

Hear much of shouting in the square

I fear I hear my people cry

If men with guns I must be there

So saying he broke into run

As guns erupted ‘mid the screams

I could have said you need a gun

To guarantee one’s freedom dreams

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Teshub The Weather Guy

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The global warming crowd is holding a conab in Durban, South Africa, in an attempt to resuscitate their dying scam. In a recent visit to Hattusa, the capital of the glorious Hittite Empire, I wandered into the temple of Teshub, the god of the sky, weather and storms, and asked him about this global warming thing. He looked at me askance, and said he would happily make it warmer if he could, since it was cold on the high Anatolian plateau. I asked him about CO2 emissions, and he shrugged and said that was a question for Telepinu. “He’s a down to earth kind of guy for a god, though I suppose he has to be, since he’s the god of farming.”

 

 

But as for warming, Teshub said

Some years the ice just thickens

While other times it’s quite reversed

And it’s hot as the dickens

And Telly said the other day

That CO2 is needed

For all his plants and trees and such

And everything that’s seeded

I left the way that I came in

The Hatti gods have spoken

There’s no such thing as climate change

Not even in Hoboken

So gather ye in Durban town

Ye folk of climate changing

Your fraud and scam is sinking fast

While deck chairs you’re arranging

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Yesterday And Tomorrow

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There have been a couple of recent and interesting developments. Hezbollah has been infiltrated by CIA and Russia activates its missile warning system. If Hezbollah is yesterday, and they soon will be, then Russia and Putin are tomorrow. Enjoy today.

 

 

Yesterday

 

Let’s hand it to the CIA

They got from State some guys who’re gay

To infiltrate the Hezbollah

And pretty soon it was voila!

The Hezbollah guys were in love

With every little turtle dove

The CIA could find to send

To Lebanon to find a friend

Who’d spill the beans while snug in bed

It worked so well they’re now all wed

The Hezbollah are husbands now

They each have one sweet bearded frau

And CIA pays child support

For every new arrived report

Yes Hezbollah no longer kills

And does whatever Allah wills

For wifey has them by the shorts

And though he squeals and cries and snorts

Their days are done, we knew they were

When they preferred a him to her

So raise a toast to CIA

With State they rose to save the day

By sending guys they knew who would

Do quite a job by smelling good

 

Tomorrow

 

Putin huffs that he won’t yield

He’ll activate the missile shield

He claims our guns are aimed at him

But he must think we’re really dim

The Russian liberty’s a fraud

They’re out to take the near abroad

Return it to its former state

As vassals to the late and great

Old Soviet of Stalin’s time

Where guys like Putin learned to climb

The ladder over fallen guys

Who stumbled in Beria’s eyes

And vanished in the northern snows

And disappeared where goodness knows

Yes Putin has his missile shield

And yes we know he will not yield

And from my lonely point of view

It looks like we’re in Cold War 2

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE 

Butter People And Olive Oil People

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Europe is divided into two kinds of people: butter people and olive oil people. The butter people live in the north and work hard and pay their taxes and the olive oil people live in the south and don’t, at least not enough of them. Germans have a high level of productivity, resulting in huge export cash balances, while the south imports most of what it needs from the north using money borrowed from the north, and which the olive oil people are now finding it inconvenient to repay. The answer, of course, is for the butter people to lend the olive oil people more money. The latest scheme is to issue partial protection certificates to bond buyers, but somehow a lot of people on both sides of the butter/olive oil divide are beginning to think giving buyers of newly issued bonds a partial protection certificate issued by the ESFS is unlikely to solve anything since the ESFS is running out of cash itself. And now the Fed and central banks have ponied up some more cash to tide them over for a few weeks. Something has to give. The fascist, unelected soviet called the European Union is in its death throes, and when it goes so will go the euro and the whole rotten dictatorship.

 

 

The PIIGS are getting restless

And the Germans getting wise

And the butter eaters knowing now

What subsidizing buys

In Brussels they are up quite late

They’re burning midnight oil

Arranging deck chairs in the hope

The ocean does not boil

But things have reached a pretty pass

Where nothing seems to work

And darkness closes in and ghostly

Shadows seem to lurk

Behind the curtains shutting out

The grim scenes now in play

As bankers struggle to stay calm

While terror rules the day

They did not listen to the folks

Who told them at the start

That olive oil and butter simply

Must be kept apart

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Isfahan Or Wasfahan

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Over the past several months a number of Iran’s top nuclear scientists have died unexpectedly, and a series of mysterious explosions has taken place in the vicinity of Iran’s nuclear weapons plants near Isfahan and other cities, all, no doubt, accidents and entirely coincidental.

 

 

In Isfahan they heard the blast

Echoes of the recent past

Pick any blast that you may choose

It’s certain they were caused by Jooos

The Mullahs seem to walk on eggs

They wobble on uncertain legs

The Jooos, those evil Satan spawn

Explode their bombs and then they’re gone

A message perhaps do you think

That says if you so much as blink

Some hydrogen will come your way

And it will surely spoil your day

So read this message, little man

Or Isfahan is Wasfahan

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Goodbye Barney

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Barney Frank, Democrat of Massachusetts, has announced he does not intend to run for another term in 2012, and a good thing too, for he has done enough damage to the country already. Barney Frank was largely responsible for the financial crisis of 2008 through his lies about the solvency of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, lies  that resulted in bank failures and Keynesian stimulus packages that doubled our national debt at a stroke, a debt that bids well to drive the country off a financial cliff. So thank you, Barney, for your years of disservice to your country. Have a happy retirement.

 

 

Do we care Barney was a fag

Who took us on a spending jag

Who ruined Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae

Who sneered at heteros like us

And threw his friends under the bus

And never heard a single word we’d say

Who got the Congress to pass laws

That ripped us all in a good cause

That only he could see was worth his while

He made no money was his boast

But he collected more than most

Enough to keep his boyfriend right in style

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE