Bushless in Katrina
Conversation with Laura, Planning Moves
Pre-War Cabinet Meeting
Conversation Between Two Sheiks
Paradox in Chief
Wrong War, Pro-Consul To Civil War, Bushwhacked, Four Years Make A Difference
Requiem For The Fallen, Baquaba, Churches Blasted
Iraqi Oil, Fullujah Roadblock, Leaflets In Fullujah
Freedom, The Heart Of A Believer, Fat Cat
Iraq Body Count
Echo Company Returns, Believer's, Alert!
Najaf Checkmate, Nightmare, Oxymoron
Spiral Into The Abyss, Terror's Impact, Political Science
Conversation With W, Predictions, One Thousand Dead
Fullujah Killing, Democracy In Fullujah, Christmas In Mosul
Terror Or Democracy - 12/19/2004, Classified Plan, Mirage
Suicide Bombers, Spreading Democracy, The Deadliest Day
Turn Back The Sun, Clash Of Civilizations
Requiem For Order, Endless Failure
Conversation With Condi, Hubris, Mad King George, Conversation With God
Crossroads, Collateral Damage
Size '10' for Bush
The Age Of George W. Bush
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!"
Weep For Lebanon (Trilogy)
Hizballah provokes Israel-
With a planned kidnapping:
Two Israeli soldiers now hostage,
And five killed in the combat.
The dogs of war are unleashed.
Israel responds with artillery fire,
And launches pre-planned strikes;
Its Air Force ready to destroy.
The targets are the infrastructure.
They are designed to cripple,
They are destruction of commerce,
They are the communication links.
While terror and death prowl,
The people of Lebanon flee.
They seek refuge away from the bombs,
They cry out to the world for justice,
The big powers talk of self-protection,
The rights of the Israeli people,
While a new democracy crumbles:
In response to a terrorist provocation.
The roar of the beast;
It tears asunder the morning,
It explodes in a canopy of terror,
It is tanks and war planes.
They have come for revenge.
They have come for retribution.
They have come to do havoc,
And I am truly frightened.
Our simple lives are no more.
We no longer know tomorrow.
Our world is being destroyed.
By the mighty Israelites.
Lebanon's Black Truce
A peace in Lebanon,
With both sides holding guns,
With destruction all around,
With hatred deeply ingrained.
This is the end of a war
That has achieved nothing;
That has wrought a new generation
Of children that hate their neighbors.
The politicians and the generals,
They each declare victory;
But the dead do not vote,
And the grieved only have tears.
Lebanon has been torn asunder.
Israel is still fearing terror.
The dogs of war are still angry-
Only a weak leash holds them in check.
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.
CAPITAL MARKETS WHIRLPOOL - 2008
If this is the way it was -
This is the way it will be.
It is the history of repitition,
Programmed within the algorithms.
The black box of algorithms
Can calculate the chances.
It can create great wealth,
With a strong dose of leverage.
The Masters of the Universe
Gather in their billions.
The algorithms make great sums,
And we all admire greatness.
All the money in the world,
It was bet, and bet again.
Great wealth is made by leverage.
Great minds work algorithms.
A black swan comes from nowhere,
And the algorithms faulter.
All trades deminish with leverage,
And billions flow from the coffers.
And now their is a great stew:
The black boxes are throw in,
The algorithm boys are throw in,
Masters of the Universe float on top.
Bernard L. Madoff ponzied $50 billion.
The sum is staggering in its size.
The losses ripple well beyond the splash.
This scam will impact thousands of lives.
The Securities and Exchange Commission,
The governments enforcement agency
Ignored warnings and reports of malfeasance.
The rules were in place, enforcement was lacking.
The investors trusted "Bernie" L. Madoff.
He was an honest broker and a good man.
This is the tale that is told to the media.
His credentials were beyond reproach.
The results of investing with "Bernie" were good.
Each year, he reported consistent returns.
No matter that markets were down, "Bernie" performed.
His audits were false and a "signature CPA" endorsed.
When he was quiried, he told his clients:
"It is a proprietary trading system,
Enjoy your fortune and don't tell anyone.
Trust me on this, I know best."
Family fortunes wiped out, celebrities duped,
Charitable funds gone - good works halted.
But the greatest impact will be on the very word:
"Trust! Trust me! Believe! I am an honest man!"
BURST LEVERAGE '08
Leverage! Leverage! Leverage!
This was the word for growth.
In the previous few years,
Prosperity and commerce grew.
Now, the system almost fails,
And the culprit is leverage.
Leverage went ballistic -
Thirty to One and higher.
A slight misjudgement proved fatal:
Banks are emptied, no longer lending,
The largest insurance company,
It made bets, without insuring.
The "Masters of the Universe",
Residing in the investment banks,
Wagered with leveraged foolishness.
Their "House of cards" crumbled.
Government in absolute panic,
Appropriates billions to dispense
In an effort to stabilize
The credit system of capitalism.
Leverage is a dirty word.
Investment bankers are villians.
"Masters of the Universe" are fools.
Capitalisms "shrapnel" wounds all.
HOOK-UP, '09 Begins
The 'bubble" broke.
Wall Street is down.
Main Street is hurting.
Government is scampering.
Bail out banking!
Bail out automotive!
Bail out the USA!
Woe unto us people,
401's are now 201's,
Retirement is a joke -
The money is gone.
My mortgage is behind.
The "repo man" has my auto.
My wife is leaving me.
I need a job.
Unemployment keeps rising.
The belt is already tight.
My insurance has run out.
I need a parachute.
(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.
Weep for New Orleans
Hurricane Katrina swept in,
From the warm waters of the Gulf:
A force of wind and rain and tides,
A powerful harbinger of destruction.
At first, it looked like a near miss,
But then, the water surged and overflowed.
And the levees began to crumble,
And soon New Orleans was flooded.
No food, no drinking water, only death
Or evacuation: a whole city fleeing-
To seek shelter, to seek help.
Watching people die on TV.
The people plead for our assistance.
They are on the rooftop islands.
Fires burn buildings down to the water line.
All are dazed, all seek help now.
Looting, mayhem and bedlam begin.
Hundreds will die tragically.
The people of New Orleans are in hell.
Weep with me for New Orleans.
Bushless in Katrina
Mister President, you've seen the news:
CNN has reported major flooding.
It appears that the levees have failed
And parts of New Orleans are submerged.
You know, I've been keeping my eye on that,
And I'm still waiting for confirmation.
Neither the Homeland Security or FEMA confirm
That the city is flooding as shown on CNN.
Sir, you really need to do something.
You need to confirm what CNN is showing.
You need to talk with your appointees.
You really need to get off your horse and act.
Well, you just may be right this time.
I'll definitely do something Presidential.
Just you watch me, it is really time to act.
Here, hold my bridal, I'm going to dismount.
The earth splits and shifts
In the Indian Ocean
Off the coast of Indonesia,
And a Tsunami is created.
A surge of water travels
As a ripple across the ocean,
And makes landfall in waves-
Giant waves of death and terror.
The destruction is massive,
Striking down rich and poor,
Killing workers and tourists,
Leaving death in its wake.
The numbers and tragedy grow,
As the disaster unfolds.
In disbelief, we hear reports
Of thousands lost in the water.
The disruption is beyond belief.
The tragedy beyond comprehension,
As people in far-off lands
Reach out, asking us for help.
The world mourns for the many victims,
The victims of a tsunami wave of destruction -
That sweap the shores of the Indian Ocean,
As thousands were swallowed by the sea.
Be they fisherman, tourist, or farmer,
They were by the sea that Boxing Day.
And their lives ended by a terror wave
That took them too early to their end.
We mourn the Muslims of Indonesia,
We mourn the Buddhists of Thailand,
We mourn the Hindu of India,
We mourn for all the others who are gone.
Remember them for all the lives they lived,
Be they Prince or be they fisherman.
Remember the mothers and grandparents,
Remember the children who are all gone.
Mourn with compassion, for mankind is grieved.
Mourn with sorrow for lives not yet lived.
Mourn with your tears for this tragedy.
Mourn for we are human and life is a blessing.
The fire had been advancing for days.
Rick and Jeannette thought they were safe
On their three acre site above the creek,
Their beautiful retirement home in the trees.
All of a sudden the wind picked up,
Blowing sparks and embers in the air.
The fire spread around Paradise township.
The wind whipping and jumping down a canyon.
The Sheriff drove up their driveway.
They had fifteen minutes to evacuate.
They grabbed photos, clothing, eyeglasses,
And last, they grabbed their insurance papers.
They loaded both cars and were escorted out,
Now hearing the the whop-whop-whop sound of choppers.
They looked back at their house on the hill top
As the firestorm, approached fast and furious.
All the churches, schools and even the fairgrounds,
Were full of fleeing frightened evacuees.
They sheltered with a friend in Oroville
And prayed their home would survive.
Twenty-four hours later, they returned
Hopes high that their house survived.
As they drove down the road. Trees were gone.
Ranches were gone. Fences and houses gone.
The bridge was charred and still smoking.
The firefighters were dousing the hot spots.
They were waved through and went up a knoll.
They crested the hill and looked down.
The workshop was still standing and intact.
The redwoods were charred and blackened.
The house was gone. Only the chimney stood.
They stopped their cars and ran to each other.
Embracing and in shock, they cried for their loss.
All of their possesions gone, their history gone.
Their beautiful retirement home was gone.
It was a smoldering ruin of spent dreams.
This smokey panorama of destruction was Now.
The swiftness of events left them stunned.
All of the comforts of home gone.
A firestorm exploding and changing their lives.
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.
A plane crashes into the South Tower,
And fire engulfs the upper stories.
A tragedy of great proportion
Shown to TV audiences instantly.
A second plane flies into the North Tower,
As disbelieving audiences watch
This attack with flying airplanes,
Loaded with passengers shocks all.
A third plane headed for Washington,
Is retaken by courageous passengers.
It swoops down from the sky and crashes,
Killing all aboard in a fiery explosion.
The last of the hi-jacked airplanes
Is flown into the Pentagon,
Killing more innocents at work,
As the nation watches on TV.
On the fifth anniversary of the tragedy,
I mourn for the lives not lived,
I mourn for families still grieving,
I mourn for a nation seeking revenge.
POLITICAL; With the Bush Administration moving in the wrong direction in the "War on Terror", I started recording the events as they unfolded.
A jet pilot he did become,
Roaring through the Texas skies,
Enjoying the thrust of flight.
Never knowing the fear of battle.
We would've liked George to fight with us,
To fly those dangerous missions,
To show us, he can brave his fears,
Grit his teeth, and do the mission.
Now, it is a question that is asked:
George, we had a war and needed you,
What were you doing in Texas?
The Mexicans are quite friendly.
Hiding From the Viet Cong
Where was Bush in seventy-two?
Was he flying planes above Texas?
No, not in Texas in seventy-two,
He says he was flying in Alabama.
But, the General cannot recall a Bush
Flying in planes above Alabama skies.
No one else recalls a young Bush,
Doing his duty as obliged: anywhere.
Don't fret! There was a war on-going,
In Viet Nam for you young ones,
And young Bush knew a thing of two,
About hiding from the Viet Cong.
Now, we finally know,
Little Bush had a toothache,
Found his way to his base,
And went to the dentist.
But where, oh where was he,
When his meetings took place?
In the void of nowhere,
In no-man's land was he.
Expect him to show up
For his annual check-up,
And you would be waiting -
Until his discharge date.
Conversation with Laura
I know how to enjoy life,
Me and Mister Jim Beam,
We are friends for life:
Jolly companions we are.
That may be so right now,
But, you keep this up long,
And me and your seedlings,
Soon to sprout will be gone.
But I love you, my love.
And I love my children,
About to be born to us.
You cannot be serious.
It's the hard choice for you,
It will be my sweet arms,
And two loving children,
Or old Jim Beam for you.
The agony of it all,
To lose a friend like Jim,
I see creatures in the night:
I see visions all around.
George, you're getting sober,
You are just waking up.
That vision is daylight,
And I'm not a creature.
It's Jesus I truly see!
"No offense my darling."
I think I'm born again.
I think I see the light.
It was going to be a slow day,
A day with children in school,
When news began to form -
Towers down, Pentagon in flames.
The Secret Service fearful,
That the President was next.
Into Air Force One, high up,
Circling from here to there.
Next, the meetings and confusion.
Leadership is my calling:
Let's go with Iraq and Saddam,
He is a very evil enemy.
We'll get Osama first.
Do it quick, do it fast,
For we still need to rally,
And prepare for war with Iraq.
We'll tell the United Nations:
If they help, that'll be good,
If they don't, we'll go it alone.
The "Brits" will still be with us.
I'll make a speech to Congress,
And name the evil's we face:
Iraq, Iran, and North Korea.
They are evil, all, to the core.
I'm afraid of WMD:
Weapons of Mass Destruction,
They are evil, and they have them:
Weapons of Mass Destruction..
"Shock and Awe" is what we do,
Missiles and laser bombs,
Let's show the world our might.
Let them know democracy!
Pre-War Cabinet Meeting
Let's bring democracy to Baghdad.
We'll send the troops in heavy.
We'll smash the Iraqies quick.
We'll topple Saddam from his perch.
And after all that is completed,
You know, we'll still be in Baghdad,
And there are a lot of Iraqies there -
Who may not believe as you do.
We'll give them another view.
We'll show them a Constitution.
We'll give them an honest vote.
We'll spread democracy across the land.
Mister President, you may run into opponents.
These are Muslims you are converting.
The Koran, the book of their beliefs,
Does not evoke democracy for all.
We'll give them all democracy.
We'll give them a real Constitution.
We'll give them a chance to vote for it.
And by God, they had better like it.
Conversation Between Two Sheiks
Oil at twenty-two dollars.
That's not really too bad -
But, it sure would be nice
If we could jack-up the price!
There is a way to do that.
You just stir up the mullahs,.
Give them something to rant about,
To the masses in the Mosque.
How will that increase the price?
The mullahs always preach the Koran.
Where does religion become commerce?
I really don't see your logic.
The Americans and Jews are rich.
The mullahs can agitate a bit,
About exploitation and injustice.
They will get the activists moving.
Yes, I think I understand.
A few bombs in the right places,
Give them a little uncertainty,
About their future. Hike the price!
Yes, let's call it a "terror premium".
Let's say something like, ten dollars.
That is, ten dollars a barrel.
That will raise a lot of money.
These are big numbers we're talking.
Ten dollars is forty billion extra.
We spread that around a bit
In the Mosque and with the activists.
Yes, religious and social donations.
These are very worthy causes.
The people will applaud us:
"Allah be Praised, you are clever!"
Paradox in Chief
Back when George was younger,
There was a war in Viet Nam.
And young George found a way
Into the Texas National Guard.
He served his time in the Guard,
Never seeing the war in Viet Nam.
Others fought and died over there.
George, he stayed away from there.
As the Commander-in-Chief,
He is a preemptive warrior,
Starting wars here and there,
Having others fight for him.
George Bush is briefed daily
And counseled by the wise men.
The powers of the state exist
In the office of the President.
Yet, he must decide in wisdom,
The fate of other nations,
The fate of other peoples,
The fate of others future.
He preceives deadly threat.
He preceives a fearful enemy.
He preceives weapons they hold.
He preceives terror about to strike.
But, it just did not happen -
That his preception was right.
He erred in believing inner fears.
He erred in beginning the Iraq war.
Pro-Consul To Civil War
George W. Bush selects a leader.
He names L. Paul Bremer Ambassador
To the now conquered land of Iraq.
His authority is that of a pro-consul.
With little knowledge or experience,
The new consul studies the problem.
He spends two weeks absorbing knowledge,
And proceeds to Baghdad with portfolio.
Change is what he determined is needed.
He does away with the Baathist functionaries.
He disbands the Army and sends them home.
He rules from the "Green Zone" in Baghdad.
The bureaucracy in Iraq is disbanded and disinfranchised.
The force of order is disbursed and unemployed.
The Provisional Authority rules, but no one listens.
Al-Queda sees the opportunity and moves in.
The seeds of civil war are implanted,
With a disgrunted, disenfranchised Sunni tribe,
About to be lorded over by the Shite tribal chiefs.
Al-Queda interposes hate with deadly attacks.
An egg shell once broken no longer functions.
And so we struggle to impose law and order,
In the land where death and destruction rule,
Where power is imposed by tribal chiefs.
A purple finger does not make a democracy.
It takes law and order with real authority.
These orders do not exist in a civil war,
Where only one winner will rule as Master.
Who are these guys working for?
The price of oil is up, and rising.
We're calling up the Reserves to fight,
And looking for a way out of there.
The terrorists are multiplying,
And watching "Blackhawk Down",
Learning how to win against Americans.
Give me a break, and let me out of there.
Anymore victories like this one,
And we'll not be able to afford
To bring our troops back from there -
The cost of gas may just be too much.
Four Years Make A Difference
What a difference four years make.
With Clinton, we had a balanced budget.
We had a booming economy and Markets.
And we even had Monica and Hillary.
Now, we have George W. Bush at war,
Terrorists and bombing on the TV,
Constitution Admendments in the news,
And talk of delaying the election.
So much disruption, anger and fear.
The world and the news are depressing.
Where did he ever get these morbid people,
To tell me, terror is mine for years to come?
Requiem For The Fallen
Nine hundred apologies and counting;
To wives, children and mothers.
Nine Hundred fathers are grieving,
For the fallen warriors of this land.
The wounded number more than five thousand,
And the roadside bombs are still exploding,
Pieces blown off the bodies of our soldiers:
Recuperation will take many years.
The thousands of Iraqis killed also count.
They too are mourned by their families.
Collateral damage is a word for death.
Liberation is a word for occupation.
Mourn with me for our sons and daughters.
Mourn each day the young become the dying.
Mourn as we grieve for the fallen heroes -
In this war that we can no longer understand.
A suicide bomber explodes
His car in a marketplace.
The war in Iraq goes on:
Fighting, and killings, and terror.
A name not heard until today;
Baquaba losses fifty-eight,
Women and children, and men.
Lives ended while shopping for bread.
The victims are all Iraqis.
Victims must feed this cruel war.
Fear is the weapon of choice,
Explosions send the message.
"Get out, take your democracy!
We do not want your beliefs.
In this land, we are Muslims,
And we believe in Allah".
The bombs go off in Baghdad,
This time in front of the churches:
Death, injury and mayhem -
A warning to the Christians.
No one is safe from terror:
A car bomb detonates,
A rocket grenade explodes,
A mortar round is fired.
The aim is clear and profound,
Terror is the messenger,
Bombs, guns, and fear are weapons.
Muslims will rule in Iraq.
My brother says it's about oil.
We need it, we need a lot of it.
Our economy runs on oil, lots of it.
He believes we must stay in Iraq.
It was at twenty-two dollars -
Twenty-two dollars a barrel,
When George W. Bush was sworn in,
As President of the United States.
Now, it's at forty-five a barrel,
And I'm hearing fifty and sixty.
The price of oil has already doubled.
With four more years, will it double again?
A roadblock in Fullujah;
Military in uniform,
Stopping and checking all,
Some pulled over and taken.
They are taken over the hill.
They are forced to dig their graves,
And then executed for crimes -
Judged by false militia.
Imposters on the road judging:
All who pass through this town.
A town where laws are written
In the sand with victims blood.
Leaflets In Fullujah
They are handing out leaflets,
In the Fullujah town square.
It is an offer to young men:
Kill an American and collect.
Yes, that is true in Fullujah,
A bounty on the heads of soldiers.
Each dead American can earn,
For the killer, one thousand dollars.
"Nine Eleven" changed everything.
It is a global war we are in.
You are either for us, or against us,
And that is the way it will be.
Forget about your Constitution,
"We have the Homeland Security Act!"
We'll listen to your every word,
And we'll search your crevices.
Don't you fret about our signature
On the Geneva Convention!
It just doesn't apply to this war,
We need to get some information.
This is the great democracy.
This is the land of freedom.
This is the hope of all nations,
Isn't that enough for you?
The Heart Of A Believer
Four Americans attacked and killed,
Their bodies set on fire and burned.
The charred remains hung from a bridge,
TV cameras recording these events.
The terrorists in Fullujah rejoice.
"Go home Americans! Go home! Get out!"
A message sent in horror to the homeland,
We Muslims do not want you here.
The Marines are sent in, vowing revenge.
They kill the enemy in Fulllujah.
And they are ready to destroy the Mosque,
When words came from Washington: STOP!
The Fulllujah terrorists proclaim victory.
The Arab World once again can see,
The Americans have tanks and planes,
But, they lack the heart of a believer.
What a wonderful time:
A real President at last,
Four years of business,
Industry is getting rich.
Oh Yes! I do own industry;
Oil and gas way up,
Munitions and weapons booming,
War is such a big blast.
Forget about the Europeans!
Don't worry about Japan!
It is North Korea and Iran,
Keep your eyes on both of them.
Iraq Body Count
I'm hearing body count numbers.
It's beginning to sound familiar.
We killed more of them today,
Than they killed of us today.
A wonderful way to keep score
On the playing field, with balls.
This doesn't work on the battlefields.
Those are dead soldiers, really dead.
The object is to achieve victory,
A stalemate is a losing formula.
It is time for us to get out of there,
Victory can be declared, as we leave.
Echo Company Returns
Echo Company returned today,
After seven grueling months.
These Marines are veterans
Of fighting and losses in Iraq
They fought the street battles,
Oftentimes, house to house,
Always wary, infinitely alert:
To the enemy and death.
One hundred and fifty men,
All glad to see family and friends.
But, they left behind comrades,
Twenty-two died in these fights.
Their faces have an edge to them,
The leanness is easy to discern.
But, it's their eyes that have changed,
Darting about, always looking up.
The dream of it all, to build a skyscraper
In the deserts of old, an edifice called "democracy".
The great and the mighty Bush of Crawford Ranch,
The Crusader of "Christ", against evil forces of darkness.
To be born again into the world of glory,
To lead this nation against other men's evils.
This is the great vision of Bush "The Second",
Without regard to blood: glory is great hereafter.
Now, both sides believe in glory hereafter.
Both sides believe in God, evil is righteousness.
I'm alerted and frightened.
Buildings to be blow up
In New York City and Washington,
And even Newark, New Jersey.
The terrorists are out to get us.
Thay have done reconnaissance.
They have photographs and taken notes.
Thay have done diagrams of the streets.
This is serious, I'm getting scared.
The Government tells me "be calm",
After scaring me with colored alerts.
Don't they have a clue, I'm paranoid.
HUH! What do you mean, this is old stuff?
That this was all done before Nine-Eleven,
And found on some disc in Pakistan.
"Government, I'm blocking your pop-ups!"
The battle rages for three weeks.
Bomb blasts shake the city,
As war planes bomb the rebels,
And smoke rises into the night sky.
They will fight to the last bullet.
They will die for their beliefs.
They will defend their temple,
It is sacred to their bellief.
With tanks sitting just beyond
And the final assault prepared,
Word is received from London:
Peace is possible, stop the fighting.
The Grand Ayotollah
Demands the surrender of the Mosque,
The departure of both Armies,
The restitution of peace.
And so the Shites have a victory.
They rule the holy city of Najaf.
The image of the temple in flames,
Is enough to stop the tanks.
As Nine-Eleven approaches again,
The third anniversary of terror -
As seen on TV screens in our homes,
The horror and terror have not faded.
The images of war and more terror
Constantly flash across TV screens:
Baghdah, fighting in the streets with tanks,
Russia, school children bombed and burned.
Spain has been terrorized and changed:
It now has a new government due to terror.
Executions of workers trying to help victims,
Are shown and applauded on Arab TV.
Another sad milestone does approach:
One thousand dead military in Iraq.
One or one thousand, the price is too high,
For decisions made on false information.
It is time to rethink our strategy.
It is time to rethink our endeavor.
To support democracy is real, to force it;
This a dream, which has become a nightmare.
The Nine-Eleven Report is out:
Not only couldn't they connect the dots,
It looks like they swallowed them raw.
I hope they didn't get indigestion.
We definitely have a big problem.
We are organized to fight the cold war,
And the terrorists are not the Russians,
Wake-up in the theatre, the cold war ended!
It is time to reorganize and move on,
An Intelligence Czar in the White House
Where information can be shared each day,
And we'll finally know, what we know.
Oh, it is definitely the right time:
One thousand days and counting since Nine-Eleven.
Time does go by, when you are terrorized.
I hope they know, that we know, they don"t know.
I see them in my nightmares,
The four horseman of the apocalypse:
Bush, Cheney, Tenet and Rumsfeld,
With their lances dripping in blood.
They tear the fabric of countries
With their terrible weaponology.
They do havoc, death and disruption.
They capture evil and turn him loose.
Yet the villain they have proclaimed
Is still free and still our enemy.
These four horsemen have destroyed
The wrong village in their mad gallop.
Spiral Into The Abyss
The Lords of Politics
Have arisen in this land,
To do havoc and fear.
It is the way of demons.
Look at the future and see
A nation in dark despair,
Fearing shadows and enemies,
Conjured from a Caesar's words.
It is a false thesis,
A path leading to darkness,
A road winding down to where?
This path leads us no where.
Look up at the mountain.
Fear not the heights above.
Rise with courage to fight:
Not your fear - but the enemy.
A hostage in orange jumpsuit
Pleading for his very life,
With terrorists dressed in black,
Flashed upon your TV screen.
The horror to come is known:
Another victim whose pleas go unheard,
Another head dismembered from a hostage,
Another threat to do the same again.
This form of intimidation really works.
People are frightened by fanatics,
Who practice cruelty without remorse,
And are declared heroes by extremists.
The terrorists play off our emotions,
Using TV as a tool to intimidate us.
To win, we must become more terrible.
This is not possible in a democracy.
George keeps telling us all,
To trust him, he knows best.
He is our War President.
And war will last forever.
George didn't mention deficits.
His grades are low in any case.
He spends all our money, plus some,
And still manages tax cuts.
George tells us he is creating jobs.
But, he didn't say in which country.
The wages are down all around,
And the cost of gas keeps going up.
George says we are winning the war
Against terrorists, and hunting them down.
But Bin Laden is still out here,
And I'm getting tired of terror alerts.
George, he says all about our wants,
And he promises all we want from him.
Just like he did last election:
Before deceit, war, and deficits.
Conversation With W
We really need four more years,
My agenda is unfinished.
Actually, it has only begun.
I have unfinished business.
Mister President, do not fear.
We are the incumbant party,
And the public abhors change.
Get out their and show confidence.
You know, my Dad was confident,
And he was voted out in four.
I'm not convinced that'll work,
I would like a bit more edge.
We'll give the public fear, always works:
Fear of destabilizing your war.
Terror is everyone's fear now,
An alert just before the election.
Yes, and maybe fear of job loss,
And we'll talk-up tax increases,
And best of all, fear of changing.
That's what frightens me the most.
America, you have voted
And selected more of the same:
More terror, more war, more lies,
With deficits and divide.
This Bush will not adapt.
This Bush is not one to change.
You got what you voted for,
You'll get much more of the same.
One Thousand Dead
Another milestone on the road.
Another roadside bomb exploded.
Another suicide bomber detonated.
Another dead American soldier.
This road to democracy in Iraq
Is a road froth with hidden dangers,
As the tombstones of America's best,
Now number more than one thousand.
Yes, one thousand killed in Iraq,
And many more with grievous wounds.
This war has not ended in Iraq,
It is being fought every day.
The cost keeps mounting in dead.
It is time to democracize the war.
It is time for Iraqies to fight,
Against terrorists hidden in their homes.
In the streets of Fullujah,
It is house to house fighting.
Oftentimes, buildings are cleared
One room at a time, a tough job.
In the cellar of one building,
A slaughter house is discovered,
Where terrorists cut victims throats,
While filming terror for TV viewing.
The insurgents hide in the city,
Which once sheltered many thousands.
A sniper in a minaret fires.
A rocket man launches a missile.
All must be taken down, now!
No more waiting for murderers.
No more waiting for kidnappers.
It is time to kill in Fullujah.
Democracy In Fullujah
Terrorists are headquartered
In the city of Fullujah,
Forty miles west of Baghdah,
The city known for its domes.
They have kidnapped and killed,
Innocents for executioon,
On TV cameras in this war.
They fight to intimidate.
And so the soldiers and marines,
They go into Fullujah,
And they impose their might -
To eliminate these terrorists.
The battles last for two weeks.
It is sector by sector.
It is house to house.
Each room is a conquest.
In the end, the rebels are killed.
The city is scarred and burning.
The dead bodies feed the wild dogs.
Democracy has come to Fullujah.
Christmas In Mosul
In the Iraqi city of Mosul,
It was a brilliant sunny day.
The weather, warmer than usual.
The soldiers lined-up for lunch.
A rocket hits the mess tent,
The blast is horrific and deadlly,
With shrapnel tearing through flesh.
Some crawl away, others cannot.
The dead number more than twenty.
The wounded are more numerous.
The unit had one month to go,
Before thay rotated back home.
Too many paid with the ultimate price,
While waiting in line for chicken.
The cost of democracy is high,
When it is resisted with rockets and bombs.
Terror Or Democracy - 12/19/2004
It was a bloody Sunday in Iraq.
In Karbala, a car bomb detonates
In front of the main bus station,
Killing more than a score of innocents.
In Najaf, it is even more deadly,
Where a funeral procession is targeted.
The explosion kills more than fifty,
And wounds three times that many.
In Baghdad, during morning rush-hour,
Attackers ambush an election official.
They overwhelm his entourage,
Drag him from his car, and execute him.
Arab TV shows tape of ten Iraqis,
They have been kidnapped, and beg.
They beg for their lives in a recording.
Their crime is working for the Americans.
The Shites are the targeted groups.
The elections are what terrorists fear.
They seek to provoke retaliation.
They prefer terror to democracy.
Mister President, we are winning in Iraq.
The country is poised to have elections,
The first free elections ever held there.
Soon, they will have a democratic state.
When do you think we can get our of there?
So many troops, and all that equipment,
The costs are starting to impact my budget.
You know, I want to focus on the economy.
Well, Mister President, that is difficult to say:
There are unknowns we just don't know about.
These insurgents and terrorists seem to multiply,
And bombs keep exploding, Iraqis don't cooperate.
Well, I want us out of there after the election.
The American people lack our enthusiam for this war.
They are beginning to ask too many questions.
These news conferences are not pleasant anymore.
Mister President, this domocracy in the Middle-East,
There seems to be resistence to this thesis.
They do have a history of despots and kings.
Perhaps, we can appoint a "Military Czar".
The year ends with an explosion.
The dead soldiers number too many.
More than thirteen hundred killed,
Thousands more greviously wounded.
It is no longer news in America
When a soldier or a marine is killed.
It is just the price we must pay -
For bringing democracy to Iraq.
It is the President who lead us there,
To the ancient lands of the Arabs,
Telling us about weapons he imagined,
Telling us about fictitious al-Qaeda links.
Perhaps, he was misled by bad advice.
But now, the truth has become clear.
Should he not, tell us the real truth.
We stumbled into Baghdad by error.
Now, we must get out of these lands,
Where we are not welcome or wanted.
The rhetoric of imposing democracy,
Is a mirage in the Presidents mind.
They prefer rigor mortis before democracy.
They prefer martyrdom before freedom.
They resist change we try to impose,
Upon their lands of the Mohammed faith.
The mullahs tell them this is their duty.
The mullahs tell them we are infidels.
The mullahs tell them to kill the infidels,
And expel him from the lands of the Prophet.
And we cannot understand this belief,
Because it is foreign to our own beliefs.
Mohammed's words as written in the Koran,
They are the words of God as the mullahs preach.
I reread the Constitution,
And the Declaration of Independence,
I'm looking for the legality -
Of spreading democracy globally.
No where can I find a mandate.
Even the United Nations Charter,
It fails to order up democracy.
Without the laws of man, there is no order.
Who gave us the mandate to impose
A form of government we enjoy,
Upon others who may not be blessed,
By geography, resources, and immigration.
We are unique in our developement,
As are all countries in this world.
Democracy is wonderful for us,
But, it may not be best for all.
It is better to help others find the path,
Than to push them down the road.
A mandate made by President Bush,
Is not a mandate from God above.
The Deadliest Day
Thirty marines and one sailor,
Flying a routine security mission,
Over the northern Iraqi desert,
In a storm, their helicopter crashes.
All are listed killed in action,
Four more marines killed in an ambush,
Add two soldiers to the dead tally.
All killed in action today in Iraq.
The butcher's bill keeps rising:
More than fourteen hundred killed,
And ten thousand greviously wounded.
The families of too many mourn.
The President holds a news conference,
And he talks of freedom and democracy,
He speaks of staying the course,
On the deadliest day of the war.
The wheel of life turns no more,
For those who have been killed today.
Their is no staying the course,
When you are dead and gone forever.
Turn Back The Sun
It is not that I didn't make mistakes,
I made mistakes and then some.
I had advisors who just got it wrong.
We had intelligence which was stupid.
You know, we were not paying attention
To terror and terrorists in 2001.
My idea was to let them kill each other.
I never thought that they would attack us.
And yes, the General in charge warned me.
He said we would need many more troops
To occupy and to control the Iraqis.
I just didn't believe him, and he retired.
Yes, disbanding the Iraqi Army,
That seemed sensible when we were doing it.
In retrospect, it too proved stupid.
Getting it right is not as easy as it looks.
I could go on ad-infinitum,
You really have no idea how bad it is.
But, this job of President is really tough,
And I really need to be on vacation.
Clash Of Civilizations
A policy of anti-terrorism,
Is the tool of the terrorists,
In this clash of civilizations.
The USA is the conqueror of Iraq.
The terrorists use this thesis
To recruit more terrorists.
The TV images of the USA
Are of a destroyer in action.
The Arabs believe what they see.
They believe the mullahs condemnation.
They believe the TV commentators,
Who say we are killers of innocents.
The policy and the actions fail.
They fail because we are a democracy.
We have a different set of rules.
We are restricted from imposing.
The terrorists exploit our weaknesses.
They use images and terror attacks.
They believe the phase "Allah is great!",
As we believe, we are righteous.
Requiem For Order
In the land of the Arabs,
It is the Lords and the Mullahs
Who dictate and manipulate -
The people who believe in the Koran.
We, of a different culture.
We, of a different religion.
We, of a different philosophy,
We try to impose our beliefs.
Our belief in democracy is real,
Yet it fails to implant in Arab lands,
Where the Lords and Mullahs unite -
To retain their hold on the people.
Render your grief for the Arabs,
Who journey toward a civil war,
Where uncertainty will rule,
And anger and fear will preside.
The butcher's bill keeps mounting,
With twenty three hundred dead,
And many more greviously wounded:
Roadside bombs dismember victims.
Three years or thirty years,
Nobody seems to know.
The Bush Presidency ends soon,
Another three years of unknowns.
This war in Iraq is in disaray,
We have not one more friend
In the whole of the Middle-East.
The only democrats are Hamas.
Our treasure and our warriors
Are wasted, with no progress in sight.
Democracy doesn't root in a land
That is breeding religious fanatics.
Our departure is going to happen.
Only the timing is in question.
Better to admit a terrible mistake,
Than to continue endless failure.
Conversation With Condi
We need to find the right way:
Lebanon bombed and burning,
Iraqie bombs detonating daily,
And Iran still building nukes.
These are problems Mister President
We knew this wasn't going to be easy.
These are birth pangs of democracy,
In our vision of a new Middle-East.
And what about the Palestines,
They have always been a real problem?
Nothing anyone does satisfies them.
They still want all their land back.
Not all problems have solutions,
But eventually, this will subside,
And we can let Israel solve that one.
They are the one getting bombed.
I know, I should stay the course,
This is my moment in history.
But it really is not fair -
Bill Clinton didn't have these problems.
The President talks of legacy.
I hear the roll call of death.
He predicts history will vindicate.
I see too many without limbs.
The President ignores the voters will.
I believe we live in a democracy.
He talks of sending more troops to war.
I think he is grasping for a miracle.
The President is arrogant in his office.
I see the sum of his war policy.
He is prideful of his own illusions.
I see the reality of a failed effort.
The President is the Commander-in-Chief.
I only cast my vote and my voice.
He serves the people of this democracy.
I see a President who fails to lead.
Mad King George
Civil war is rife in the Iraqi capital.
Religious factions are fighting each other.
Congress debates the President's war.
George W. says he is a leader.
The history of errors linger:
No weapons of mass destruction,
No pre-war Al--Qaeda bases.
George W. says the war was justified.
The majority of nations opposed this war,
And warned us of fragmentation.
Now, we are in the middle of a civil war.
George W. says democracy isn't easy.
The voters refuted his war policy.
Congress stands up and censors.
The pundits turn on the President.
George W. says he doesn't read polls.
The butcher's bill is vivid on TV -
Explosions of bombs and mass killing.
The Iraqis want more guns and bullets.
George W. say he can trust al-Malike.
Conversation With God
I know that you are testing me.
It would be easy to change course.
But I know you want your message
To be spread throughout the world.
I believe that if we give them democracy,
We will open the way for conversion.
And they will find the path to Jesus,
You, my Saviour and Almighty Father.
I will be firm against false beliefs.
I will be firm against my enemies.
I will stand true to my faith.
That, I promise you, My Father.
On this Easter Sunday, I atone:
For all the mistakes I have made,
For all the lives I have forfeited,
For I am human in my endeavors.
Forgive me, for I am a true believer,
And I know that I will be welcomed,
For I acted in sincere faith,
That, only the righteous have salvation.
George W. Bush's war without end,
Is fragmenting after four years.
A civil war is in progress,
And terrorists range over Iraq.
The US troops are hunkering:
Doing their duty as required,
Each man and woman focused,
On surviving this current tour.
The President wants no restrictions.
He believes that he is in charge.
Yet the people voted out his party,
And a new party is in Congress.
Both the House and the Senate
Have appropriated funds for the troops.
But, they wanted to see an exit,
They want this war to end soon.
The President blusters with threats,
"I will veto a bill with restrictions."
The man is about to veto a bill,
That will end the war without end.
Twenty four million Iraqies
Lived in Iraq before the invasion.
Our planes, tanks and troops,
Quickly defeated their military.
We had hopes of being welcomed,
And at first, they welcomed us.
But, with mismanagement,
And brute force, we turned them.
Now, they want us to leave.
They have had enough of democracy.
Two million have fled the country.
Two million are internally displaced.
Iraq in Civil War is burning.
Explosions are part of daily life.
Hundreds of thousands are dead.
Grevious injuries are too common.
We talk of collateral damage,
The price of learning democracy.
Each life lost is a unique tragedly.
The Iraqi people are learning to hate.
Size '10' for Bush
In the last weeks of his Presidency,
George W. Bush visits the "Green Zone" in Baghdad.
This surprise visit to occupied Iraq
Is his last chance to spin history.
He confers with Nouri Al-Malliki.
The Prime Minister and President Bush
Hold a joint press conference
To highlight the successes they've had.
Bush's opening statement is ending
When a reporter stands and throws a shoe,
It flies toward the President, he ducks,
A second shoe flies, another duck.
The reporter shouts for all to hear:
"This is from the widows, the orphans,
And those who were killed in Iraq.
This is your farewell kiss, you dog."
In the culture of the Middle-East,
Throwing a shoe is a sign of extreme contempt.
It was Bush's last trip to the war zone.
Those shoes carried the anger of many Iraqies.
The Age Of George W. Bush
The Twenty First Century -
Brought us President George W. Bush,
In a contested close election,
Settled by one Supreme Court vote.
The most powerful nation ever,
And optimism was our norm.
The world looked to us for leadership.
The world followed our economic engine.
The infamous 9/11 attack,
Toppled the World Trade Center towers.
Three thousand dead in New York City,
And George W. declared war on terrorists.
The initial success in Afganistan,
Was followed by a faulty attack
Against Saddam Hussein in Iraq,
Where treasure and lives were spent.
The prestige of America is waning,
As we pushed our democracy agenda,
As we wasted our treasure in war,
As the President failed to function.