Friday, December 15, 2017

That liberal lady (from Politically Incorrect)

December 16, 2017

She crawls on her belly as if evolution
gave her no arms nor legs
so full of venom she speaks poison
with every breath,
a rattler in the desert
too old to slither her way to the top
so clings to the dark under rocks,
where she can hatch her plots
with self-deluded self-righteousness
too bitter and dried up even
to shed her skin, though still
manages to ooze out the blood
she sucks from those she hates,
poisoning herself in the dead of night
when she has nobody she can bite,
twisting self-delusion into what
she believes as truth,
turning noble causes into something ugly,
wringing out every drop of that sour fruit
to get drunk on,
until she can crawl to some other pool
of poisoned water where she can refresh
her hatred for anything she
disagrees with,
finding no solace in the lonely
and mistaken belief
she is always right.

Monday, December 11, 2017

Obama's Bay of Pigs (from Politically Incorrect)

I hear the cry of the Syrian refugees
as they flee the fire
Obama cast over them
in Clinton's call to overthrow
this need to seize from Russia
it's only ally in the Middle East,
full of lust for oil,
These poor Syrian foods
locked in long lines
that stream over borders
where nobody wants them,
carrying pictures of salvation
in their heads
chanting names like
not knowing these
are the very ones
who betrayed them,
who caused their misery,
a fool's hope that these
names might save them
from the becoming some
of the countless dead
littering the landscape
they flee,
prayers to heartless gods
who mock them
by pretending sympathy
while blaming people
other than themselves
for these people's misery,
I hear the cry
of the Syrian refugees
as they stream into
other places
where other people
hate tehm
like boat people
from Cuba,
after Kennedy's
Bay of Pigs
placing a fool's hope
on the very people
who caused the fire
the death
and hopelessness


Friday, December 8, 2017

Cosmetics Plus --- a remembrance

This is the tale of my time working at a company in Fairfield. The owner's son is currently a congressman and once served as President Bill Clinton's speech writer

Cosmetics Plus -- a remembrance

Monday, October 9, 2017

Christopher Columbus

He always came down the same hill on the same street from that blue color enclave overlooking the toughest parts Paterson, down through the Christopher Columbus projects where my mother dragged me for a time and the street gangs couldn’t get over the fact that a white boy could be poor and live in the projects, too, my friend – the son of a postal worker who had hoped his son would become a postal worker, too – making his way through the broken back of Paterson where the projects met the ruins of the old silk mill workers, na├»ve to a fault, believing because his father started out poor that he might be immune to those evil things that happen when white faces like his wander in places like this, the same street gang waiting half way down the hill for him to appear, his pale face, his funny looking World War I campaign hat, his bellbottom jeans, and the wads of singles he had stuffed in his front pocket so he could make a payment on the guitar he had put on layaway at the music store near Broadway and Main, desperate to own something he could hold in his hand and create art with his voice, and each time he came to pay, they waited, acting as the intermediary collection agency, taking even the loose change he kept in his other pocket for the bus ride home with his receipt, making the same trek until he came to realize he would need to take the bus both ways if he ever expected to avoid the post office and pursue a career in art, four tall towers of the projects looming over even that route, he protected by the thin glass of the bus, shattered in places from kids throwing rocks as the bus passed, these projects all named after questionable men with pale faces, once havens of hope, new shinny kitchens and snug bedrooms offered to the poorest of poor, turning into vertical slums even  old Paterson’s Italian thugs could not have survived – with Christopher Columbus projects the worst in the city, where poor preyed on poor as the police kept guard on the boundaries, keeping everything contained like a virus, with only a few fools like my friend failing to recognize the warning signs until too late, a reckless Columbus searching for new horizons that won’t trap in him a life time job in the post office the way his father was trapped, he willing to risk having his money stolen in a dream he was buying on the installment plan.

Monday, September 25, 2017

Taking a knee

Everybody’s taking a knee these days
During the National Anthem at sports games
A new fad similar to the Ice Bucket Challenge
Of a few years ago, when people dumped
Buckets of ice over their own heads 
For a good cause, or like streaking was
In the 1970s with naked people running 
Through public spaces for some ungodly reason,
Taking a knee says you’re somebody important
Someone with a conscience,
Someone who might otherwise burn a flag
If they could find a lighter in these days
When cigarette smoking is a mortal sin,
This being the latest scheme in a desperate
Anti-administration con game
From sports figures who have milked
The system, while brothers and sisters
Still starve in the ghetto,
A symbolic gesture without any dollars
To back it up in the age of free agency,
Defended by lunatics who hate god
And country after losing their vote
Who a few years ago were first to attack
A spokes figure who took a knee
To thank god for all he had and all he
Would do, win or lose,
Anti-God lunatics howling at the moon
Over this kneeling
When screaming now about the right
For this new breed of sports idiocy
As free speech,
The self righteous railing against
Anything they disagree with,
And so as to silence god or Nazis
While desperate to defend
Free speech they agree with,
Hypocritical lunatics
Blurring the lines between right and wrong,
Shaping anything they disagree with as
The fountain of all evil,
But do whatever it takes to abuse
Those who disagree with them,
He, we, all kneeling 
Pretending what we say when we kneel
That their speech is any less hateful
Than the speech they blame us for