The Magic Loom

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Is anyone really dead? Is all only a dream? Are our lives only a thread in an ever larger tapestry woven by invisible weavers? It is often said that we never truly die until everyone who remembers us is dead. But what if Facebook remembers us?

 

 

Too late he slept, the night had fled

As windows turned to gray

And wind-borne ghosts circled his bed

While wolves began their play

They mocked him softly all the while

He moved, but did not wake

Dark shadows swam with glinting smile

Upon the darkened lake

Fierce riders thundered with a scream

As phantoms filled the room

And sly hags wove the nightly dream

Upon the magic loom

 

 See my novels and collected verse at

Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

The Two Trillion Dollar Bazooka

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Treasury Secretary Geithner has called for an additional two trillion dollars in aid to Europe to prevent the collapse of the European banking system. Geithner calls this a ‘two trillion dollar bazooka’. In the dim distant past, when I was a lad, during the FDR era, a comedian named Bob Burns invented a musical instrument that looked mighty like a piece of stovepipe. In fact, I believe it was a piece of stovepipe. So when a stovepipe shaped anti-tank weapon came along for WW2, it was naturally called a bazooka. This is where we are, Geithner calling for a two trillion dollar bazooka to stave off the inevitable for another day or two. I remember laughing when Bob Burns played his bazooka. I’m not laughing now.

 

 

Oh yes our Bernanke

Will sometimes get cranky

When some say all’s darkness and gloom

He’ll just print more money

Then all will be sunny

Just let the bazookas go boom

The problem of course is

There are no more horses

Through open barn doors they’ve all fled

And all the bazookas

Aimed by those palookas

Are now aimed at Bernanke’s Fed

 

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

 

 

The Actor

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Obama delivered his opening campaign speech to a joint session of Congress a week or so ago under the impression that the grandeur of the setting would mean grandeur to his plebeian words. But of course the great marble hall of the Congress did not elevate the commonplace words and ideas to the mean level of inanity. Obama has nothing to say, but he insists on saying it anyway, in the mistaken belief that all the world loves Barack Obama just as much as he does.

 

 

The actor says that without him

The words would have no meaning

Creation starts when given voice

From teleprompter screening

The singer says they’re only notes

Just simple marks on paper

Until the singer gives them life

‘Til then they are just vapor

And so it is that politics

Makes men and women scramble

For writers better than they are

Without them they would ramble

And speak on things they know not of

All vague, opaque and garbled

Believing that they stir the soul

Because the hall is marbled

 

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

 

 

 

 

The Inventor

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It now develops that Solyndra, a maker of solar panels and a major contributor to the Obama presidential campaign, is now bankrupt after being given 535 million dollars in Stimulus money. The question is, where is what is left of that 535 million dollars? How much has been quietly turned back to the Obama presidential campaign? After all, if the company is bankrupt then that means all the money has been spent, doesn’t it? But what if it doesn’t mean that? What if the whole thing was just a way to get a couple million dollars into the Obama war chest? Am I being too cynical? Maybe not. Solyndra execs have just announced they will be taking the fifth amendment when they testify before Congress at the end of the week. But maybe it was just the name. Solyndra. Maybe cylindrical was not in style for solar panels. I asked Thomas Edison, the great inventor, what he thought of cylindrical solar panels.

 

 

The problem is, young man, he said

A cylinder is graceless

I know not who designed it such

Presumably he’s faceless

You will recall my gramophone

Used cylinder recording

Before I realized that flat

Was much much more rewarding

Oh cylinders may have their place

Beer cans, a great invention

Wine bottles, sure, and many other

Things that I could mention

But solar panels need be flat

To catch the sunlight fairly

That’s why the things should not be round

And why they’re built so squarely

So now you know just why the name

Solyndra is a tip-off

The cylinders caught all the cash

And kept it, a big rip-off

And that is how Obama pays

The cost of his believers

Tax dollars fly into the hands

Of bankruptcy receivers

Solyndrical, he whispered low

And vanished with a flicker

And left me with an longish rhyme

To end without a kicker

 

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

 

 

Chickamauga

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The Battle of Chickamauga was fought September 18 to 20, 1863, between the Confederate Army of the Tennessee under Braxton Bragg, and the Union Army of the Cumberland under William Rosecrans. After two days of skirmishing and scattered attacks, Bragg launched a heavy attack on the morning of 20 September. Union General Wood, receiving an order to move his division, did so, even though he was under heavy attack, thus opening a huge hole in the Union line, allowing the Confederates to swarm through and attack the Federal line in the flanks. The Federals pulled back in confusion and defeat, But General Thomas got his men on a hill and defended the army through the rest of the day, earning thereby the name Rock of Chickamauga. During the night the Union army quit the field and returned to Chattanooga. It was a Confederate victory, of a sort, for Bragg’s army suffered heavy losses, and in the campaigns of 1864 was unable to withstand the assault of General Sherman who took Atlanta, assuring the re-election of Abraham Lincoln and the winning of the war and the preservation of the Union.

 

 

A distant hint of butternut

In silence came the host

Across the fields to where the bluecoats lay

In woods beside a little stream

Where men shared nervous talk

And thought of home that warm September day

The drums grew louder as the ranks

Of iron willed men drew close

Then halted as the files were shaken out

Then with a cry the lines advanced

Into the bluecoat flame

On either side was never any doubt

Amid the flags and bugle calls

The dying and the slain

Lay still in place in God’s embracing arms

And there they’d stay ‘til the sweet sound

Of bugles called them home

To see again their mothers and their farms

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon HERE

 

 

 

 

Puissant Pissants

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The Progressive Leftist Obama Administration raided Gibson guitars a couple of weeks ago, claiming they were using illegal wood in their guitars, even though they did not raid Martin or any of the other guitar makers who use the very same wood from the very same suppliers. Could it be the raid by the Holder Injustice Department was motivated by the fact that the president of Gibson guitars is a contributor to the Republicans while the other un-raided guitar makers were, to a company, contributors to the Democrats? No, our Progressive Elite Rulers would never do such a thing, would they? Would they drive Boeing out of business just because Boeing wanted to build a 787 assembly plant in a non-union State? Well yes, that is exactly what they are trying to do. We insist on calling our progressive rulers elites, as if they are somehow chosen by God to rule. They have acquired power, yes, but they are not elite in any real sense of the word. They are pissants, and a puissant with power is therefore a puissant pissant.

 

 

You make guitars?

The big cigars

Are at all times reliant

Upon the law

Whose very paw

Will press the non-compliant

The rules you see

For such as we

Resemble a great snake dance

While left elites

Suck on the teats

Of other puissant pissants

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon HERE

 

 

 

 

Jerusalem

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The word pilgrim means one who comes from afar. Many pilgrims come to Jerusalem, an ancient city holy to three faiths. It is also the capital of Israel, and is constantly a source of contention between the Jews and the Arabs. The Arabs claim Jerusalem is theirs because Mohammed rose to heaven from the Dome Of The Rock, while the Jews scoff and say Jerusalem was a Jewish city a thousand years before Mohammed was born. The problem is, the United States of Barack Obama and his anti-Jewish chief White House advisor, Valerie Jarrett, is on the side of the Arabs. But what is Jerusalem? Jerusalem is more than a temporal capital of a temporal state, it is a city created by God.

 

 

A harsh, dusty land

A province of Rome

Where all would begin

Where all would call home

The end of the world

No villas nor baths

Yet chosen by God

For one of his paths

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon HERE

 

 

The Trap

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It has been some weeks since the Libyan rebels announced they had surrounded Khaddafi and his loyalists, yet the war, if it can be described so, goes on. Have the rebels been sucked into a trap? Have Khaddafy’s  loyalists, determining they could not operate in the open because of Nato air attack, pulled the old fall back in retreat, drawing the enemy into a trap where they will be impaled on the loyalist armor? It is too soon to tell, but the strategy is as old as warfare itself.

 

 

The Golden Horde

Under its lord

The great one Genghis Khan

Would turn and run

And then the fun

Began for Russ and Han

The crescent wings

With stout bow strings

Would circle round the foe

They’d close the gap

And then the trap

Would lay the foemen low

And so it is

That soda fizz

Escapes its prison home

And gives a shout

As bubbling out

Khaddafy henchmen roam

The city streets

Until one meets

The rebel Berber host

Who lightly armed

Are greatly harmed

Despite Obama’s boast

That he has won

And that the sun

On Austerlitz doth shine

And by his wiles

Khaddafy smiles

And says this land’s still mine

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon HERE

 

 

Poll Numbers

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President Obama, worried about his poll numbers, recently acquired a million dollar armored bus from Canada in order to tour the heartland promoting American jobs. I spoke to my Liberal friend Montmorency today about Obama’s plummeting poll numbers. He was beside himself with worry.

 

 

It just ain’t right, those polls, he sobbed

To do this to The One

He’s tried so hard and now he’s robbed

Of all that he has done

To pull this country out of debt

Brought on by Georgie Bush

A brilliant man, a god, and yet

When shoving comes to push

He gets the blame for each mishap

Jobs take a downward spike

And now there comes this missile gap

No, sorry, that was Ike

He’s given us clean air to breathe

No drilling oil for us

Just wait, you’ll see what he’ll bequeath

From his big armored bus

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon HERE

 

 

Riot Control

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Well, we’re back, after an unintended two week vacation. We’ll try to catch you up with what is going on in the political world, where only the sane are in need of a psychiatrist.

 

The riots in Britain are over for now, with five dead and hundreds of millions of pounds lost to looters and arsonists. But because the only dead were innocent civilians trying to protect their homes and families, and none of the murderers, arsonists, looters and thugs was hurt, the lefty ruling class congratulates itself that the policing model is a rousing success.

 

 

The Bobby he ain’t got no gun

Homeowners be disarmed

Ain’t nobody to stop our fun

Ain’t none of us be harmed

We showin’ Whitey what we be

We showin’ him what for

This country now belongs to me

And we’ll be back for more

Now some say take and some say tike

We all see eye to eye

And now that things are jake or jike

We’ll see you bye and bye

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon HERE