A Stone Unturned

Her life came

Her death came

 

Her thoughts

Her dreams

Her words

Her deeds

Lie unwritten

Unrecorded

Unrecalled

 

Her face

Smiles only

In the memory

Of a mirror

On a wall

In a hallway

Irretrievable

 

She was a stone

Unturned

Thank You Mr. President

 

Thank you President Obama. Thank you for fighting so hard for so many Americans during these past four years. Thank you for toiling day and night to clean up the mess that was left to you by the previous administration, and by Republicans that to this day continue to throw their shit on the floor, and taunt you as you continue to mop it up. Thank you for being consistent in your message, and unwavering in your commitment. Thank you for leading we the American people who still have respect for the office of the Presidency, and for attempting to lead those who do not. Thank you for pushing tirelessly against the immovable obstructionists in Congress in order to repair a nation that they are so willing to further damage for their own political gain. Thank you for working to improve the lives of the millions of Americans who blindly reject every policy that you seek to enact on their behalf. Thank you for continuing to speak to all of your constituents, even though so many of them now cover their ears when you talk.

 

Most of all Mr. President, thank you for being willing to sacrifice four more years of your life to continue taking on this task on behalf of your country. You dream for those with minds too closed to dream. Like Jackie Robinson, you put up with vilest sentiments that still exist in American society, even as you inspire America to be better.

 

Thank you President Obama. You have my confidence and my vote.
 

Burning Season

The wood stove needs a cleaning,
And the stove pipe needs it too.
I got a big wire brush on a long thin pole
That I shove right down the flue.

And the soot gets on the rooftop,
And the soot gets in the air,
And the soot gets all over both o’ my hands.
There are fingerprints everywhere!

And the wood pile needs refilling,
And the kindling bin does too,
And the chain saw needs a brand new chain,
But the old one will have to do.

So I head out to the back lot,
With my saw and a pickaroon,
To cut down a tree, that between you and me,
I shoulda cut down last June.

And the sawdust gets in my eyeballs,
And the sawdust gets in my hair,
And the sawdust goes right down the back of my shirt,
And from there it goes God knows where!

And my boots are filled with wood chips,
And my hands are smeared with pitch,
And I’ll shout hallelujah when the springtime comes!
"Cause burning season is such a, ...drag!
 

An American Modern

I’d rather be wealthy than healthy.
I’d rather be lucky than wise.
Book learnin’ page turnin’ grade earnin’
Would surely be hard on my eyes.

So I choose to sit here on my sofa,
Right in front of my high def. TV,
With a cat in my lap, watching hours of crap,
Getting up on occasion to pee.

Yes I’m an American Modern.
The son of a man who worked hard,
So that I could sit here drinking cases of beer,
While the dog shit piles up in my yard.

Yes I’m an American Modern,
And I live the American dream,
Eating Big Mac’s and fries while absorbing the lies,
Fast becoming as dumb as I seem.