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.
  

A Few Words About Sacrifice

While watching Meet the Press today I heard Republican Governor Bob McDonald of Virginia say something very telling and I’m wondering if anyone else heard it. As he was praising the Paul Ryan budget he said (and I double checked the transcript): “It takes big ideas, and-- and things that are going to take some sacrifice for a lot of people in order to get our country back on track.” and I immediately noticed that he said “sacrifice for a lot of people” and not sacrifice for ALL Americans. After the segment ended I stopped and thought, is this the new paradigm for America? Are the days when we all sacrificed really over for good? Are we now and forevermore to be a two class society? Do we now have one class of people who are too rich to sacrifice, too rich to fail, too rich to jail, too rich to fight in the wars that they so eagerly support, too rich to be bothered with the problems of the masses, too rich to be burdened with higher taxes? And do we now have another class of people who are to be called upon forevermore to do the dirty work, to do the fighting and the dying, to take the fall, and make up the shortfall, and pay the higher taxes in order to keep our country on track? Is this the conservative vision of the Natural Order of Things? Is it the result of a generation of trickledown economics? Or is this a wakeup call to the 99% who with only a modicum of self preservation have the power to turn our country back into a nation where we all sacrifice in times of hardship, and where a rising economic tide does indeed raise all ships … including the boats and rafts of the middle class and poor. Yes, if only the 99% would serve themselves instead of their masters, we could have that country back, and we could tell Governor McDonald, and Paul Ryan, and their ilk that “you sirs will share in our sacrifice, and together we will ALL get our country back on track.”

  

Lowlife (a poem)

After catching up on the Sandusky trial and reading in the news today that Steven Powel will be out of jail in just 21 months, I had to write this:

To: Steven Powel
Cc: Jerry Sandusky

I’ve got to think a guy like this
Is the lowest of the low.
From where he sits I can’t imagine
Anything below.

So I asked God “Hey why do you
Let creeps like this keep livin’?
Aren’t there people even you
Would say aren’t worth forgivin’?”

And God told me “The paperwork
Has already been done.
Signed and notarized” he said
“The devil gets this one.”

And so I asked the devil “Hey,
What’s up? Are you reneging?”
And he said “No, this guy’s so low
That I’m still busy digging!”

And so you see now guys like this
Sandusky, Powell and others
Would have been dead long ago
If we’d all had our druthers.

But like I said up there on top
These guys are so damned low
That hell is not beneath them yet.
The devil told me so.

The Evolution of Intolerance:

With their cloaks of fear and ignorance wearing thin,
Those who stand against gay equality
Will soon stand before the world
As they stand before their God,
Wrapped only in the tattered cloth of bigotry.

Though less recognizable
Than the white sheets of another era,
The cloth still chafes;
Bleeding, infecting, and scarring
All who continue to wear it.
  

The Fading Tales of Heroes

World War II novels

With tattered covers

Worn out bindings

And faded pages

Are put up each night

But by day

You can find them

Out in the halls

Sitting on benches

Walking on pathways

I saw them last week

At the Old Soldier's Home

With their thin necks

Like bookmarks tucked

Into real life war stories