No One’s Leader

People get shot and you all condone it
Well the time’s now come for you to own it.
The talk’s gotten rough, you need to tone it
Down, don’t you understand.

Murder’s all around and bombs in the mail,
Yet you sit in your palace where you never do fail
To turn your head and don’t even wail,
For the stuff you incite, yes, you and your band.

People get hurt from the weather and the fire,
The country is crying for you to inspire
Instead of calling people names and getting down in the mire,
You need to get moving, get your head out of the sand.

You cross the oceans and you cross the sea,
You say you’re talking peace but you’re not fooling me,
You talk a good game but you’re really on your knees,
You need to get serious and you need to take a stand.

It’s time for you to act, it’s time for you to lead,
You can’t seem to do it; you’ve got your ego to feed.
You won’t help the world by not taking heed
To the people who elected you to run this mighty land.

Now we all know you’re never going to change it,
And your life is going fine, so why re-arrange it?
Your priorities are only about yourself, why exchange it
For a better life for the people…you’ll never understand.



Rain falls silently on the lawn,

Whispering of cold weather on the way.

It warns of a late autumn snow,

With graying skies on this wet, cold day.


Rain continues to fall, not helping the grass,

That is now browning without a warm day.

It’s lifeless for the want of little-boy feet,

As they trampled it down with summertime play.


Rain falls on the town but the cold feels right

As Christmastime somehow cheers up the street.

The Salvation Army girl rings her little  bell,

While busy shoppers and the cold rain meet.


Rain falls on the buildings, but they don’t seem to mind

It runs in streams off their strong roof tops.

The cold dare not enter where people browse,

It just dances on windows and doors and no one stops.


Rain falls on the oceean and little ringlets form,

Our boat starts to sway in the cold, rainy breeze.

The rain once came heavily as it does from a storm,

But it’s autumn now over calmer, flat seas.


Rain falls in my heart on a day like this,

And I do fear yet another rain tomorrow.

But the raindrops will fall in a warmer place

Than the lawn, the sea, the town, and its sorrow.


Rain falls on two people so much in love.

Rain falls on hearts and helps love to grow.

Rain falls on families from the heavens above

Rain falls on our loved ones and others we know.


Rain falls on our country and storms may brew,

But our nation lives on in spite of the few

That have led us to the brink of hell

But now we’ve awakened, with a story to tell.

Presidents With Whom I’d Like To Share A Beer…

George Washington: Because of his desire to serve the new nation as president instead of as the often-suggested king.

Thomas Jefferson: Because of his intellectual capacity and ingenuity.

James K. Polk: Because he was once president of UNC.

Zachary Taylor: Because of his name. I like the name “Zachary.”

Abraham Lincoln: Because he believed in one union rather than two nations constantly at war.

Ulysses S. Grant: Because I’ve only known a couple of real failures in my life. I want to know what to watch out for.

Chester A. Arthur: Because aside from a few scholars, no one has ever heard of him. I’d like to learn to live in obscurity.

William Howard Taft: Because of his service as a Supreme Court Justice. Also, I’d probably ask him drive since his size would allow him to drink more without going over the legal limit.

Grover Cleveland: Because he was elected twice…a feat beyond comparison. And his image appears on a $500 bill.

Theodore Roosevelt: Because I’d like to see how to enter the armed forces as a Colonel instead of a buck private.

Herbert Hoover: Once again, I’ve never known many people who failed almost on purpose.

Franklin Roosevelt: To see how he could have been elected four times in a row.

Dwight Eisenhower: To learn how to lead without yelling.

John Kennedy: Bostonians like beer.

Lyndon Johnson: To ask him why he took the oath of office aboard AF-1 when he was already president according to the constitution’s provision of presidential succession.

Richard Nixon: I’ve only known a few crooks in my life. He’d be one more.

Jimmy Carter: Because he’d leave all the beer for me.

Bill Clinton: To find out why….

George W. Bush: To find out how to go AWOL without penalty.

Barack Obama: To learn leadership against all odds in a nation bent on his destruction and to learn how to clean up a real economic mess.

Whoever is after Trump: To learn how to clean up REAL messes.

A Little Pleigh on Werds

If rain washes the earth, then it must be good,

But too much rain can cause a great flood,

And just enough rain helps grow our food.

And the clouds warp around the earth like a hood.


I play with words so I’ll learn from them much,

Because words don’t always rhyme, as such.

Take the first stanza of this verse and you’ll see

Three different ways to pronounce “o-o-d.”


There are many more variances you can find,

Too many it might just blow your mind

To see how many words there are

That are spelled alike but from rhyming are far.


Like tear and tear or read and read.

Such are the words this language doesn’t need.

What if you came from came from foreign lands?

Could you learn English with its strange demands?


And some worlds sound alike all right,

But are spelled as differently as day and night.

Like write and right or hare and hair,

And not to mention fare and fair?


How about these for a verbal twist?

The difference there is between mist and missed.

Site and sight and cite, or would and wood,

You’re sure to get a stare down the stair as you should.


There are heir and air and grey and gray,

All sure to confuse us most of the day.

But in English, the meaning takes precedence over presidents

And helps us all to be less dense so our brains have fewer dents.


Who invented this terrible tongue

Where the “Es” are silent as a bell not rung?

And “I” before “E” holds true so they say

Unless you can’t tell a “C” from a “K.”


Now if I haven’t caused you to forget,

We’re still got a lot to learn even yet.

Like when to use “Y” as a vowel is cheesy.

But when “H” is silent as in “herb”—not as easy.


Thank you all for your attention.

This poem, after all, is just an invention

To let you know how tough it can be,

To learn our language from “A” to “Z.”


And make no mistake for I’m out of time,

There is a way to make a quick rhyme.

Just think of all the words that you can,

Put them together in a frying pan,

Heat to a boil and before you know it,

You’ll be writing like a seasoned poet.


If I had money, I’d still live like I do.

I’d still dream and hope and imagine things.

I’d still love you and try to please you

But in the doing, I’d still feel the stings.


If I had riches, I still find pleasure in the grass.

I’d still love Saturdays. I’d still be sad

To see Sunday nights as they slowly pass.

On Monday mornings, I’d recall the fun we had.


If I had diamonds, I’d give them to you,

And share with those who are poor.

I’d feed the hungry people, and from you,

I’d never ask for more.


If I had money, I’m sure I’d still be crying

Because the world we know is dying,

While we know we’re only lying,

And the poor, we’re still denying,

Them our great world and all its store.

The Night

The night is so still and peaceful.

A dog barks breaking the silence.

I could hear the dandelions release their

Seeds into the slight breeze.


My hands shield my eyes from the shadow that creeps

To my bedside in the form of a dozen

Shimmering leaves answering

The evening’s hot breath.


Touch me now as I run and hide, searching for refuge.

The sheets are giant clouds that engulf me.

Total rest tonight will not find me.

I’ll wait for morning to close my tired eyes

That have seen too much of this horrid night.


I live with fear again the next night.

The fingers of death will touch me too soon.

Those icy, frosty, fingers that cut off life,

From even the young, who deserve it so much less

Than the aged whose time was spent sinning and

Scorning, and wagering with evil.


I survey my life and beg for one more day to say

The things I feel. My fitful desire is to live one more day.

Only then could you know me and what my life is like.

August Night

Last night’s shadows were so deep and

So full of stillness.

The night was filled with intense August heat.

I could not sleep.

I stood beside the bed. The bare sheet had

Caused my legs to sweat profusely.

Even that sheet was too heavy on a night so warm.


Stirring outside the window was an insect,

Maybe a beetle, making a sound not normally audible

For human ears.

On any other night, I would not notice,

But it’s steady, scraping sound was like an instrument

Cutting glass.


The breeze had ceased, but the breath of small clouds overhead,

Somehow cooled my body, my perspiring body.

Naked in form, shadows of the leaves moved quietly across the lawn

Outside, ghostlike in the silvery, moonlight night.


No sleep until dawn when the breeze resumed.

A few moments later the burning sun would scorch the grass,

I would beg for rain and droplets of relief.

But the sky would not let go of its bounty

And I’d knew I’d face another hot, August night.

The Lady

A lady lives down the road on the right,

And when I go by, there’s not even a light

In that house all covered with tears

That shows the sorry of a thousand lonely years.


She never comes out, that lady we heard

Has lived like an insect ever since in occurred.

The death of the man she loved so much,

That man known only to memories and such.


But the house still stands in need of repair,

And the lady still sits in quiet despair,

She stays inside as if she could hide,

From the world as it turns, from the joy outside.


The lady was seen years back, they say,

By two young men who were passing one day.

They said she was old and haggard and worn,

Full of the hatred, the woe and the scorn.

Of a thousand years of loneliness,

And a week of two of drunkenness,

And a day perhaps of happiness,

So long gone, left now with the emptiness,

Known by all the folks who have heard,

Of that woman so sad ever since it occurred.

The Distance

The room seems empty where though we are

Here together within.

A strange quietness falls

Erasing the laughter we once knew.


Dark, cold feelings like stones,

Block the light. We are apart now,

I gaze hopelessly at the floor.


I hope a word will come to mind

To open a window.

But no words come to me and I still sit here

Seeing your fingers in aimless motion.


Embarrassed by the strange silence,

I turn to the wall to examine a shadow.

You turn in your chair and open

the evening paper, again.


You move catlike, your eyes scan the page.

But you don’t see the words before you.

Your eyes fill with tears.

I pretend not to notice.


The lump in my throat dissolves

As I ask, “How was your day?”

Then you nod in the affirmative while I

Arise victorious over the silence.

“For What? we ask.”

Been through one war,

Can’t stand no more,

Better just close the door,

But then we have to keep score,

Of all the spilling blood and gore,

That young men keep on dying for,

It’s a wonder we don’t go mad.


It’s a life of heartache,

All the children they take,

To kill for only killing’s sake,

I swear it such a grave mistake

To keep on ‘til our spirits break

And all the time we know it’s fake

But we keep fighting. It’s so sad.


We keep sending all our best,

To save the world for nothing less,

Than making richer those who invest,

In killing the good and then arrest,

The ones who show they’re unimpressed,

And preach there shouldn’t be unrest,

In a world where the good go bad.


One day we’re gonna wake up and learn

That fighting’s just for those who earn.

They look at the rest of us and turn

Their heads and then they spurn

The very men who fight and burn

For the almighty dollar—some don’t return

And the whole world says “so sad.”


The money’s tight and we all know that,

War’s a sure way to keep ‘em all fat,

Then we go and elect a dirty rat,

Who says he’ll keep you safe and all of that

Crap they say when they pass the hat,

But it all ends when they come to bat,

And the nation find’s out it’s been had.