Sharpen The Knives
(Damascus, August 21, 2013)
Awakened by incoming rockets making a whistling noise
Impacting with muffled explosions; he could not breath.
He punched himself hard in the chest to get air moving.
People all around were choking without air and suffocating.
More than fourteen hundred confirmed dead,
Over four hundred of them babes and children.
All the victims, staring up with open eyes
And their mouths wide open trying to breath.
A regime attack ordered by President Bassar Assad
Against the citizens of Syria in Damascus.
A terror use of poisoneous gas to impose terror.
Babes do not fight wars, they are truly innocent.
The President is a socialpath killer of his people.
While they choke to death, he eats his breakfast.
Bassar Assad is a marked man, revenge is normal,
It is required, it is fundamental to the beliefs of Muslims.
Shite and Sunni War
(Qusayr, June 11, 2013)
Bashar Assad has succeeded.
The focus has been redirected
From regime change in Syria
To a Shite against Sunni conflict.
The old hatred in the Muslim World,
Of Shite's not being true believers
Has been exploited by Syria's leader.
He has inflamed these divisions.
Syria's Civil War is exploding,
Lebanon's Hezbollah fighting in Syria,
Qusayr falls to them after three weeks
Of horrific street to street battle.
Iran supplies fighters and war equipment.
The borders of Turkey, Iraq and Jordan
All have been violated and killing done.
Russia flies in arms to the Assad regime.
Saudi Arabia, the Qutar Shiekdom,
France and Britain support the rebels.
The USA reluctantly begins active support.
Israel sits on the fence, watching all.
Refugees' number more than a million.
The dead number one hundred thousand.
Cities and villages now piles of rubble.
The Shite-Sunni War has now begun.
(Atareb, Syria, Nov. 27, 2012)
The 46th Regiment hunkered down,
Safe within their walled citadel.
The Free Syrian Army or FSA
Controlled the area outside the walls.
The Regiment was cut off from supplies,
After two months, they were desparate.
Food was being rationed as well as water,
Only ammunition was plentiful.
The Free Syrian Army attacked at night.
They breached the northern wall
And captured a section within.
Their foothold included a building.
They found artillery in the building.
They moved it into position to fire,
Their target, the headquarters building
And the soldiers of Bashar Assad within.
"Surrender or you will be killed.
Do you want to die for Assad?"
A white flag appeared in time,
The Commanding Officer approached.
"Allah is great and we are his children.
Bashar Assad is a bloody devil.
We beg for the mercy of Allah.
We are believers and we surrender."
Within the cellars of the building
Were crates of new Russian weapons.
There were hundreds of surface to air missiles
And the launchers that put them in flight.
Assemble, insert missile, pull safety,
Clear back-blast area for fifty meters.
Adjust sights depending on target distance,
Aim, wait for red light-beeper. Fire!
They followed the instructions with care;
A MIG-23 jet and a helicopter
Were destroyed by missiles the next day.
The war has turned, no longer a stalemate.
July 18, 2012
A meeting of the Defense Council
Is in progress; an explosion detonates.
Ministers and senior advisors dead,
Others wounded by the blast within.
Three Ministers and senior military,
Killed in their very own headquarters.
No one is safe, the knife has turned,
For those who would oppress freedom.
The Syrian freedom fighters chant:
"It is going to end for killers."
"It is going to end for jailers."
"It is going to end for torturers."
Invitation To A Dance
For President Bassar of Syria
There is going to be a party.
You are invited to the dance.
It will be a big celebration,
Everyone will be at the event.
Yes! You Assad are the guest.
You are the guest of honor.
No one can replace you here.
You simply must come to the party.
Their will be singing and drums.
The women will all be beautiful.
The men will dance in the streets,
Even the clerics will make an appearance.
The sky will be filled with fireworks.
The guns will be fired to inform all,
That we are celebrating an event:
"The Last Day of an Evil Regime."
You don't have to dress-up for the dance.
We'll give you a hood for your head
And a rope for your skinny neck.
You'll dance with the Devil this night.
The Noose Tightens
(Damascus, June 8, 2012)
In a small farming village near Hama,
Syrian "shebiha", local Alawite paramilitary,
Hacked, stabbed and burned to death
All the Sunni farmers and their families.
This was the second such incident within two weeks.
Two days later in Damascus after prayers,
The people gathered to protest and march.
Government troops opened fired on them.
The crowd dispersed, but some took up arms.
A battle in the city took place into the night.
Automatic weapons and rifle grenades responded
To the soldiers and the tanks cannon fire.
Both side inflicted and suffered casualties.
The battle has begun, it has moved to Damascus.
The gunfire could be heard in the Presidents palace.
It is the beginning of the end for a terror regime.
President Bashar Assad should listen carefully.
When he hears the hammering of nails,
It may be for the scaffold he'll hang from,
Dancing in the air as his people celebrate.
Terror In Houla
(May 25, 2012)
In a small farming town in Syria,
Two hours after noon time prayers,
Army troops fired cannon and mortars
That fell on the farmers of Houla.
This indiscript town in western Syria
Was now the target of their own Army.
The bombardment killed twenty,
But, that was only the prelude to horror.
Toward dusk, armed men entered Houla,
Some were in uniforms, most were neighbors
From a Shite town nearby and recognized.
The slaughter of innocents began in earnest.
Victims were forced into one room,
A family of eight with babes in arms
Was systematically murdered in turn.
No mercy to a Sunni, that was the message.
The bloodletting continued unimpeded,
Families killed, victims of Bassar Assad.
One hundred and eight were buried,
Laid to rest in shrouds the next morning.
Assad is fermenting a religious war,
Where a Shite minority is forced into support
Of a bloody regime of hate and terror.
Thusfar, the Sunni have not responded in kind.
It is not their neighbors that they hate,
It is the regime of President Bassar Assad.
His days are numbered, no forgiveness is possible.
Vengence is required, Assad's death is foreordained.
(March 10, 2012 in Syria)
Another Syrian town is surrounded.
Artillery and tanks are poised for action
Against the citizens of Idlib,
A Provinvial Capital in the north.
The command is given to the artillery "Fire!"
Death and destruction rain down on Idlib.
The innocents are blasted while sleeping.
Homes become debris filled with death.
The tanks are ordered in at dawn,
Firing thier machine guns at everything.
Go into the streets and you die.
Stay in your home and you die.
The "goons" break down the doors.
They arrest targeted activists,
Dragging them off for interrogation.
"Will we ever see our father again?"
A replay of the terror of Homs,
Another city about to be murdered.
Violence, terror, death and depravation,
These will all visit Idlib by order of Assad.
At night, at the checkpoints,
The men are taken from their families.
They are taken to be murdered:
"This is the price you pay for freedom."
Old men, women and children,
They flee from the terror of Homs.
Four weeks of bombardment;
No food, little water and death.
A regime gone mad with killing.
They kill all who voice opposition.
Citizens are only citizens in Syria
When they conform to the rules of terror.
No one is safe from fear and terror.
Women are raped in their own homes.
Children are sodomized while mothers watch.
The Mosque is violated and Korans burned.
Oh Syria! You cry out in pain.
Oh Syria! Evil is your Master.
Oh Syria! What hope do you have?
Hope for Justice! Hope for Guns! Hope for Freedom!
Allah is great and we are his children.
The family is sacred and must be protected.
Evil is here and guns will bring us freedom.
The rope of retribution will bring us justice!
(February 17, 2012)
The Army of Syria does battle,
It advances on the city of Homs,
The third largest city in Syria,
One and a quarter million people.
They target the voices of change.
They shell the houses of women.
They destroy the schools of children.
Hospitals are targeted for destruction.
The brave soldiers ride in tanks,
They have helicopters to assist them,
They demonstrate their killing prowess
Against citizens who would raise a voice.
The shells rain down on the voices.
The water and lights have been cut.
The bullets richochet off the buildings.
The food is gone and people will die.
The world watches and debates:
"How do we stop the murder of Homs?"
The United Nations condemns with a weak vote.
Mourn with me, say a prayer for the voices.
Arab Spring, 2011
Dictators, Kings, Presidents,
They are all old men or sons.
The regimes are run by despots.
The Mullahs support ancient ways.
The youth are educated without jobs.
Their hopes and dreams are frustrated.
Their futures are questionable.
They want a vote, jobs and family.
The despots are on edge this spring,
Two have been toppled from power,
Two more are soon to be overthrown.
The casbah is rocked by revolt.
Every Friday after prayers to "Allah",
The people march in civil protest.
They march for change, for a future.
They demonstrate against corrupt rulers.
The regimes attempt to hang on:
They shoot the unarmed protestors,
Hundreds murdered in Yemen's streets,
More than a thousand gunned down in Syria.
The people are paying for change.
They pay with the blood of their children.
This revolution will not be suppressed.
This revolt will change the Arab regimes.
The Ophans Revolution
(Syria, 6th year)
The people are in revolt throughout Syria.
They demonstrate in unyielding defiance,
Against a terror regime that controls everything;
Fifty years of fear, suppression and exploitation.
In the cities, each Friday after prayers.
The unarmed people take to the streets.
They want Basar Assar to leave Syria.
The President has lost the support of the people.
Assad talks smooth, but turns the dogs loose;
Snipers on the rooftops target and kill,
Armored vehicles turn thier killing guns on the people,
Regime aircraft bomb civilians waiting in bread lines.
The regime imposes terror as a weapon of choice;
Women raped within the sanctuary of thier homes,
Men arrested, tortured, murdered and dumped,
Boys taken from homes, beaten, raped and killed.
Some towns are deserted in fear of the regime.
The people sleep rough in the fields with thier children.
Many flee across borders to refugee camps.
Refugees, wounded, detained and killed, the toll rises.
This is a civil war, they believe they are ophans.
No press coverage allowed, only a few aid them.
The toll mounts: more than a four hundred thousand dead,
Thirteen million external and internal refugees.
The people are unbelieveably brave and do battle.
They fight for freedom, a vote, an opportunity.
They fight seeking human dignity and rights.
They fight for the future of their children.
And now they flee in terror and dispair.
We Will Succeed
(Syria, February, 2012)
More than twelve months of protest.
More than seventy-five hundred killed.
Perhaps ninety thousand refugees
And thousands more wounded.
The Syrian people are defiant.
They march in the cities.
They unite against the regime.
They risk death each time they march.
Snipers target head hits to kill.
The Army is ordered to fire on protestors,
Even women and children are murdered.
The tanks guns blast the mosques.
Basar Assad is a killer of his people.
They hope he will receive justice.
They hope the Dictator will hang.
They hope for freedom and liberty.
They will march, they will resist,
They will organise and do battle.
They will topple this killer regime.
They will succeed, no matter the cost.
The Spark Ignites
Wiki Leaks posted "SECRETS",
USA communiques from State,
On the web for all to see:
Tunisia's President is beyond corrupt.
A Tunisian vegetable vendor
Is insulted and slapped around
Because he didn't pay off officials
For marketing his staples.
He pours gasoline on himself,
Sets himself afire and burns.
He lingers in hospital for days,
And dies. Tunisians are outraged.
The spark of anger explodes
Against a corrupt and arrogant regime,
A regime of fear and suppression,
A regime hated by the people of Tunisia.
They demonstrate and demand change.
They demand freedom and democracy.
They demand the end of the regime.
In the night - the President takes flight.
The Last Pharaoh
The light of change shines
With the flight of Tunisia's President,
A Facebook page calls for protest
Against Mubarak of Egypt.
At first, the protests are peaceful
And Mubarak agrees to some demands,
But he refuses to relinquish power.
The people demand his departure.
He orders "goons" into Tahrir Square.
They ride in on camels and horses,
Beating and disrupting a peaceful protest.
The battle goes on for hours with rocks.
Reporters are targeted and beaten:
"Suppress the news! Stop the filming!"
More than 200 dead and missing.
Cry; "Freedom" "Democracy" and "Change".
Change is promised, Mubarak resigns.
The joy of victory and feedom are heard.
The last Pharaoh is deposed.
A new Constitution is awaited.
The cries are heard loud
In the languages of the oppressed:
"Freedom" "Democracy" "Food" "Jobs".
The youth demonstrate for change.
The President of Tunisia fled in the night.
Mubarak has relinquished power.
The dictator regimes are in terror.
And the protests spread for change.
Yemen, Bahrain, Libya, Jordan,
Algeria and the Persians of Iran.
The roll call of oppressive nations grows.
The people want change and freedom.
Censorship no longer works.
Cell phones film the violence.
The internet spreads revolution.
The old guard is being toppled.
Net Age Dialogue
(Obama and Hilary)
February - 2011
The President of Tunisia has fled.
The protests are spreading.
Mubarak has finally resigned.
More people are demanding change.
The marching is ongoing.
The demonstrators are fearless.
The roll call of martyrs grows.
This is a true cry for democracy.
I have already voiced clear support.
You have also spoken loud and clear.
All peoples have rights to freedom.
Suppression will not work in the Net-Age.
The wars we are fighting currently
(In Irag and Afganistan)
Have hardly changed anything.
We have spent lives and treasure
With little to show for our efforts.
The message is as clear as crystal;
Imposing change with arms fails.
The people must impose change.
The "net" is the new weapon.
Mister President, I totally agree.
I'm directing funds from States budget
To expand internet voices for democracy.
The Net-Age will ring the freedom bell.
De Oppresso Liber
The people of Libya demonstrate.
They want change from forty-two years
Of dictatorship by Muammar Khadafi,
The "Monkey King" of the Middle-East.
Eastern Libya breaks away from Tripoli.
The people set up a new government.
They organize to liberate all of Libya.
They dream of a united "free Libya".
In Tripoli, Ghadafi fires on demonstrators,
Hundreds are killed; men, women, children.
Thousands are wounded and terrorized.
Tens of thousands become refugees from terror.
The people fight the army with sticks.
They ask Europe for help and arms.
They ask America for help and arms.
The "powers" condemn and freeze bank accounts.
This story is half told, the end unclear.
Freedom cries out against paid assassins.
Khadafi is delusional, paranoid and mad.
Khadafi needs to fall before freedom will blossom.
(August 23, 2011))
It is a day of celebration,
The Khadafy forces have fled.
The city of Tripoli is liberated.
The country of Libya is free.
The regimes Army has been defeated.
The gun mounted utility vehicles
Engage the last of the diehards,
But nothing will void this triumph.
The people dance in Martyrs Square.
They celebrate the last of a despot.
They celebrate a great victory.
They celebrate a new beginning.
Requiem For Muammar Khadafi
(October 20, 2011)
The dictator of forty-two years is dead.
While fleeing, his convoy was bombed,
He sought refuge in a sewer drain,
Where he was found hiding by the rebels.
Still alive, he was beaten and killed.
An eighteen year old finished him off
And took his golden pistol as throphy.
Justice has been done to the oppressor.
On his people, he imposed terror.
He gave them torture and prisons.
When the prisons were full, he killed them,
To make room for new prisoners.
The Lord of Retribution is validated.
The "Monkey King" as he was called,
Dieded like a cockroach in a sewer;
First stepped upon and than exterminated.
The people are joyful and jubilant.
Sing out your goodbye: "Go to Hell Khadafi!"
Remember the thief and madman.
Remember the despot and murderer.
Dance in the streets, fire your guns.
Celebrate the end of a feared dictator,
Who did so much harm, to so many.
For so many years: "Go to Hell Khadafi!"
Buried In The Desert
(October 25, 2011)
He lay half naked in a meat locker
On public display for four days,
A new kind of state funeral
For Muammar Qaddafi, ruler of Libya.
After mid-night, a convoy arrived.
He was prepared for buriel:
Wrapped in a shroud, placed in a coffin.
His son and one Minister joined him.
They drove into the expanse of desert,
Stopped at an empty location,
Where the Muslim cleric said prayers.
All three were lowered into the ground.
They lay in unmarked graves
At an unknown location.
No monument, no mourning, hidden,
With nothing but desert sand to cover them.
Election In Iran
The regime counts votes
And declares victory.
The people in disbelief -
The election was stolen.
Facebook and Twitter,
And revolution in Iran,
Filmed on cell phones,
Distributed on You-Tube.
The government censors.
The government filters.
The government blocks.
Information is revolution.
The people in Iran
Find holes in the Internet,
The messages keep flowing,
Each a scream for justice.
Neda: The Voice Of Iran
An innocent walking in the street,
Targeted by a regime sniper.
His bullet flies and hits his victim.
Neda's last words are: "It burned me."
She dies in the streets of Tehran,
Amid protestors of election fraud,
Killed in an act of terror,
To quell the voice of the people.
A passerby films her death
And the whole world can see
The blood staining the street
As her life flows from her.
In the Farsi language,
"Neda" translates as "the voice".
The voice of freedom is not silent,
It sings loud from the rooftops.
Battle Of Ashura
On "Ashura" the holiest of holidays in Tehran,
The crowds marched to protest a dictatorship.
The regime rules after rigging the elections in June,
Stuffed ballot boxes are not legitamacy.
The police attempt to disperse the marchers.
They fire tear gas into the marching crowds.
They wade into the crowds with swinging batons.
They shoot their guns into the air as a warning.
The crowd surges forward without pause.
They overwhelm a police station.
They torch police vehicles in protest.
The police fire into the massed protesters.
Many protesters are wounded and ten are killed.
The illigitimate regime murders its own citizens.
The people of Iran are stunned at the killings.
The world watches the choatic battles in the streets.
A police van with protective grill work
Drives into the crowd and does murder.
The injured and dead are left in its wake.
The stunned onlookers are shocked by the brutality.
The next day, fifteen hundred are arrested.
The regime will use violence, force and intimidation.
The citizens of Iran cry from the rooftops:
"Down with dictators! Give us justice!"
IRAN: Death March
The government of Iran is fearful.
The Ayatolla who is the dictator
Has a message for demonstrators:
"Sedition will incur mass executions."
The people of Iran know this is real.
They know executions are on going.
Friends and dissidents go missing.
The bodies are returned for burial.
The governments "thugs" on mortorcycles
Will be out in force to intimidate.
The people who march must be prepared.
The chance of martyrdom is present.
The Ruler threatens peaceful demonstrators.
Dissidents are threathened with mass murder.
Obama, raise your voice for all to hear.
This is barbaric and madness by a despot.
(March 11, 2011)
Close off the coast of Japan,
An earthquake rattles.
This is a 9.0 monster,
Larger than anyone could imagine.
The earthquake generates a tsunami,
A wave of immense volume -
Seven to ten meters high,
It sweeps all in its path.
The people of this land
Are hit with this water mass.
The time to escape is minutes,
It swallows and churns all in its path.
Thousands doomed in a killer wave.
Lives changed in a moment.
Towns demolished in an instance.
A landscape littered with broken dreams.
Say a prayer for souls no longer here.
Bow your head and weep for mankind.
Don't ask why! There is no answer.
Life is precious, treasure it each day.
The storm meandered toward the East Coast.
Another cold front was moving down from Canada.
The mixture of cold and warm moist air is bad
And "bad" is what "Hurricane Sandy" became.
New Jersey was hit directly by the storm.
Seacoast towns were battered by the ferocious waves.
The evacuation was mandatory and frightening:
"Will our homes still be there after the storm?"
New York City swamped, subways and tunnels flooded.
The airports closed and thousands of flights canceled.
Power generators shorted out and a city in darkness.
No power, transportation curtailed, darkness and fear.
Over one hundred people killed in this storm called "Sandy".
Fifty billion dollars in estimated economic damage inflicted.
Family homes of generations washed away overnight.
Teardrops enough for lives that have been changed forever.
A once in a hundred year storm is the description of this storm.
A late hurricane, a cold mass from Canada and high tides:
The formula for disaster, disruption and destruction.
This is the first wave of "global warming" to hit America.
(June 25, 2009)
The crisis is beyond crisis.
Congress is taking testimony.
Bernanke is the target.
He saved us, from spiralling down.
Members are preemed for camera,
Looking very impressive indeed.
Questions are prepared by staff,
They each have their five minutes.
Chairman Bernanke tells all.
No pressure at all, just facts,
The country was tanking
And a deal needed to be done.
Congressman shout: "Fire the man",
He refuses his whipping.
He believes he did quite well,
Considering "the end was near".
The flow of numbers is constant.
It can be higher or lower every day.
It can be multiplied or divided tomorrow.
It can be with interest or not.
This is the science of mathematics.
This is the science of programmers.
This is the science of investment bankers.
This is the science of gamblers.
Show me the numbers and I will know.
I will know that the economy is growing.
I will know if the markets are tanking.
Because numbers talk, I will know.
Now, someone must set the parameters.
Then experts can develop the algorithms.
Should the guidance be off the mark,
The results can be catastrophic.
Thus, developed the term: "black swans".
Until a pair were seen in Australia,
No one believed that black swans existed
"Black swan" shocks are algorithms doom.
Dance Of The Capital Markets
I am not making a return.
The market is down and so am I.
Interest rates are below one percent.
Ten year Treasuries are at three percent.
Haven't they heard about inflation,
Not to mention taxes are rising?
Costs are going up all around.
My yield is stuck in the mud.
The government spends without care.
Don't they know each dollar of debt
Is a future tax with interest owed.
My grandkids can expect "poor".
The global currency is the dollar.
We should be able to leverage that,
But regulations, laws and taxes,
Are deleveraging the dollar for sure.
Congress and the President spend.
I wish I had some money left,
But all I get are promises and hope,
While waiting for my taxes to go up.
Demography Is Destiny
(Post 2012 USA Election)
Who the electorate are does matter in elections.
There is a diference between a male and a female.
There is a difference between blacks and whites.
There is a difference between Christians and not so.
People believe, they have hopes and aspirations.
The landscape is ever changing in its make-up.
The economy has cycles, they are the norm.
Education reflects different levels of knowledge.
All of this, the blendings are the demographics,
How a country and electorate forever morph.
This last election demonstrated the changes.
This land is more a mixture than ever before.
The biggest block of voters is not a party.
It is not Democratic. It is not Republician.
It is the women voters of this country.
The fastest growing block is Latino's.
A voice in politics must talk to the voters.
All the diverse views need to be addressed.
You can try to buy an election and some do,
But the money is swallowed up in negativism.
The message of the 2012 election is clear,
The old demographics are no longer working,
The new diversity has come to the forefront.
Talk to the people, reverse this trend of exclusiveness.
The Old Man and The Fire
(Bud and Emma McCrary)
Gusting winds whistle up the mountainside,
Driving the wildfire from a small foothold.
It spreads up a gulley where brush burns.
The embers fly and a firestorm takes hold.
A large white house stands in its path.
A mandatory evacuation order has been posted.
The old man had settled in these mountains,
After the war, more than sixty years ago.
"I'll make my stand here, this is my home.
We'll cut the brush and build fire trails.
We have water and we will fight the fire.
My sons are here, my wife stands with me."
A fire engine arrives and prepares for battle.
Foam is sprayed on sheds and out buildings.
More brush is cleared and more trees are cut.
"This house will not burn." the firechief states quietly.
The blaze spreads to the northern gulley,
Coming to within ten feet of a shed.
The water hoses do their work, and it is doused.
An ember ignites the south gulley and fire rages again.
The firemen in their flame resistant suits
Go in and tear out burning brush.
Trees above ignite and tar pitch explodes,
Blowing the tops off the redwoods: "Run! Run! Run!"
All escape, but they come back and fight the inferno,
Twenty four hours in smoke and flames.
Now everything is black except the glowing embers
And the white house of the old man and his wife.