A Trump staffer said watching Biden is like watching “an episode of Mister Rodgers [sic]” — To which I must agree. Watching Biden’s town hall was calming and I came away from watching it feeling better about my country, about my world… much like watching Mister Rogers used to make me feel as a child. Most importantly, I felt better about my fellow countrymen than I have in the past four years — I came away from it daring to hope we can become a UNITED States of America again.
The tune is one composed c. 1982, by the poet. The lyrics, also composed by the poet, were composed in 2015. The song inspired the poet's short paranormal romance novellette, "The Dance Plays On" – A delicately sad tale of transcendent love, a perfect kiss, and haunting, beautiful tragedy
We, women and girls, have been told all our lives not to argue… that it’s “not ladylike.” I’m sick to death of being told to hush! I’m beyond fed up with being silenced. We have survived them all our lives.
Our heroes serve by choice. Ours is an all volunteer service today. Our nation's champions sacrifice and serve. And, when they bleed or die on far flung battlefields, we must raise them up and render all due honor.
This is the opening sections of one of my WIPs. Enjoy. Prologue She lay there, spent and breathing her last, knowing it was the end for her. Everyone and everything good she’d known was gone now. She was alone. How had she… how had all the realms come to this pass? She thought, I don’t … Continue reading Terashan and the Saga of the Crystal Empires
“Pride is one of the seven deadly sins but it cannot be the pride of a mother in her children, for that is a compound of two cardinal virtues -- faith and hope.” by Charles Dickens
The Bible is made a cheap propand mendacity cheapens our soulFact is made meaningless by liesOur Constitution papers the outhouseLoyalty is brought low by betrayalThe king revels in his Oval throne roomAnd the “Stars and Stripes” is soiledThe sick and dead fall all around usBut the king commands our childrenback into the breach you babesBack … Continue reading How Democracy Dies
“If we have between…one hundred thousand……and two hundred thousandWe’ve altogether…done a very good job” So says our raving russet-tinged Boneman…the pitiless tawny tutelar* horseman……our POTUS become PestilencePresiding, gloating, as we pass 175K…expecting maybe 300 for Christmas One hundred and seventy-five thousand…dead we can scarcely conceive……and still the tutelar Boneman extolsThe virus will just magically disappear…and … Continue reading Horseman POTUS
This poem was inspired by my teenager's bout of angst over the crises in which we find ourselves in 2020