It was in the earlier part of November, 2005 when I was called to the garrison HQ to receive an emergency Red Cross message informing me that my grandfather had passed away. I was in my third year of service as a direct contractor to the Army and my duty station was in Iraq. More specifically, I was at Tallil AFB near the city of An Nasiriyah. I was granted an emergency leave so that I could go back to the US to be with my family so I stowed my gear, packed my duffel and made the long trip home. This was the first time I would make this trip, but I’m getting ahead of myself so let me back up a bit. You see, my grandfather had served in the Second World War, actually both of them had. They were brothers. PFC Eddie Kassab, the one I’m speaking about here, had survived WWII through some pretty tough odds, including being on the third wave of the Normandy invasion at D-Day where thousands had died during the beach head assault. His brother, SFC Joseph Kassab, who married my grandmother, was killed in that war, He was a bombardier and his plane was shot down during the Guadalcanal campaign. It wasn’t until 27 years later that the wreckage of the aircraft and remains were found and recovered. When Joseph died leaving behind his young wife and new born son, Eddie began looking after her, sending home money for her and the boy, my father. They wrote back and forth to eachother after the dissappearance of Joseph and when he returned to the US after the war they courted and were eventually married. Joseph was laid to rest with the rest of his flight crew in Arlington with full military honors. Eddie, who died much later in life, was also afforded a military service there. That was my first time being in Arlington National Cemetery, a place reserved for men and women who had served their country in a military capacity. It is difficult to describe just how immense and powerful that place is, the impact you have on your life just from standing on those grounds is indescribable. If I had to try I would say it’s a mixed feeling of Honor, pride, sorrow, and a profound sense of loneliness. There are row upon row of white marble markers spanning miles of emerald green grass and broad shade trees. The markers themselves are simple, nothing fancy, but the respect they command is beyond contestation. There are also wall vaults for those who were cremated, one of these would become Eddie’s final resting place. The US Army's honor guard performed his service, while a trumpeter played “Taps” and his flag was folded and presented on behalf of a grateful nation to my father who Eddie raised as his own son. In the distance a 21 gun salute was given by seven riflemen firing three shots each. It would be the only time in my life that I saw my father cry. We took the time after Eddie’s service to walk to Joseph’s grave marker as well, passing thousands of other markers and I found myself wondering how many of these people were forgotten by the years. How many of them left behind young children. Were they killed in combat? How many of them were laid to rest with a grave full of unfulfilled dreams? The sacrifices they made weighed heavily upon me. It was a feeling I would carry with me long after I had left that place.
Years had passed and I found myself still working in Iraq for the US Army, I was stationed at Camp Taji this time, on the edge of Sadr City, a real dust bowl. I was in my eighth year of service when I was again called to Garrison HQ, another emergency Red Cross message had come through informing me that my Father had passed away. It was December 29th 2010. For hours afterward it felt as if I had been punched in the gut. I called my Mom as soon as I could to make sure she was ok and to see if there was anything she needed before making arrangements for yet another emergency leave. I again stowed my gear, packed my duffel and headed out. Now, it’s only fair to give you an idea of whom I’m talking about here, my Father, Jan, had been a Navy man and had been stationed on submarines as well as destroyer class ships during the Vietnam War. He signed up for service when he was just 18 years old and when he left the Navy he went directly into the Maitland Fire Department in central Florida and stayed there for many years. Eventually he expanded his training becoming the 80th paramedic in the state as well as a certified rescue diver and instructor. More importantly, he was a great father who raised two boys as a father should and later in life, he was a pretty good drinking buddy. His teachings and advice have helped me through some of the toughest times in my life. It was because of his prior military service that he was also awarded full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. There was a waiting list of about 8 weeks at the time because of the high volume of casualties from the wars in the Middle East so it wasn’t until February of 2011 that he was finally laid to rest. This time it was the US Navy’s honor guard who performed his service. I remember it well; they stood in their dress whites throughout the ceremony in the biting cold as the wind whipped by mercilessly.  The honor and discipline in these men was no less than awe inspiring and through my sadness I couldn’t help but feel an amazing sense of pride for who my father was during his life. We all stood as a trumpeter again played “Taps” to the folding of my Father’s flag which was presented to my Mom on behalf of a grateful nation after a 21 gun salute was ordered in the distance. My Father’s remains were also placed in a wall vault that became his final resting place; his marker being only about 20 feet from Eddie’s marker in the adjacent wall and even though it was freezing that day, we took a little extra time to visit Eddie and Joseph again. Walking the grounds of that place again awakened all the feelings I had felt the first time, probably even more so. Again, I have to tell you that words couldn’t accurately describe how that place makes you feel. The grass had turned brown by now but was still immaculately manicured, and the precision placement of the grave markers was flawless. There were thousands of names that dated all the way back to the American Civil War. I went also with my brother to pay my respects at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It was an impressive mausoleum that is guarded twenty four hours a day by the US Army’s horror guard.  After it was all said and done and we had left Arlington and met as a family, my Mom, my Brother and his family, myself and my family and some close friends to remember him for a while over some food and drinks, and though nobody seemed to really have any appetite we still stayed there for hours. That was the first time in eight years that I had seen my Brother and would be the last time I saw him alive, but that part comes later. Eventually we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, each having a very long way to travel back home and I had to get ready to go back to Iraq, heavy hearted or not.
I had only been back in theater (that means deployment) for a few months when I was reassigned to Al Asad AB as my permanent duty station. It was a place in the middle of nowhere and was originally a Marine base but transferred to Army and Air Force some time in 2010. I had made some good friends there, settled in and finally started coming back to myself when I received a message from my brother’s wife asking me to call her, said it was important. Thinking back on it now, I remember feeling a little angry that she wouldn’t tell me on email. Internet I had in my room, but a phone…well I’m no general and I had already settled in for the night. It was about 21:30 hrs. (9:30 p.m.) on a night in late July so I got dressed and made the quarter mile walk to my office where I could use the phone, cursing under my breath the whole time. It took me about 20 minutes just to find my phone card in my cluttered desk drawer, but when  I finally did amongst more unsavory mutterings I made the call. She answered quickly enough but her voice sounded strained so I calmed down and asked her what was going on, I figured something wasn’t right so she didn’t need me jumping her case on top of it. It was then that she told me my Brother’s body had been found in his home in Whiteville NC. He had been having a hard time with depression since our Father passed as well as marital problems and he had made the decision to take his own life at the age of 36 leaving behind his Wife, Stepson and Daughter who was only 5 at the time. I was blindsided to say the least, no one saw this coming, and he left no real reason as to why so there still is no closure, no understanding. I was angry… no, I was furious! But I’m getting ahead of myself again. She had called me not only to inform me of what had happened, but also to ask if I had Mom’s phone number because she didn’t have it and didn’t know how to get in touch with her to tell her. I told her not to worry about it and that I’d take that on my shoulders and get back to her. It had only been five months since we laid our Father to rest and to say I dreaded making that phone call was a ridiculous understatement. It was easily one of the toughest things I ever had to do, but it had to be done all the same so I dug Mom’s number out of my wallet…and stared at it…I don’t know how long but it felt like a long time. What else could I do? What could I say? It’s not like I had an instruction booklet for delivering bad news and this was as bad as it gets. After a few deep breaths I dialed her number and decided to take the direct approach. She answered the phone and we exchanged hellos, and I asked her what she was doing. She was out shopping with Robbie at the Tractor Supply Co. He was a longtime family friend and all around good guy. I told her that I had some pretty bad news and asked if she could find a place to sit down there, but she told me it was ok to just tell her what happened so I did exactly that. I gave her all the information I had at the time, I didn’t know how to sugar coat it so I didn’t. She took it pretty well up front, not breaking down until later that evening. My Brother, SPC Troy Kassab, had enlisted in the US Army with our Father’s permission when he was only 17 years old. He was a combat medic assigned to Ft. Carson in Colorado before transferring to the 82nd Airborne Division in Ft Brag NC. He deployed to Cuba among other deployments overseas before being attached to a Ranger Unit as their medic and doing other deployments that he never would talk about much. After the army he lived in NC where he worked in restaurants while attending school on the G.I bill and volunteering on the Hickory Rescue Squad as an EMT. He eventually completed school in Winston Salem NC where he got his PA degree in general practice. Troy was a self-educated, brilliant man who wasn’t perfect but who is? He saved lives in the Army, and then continued to do so in the civilian world until his death in July of 2011. He was a husband and a father, a brother and a friend. He was important to us. It was because of his past in the Army that he also was awarded full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. This time the wait was much longer and his funeral wasn’t held until November 15th of 2011. I remember that day and the days leading up to it like it was yesterday. I had ended my deployment in Iraq on November 3rd, making it back to the US on November 6th. From the time of his death I had stayed in contact with Mom and his wife Andi to make sure they were ok and help in any way I could with the affairs and expenses. When I finally did get home I pulled my truck out of storage had it inspected, fueled and ready to go. It was unfortunate, but my wife was in college and had work at the time so she couldn’t come with us so my daughter and I made the long trip from Houston TX to Hickory NC to see Troy’s wife and kids. While I was there I also picked up a close family friend of ours who needed a ride and made the long drive to Arlington VA...again. The US Army’s honor guard met us there to perform his service and again the attention to detail, the respect given to the deceased, and the discipline shown was flawless. There were more friends this time than family in attendance but I was there with Mom, Robbie, my daughter, and some very close family friends, some going all the way back to our childhood. The ceremony was the same, every time the same. I remember thinking I hated the way “Taps” sounded as they folded the flag and I was angry and hurt when I stepped forward to claim my Brother’s remains and walk them to the wall vault that would become his final resting place. I have to say though, that through my grief and anger, I was a little bit pleased to see that he was placed so close to my Father and Grandfather. I left a pair of my own dog tags in his vault, it made me feel better that he wouldn’t be alone in there. I guess it doesn’t make a lot of sense now but at the time it did.  I stood over his marker and said a silent prayer before heading out to see Dad, Eddie and Joe’s markers and pay some respects. The grass was that brilliant emerald green again, and the sense that I stood in a place of honor reserved for our nations fallen still struck me through the heart.  After that we just kind of faded away from that place making our way home. Troy’s wife Andi had decided not to come, she was angry, she felt betrayed and abandoned, so on my way home I stopped back in Hickory NC, dropped off Michelle and made the drive to Andi’s house to present her with Troy’s flag as it had been presented to me. I remember hoping that her decision wouldn’t leave her with later regrets, but it was too late to change it now. The drive home was a long one, one that rekindled so many unanswered questions. Three generations of my family laid to rest leaving me as the only surviving male member of my family; something that still weighs upon my heart today.
But this is their story, and though it seems a sad one, that is not its intent. This story was written so that you the reader could understand that there is a place where over a hundred thousand Josephs and Eddies, and Jans and Troys are resting.  Each one of those stone crosses and stars have a face, a name, a history, and they made a sacrifice for you and for me. They were people who gave up their futures so that we could have one. They were people who had dreams, families, and who put all of that aside for what they believed in. They weren’t perfect people, but they deserve to be remembered. If you do nothing else after reading this, at least take the time to think about the freedoms that you have, freedoms that have cost us so much…

There lived, beneath a hanging leaf
A Ladybird called Annie
Who hated being female
And daily, cursed her *****
Her voice was deep and baleful
Her shoulders, broad and strong
By right, she was a Boybird
Just her genitals were wrong

Her family rejected her
She alive alone, ashamed
Until she met a Dragonfly
‘Salvation’ she proclaimed
For every bug and critter
When feeling below par
Would visit Doctor Dragonfly
In his empty pickle jar

Just maybe he could help her
With snip, a tuck and stitch
She’d not be Annie any more
Tomorrow, she’d be Mitch
She lay down on the table
And a beetle knocked her out
The doctor took his knife in hand
And bustled all about

With suture made of thistledown
And sap of pine for glue
He reassigned her gender
But the best that he could do
Was not a lady, not a man
But somewhere in between
And, as he used some aphid parts
The ***** were small and green

Annie never changed her name
It didn’t seem quite right
Her family still shunned her
She slept alone at night
The only insect in the field
With *****, ***** and *****
Even hungry birds avoided
Ladyboybird Annie

Drifting away from the stars

I watch my decisions sway 

Look at all this decay
I cannot make my mind

Drifting away from the suns

I am confined and resigned 

My fate is designed

When the stars aligned

I am just so blind
Drifting behind


I want to be reassigned from mankind 

Maybe one day I’ll find my mind 

Maybe it will be refined, defined
But today I’m drifting 

Shifting in this world 

A peal in an underworld

Drifting away from the cosmos

Maybe one day it will be clear

But right now it’s foggy and dark 

I just want to disembark

I may be quitting but right now I’m just

drifting

Selina grew up in an orphanage
she was a *******
her father disappeared
after the Great War
her mother
dead from poverty
She was a Catholic
of the highest devotion
she loved Jesus
and Saint Joseph
and after she was
past schooling age (14)
she went off
to serve as a maid
for a good Catholic family
she wanted to be a nurse
but circumstance dictated
that she never could be
not enough school,
then, when she was 17
the 2nd Great War came
and women were needed
to work the steel mills
and shipyards
of Stockton England

she got a job
painting bombs
she signed little things on them
like,
take that ******,
but the job
caused her asthma to flare
so she was reassigned
as what was then known as
a postman
clopping around the streets
happily delivering mail
She met a man
named John Hartley
and she intended to marry him
her friends warned her
he's a bachelor,
a woman hater,
but he was also
quite the handsome soldier
they married
after the war
and had five children
three of whom
became nurses
proud tears falling
like rain drops
a life of hardships
which she batted away
with Christ as her shield
summed up
by her
giving her children
what she never had

Something simple
to begin:

Your winter coat hanging in my doorway
blue wool buttons and frayed edges
with one dun hair
clinging to the collar.

                       you left me with these things.


three kisses goodbye
under a streetlight   

                     
The first tasted like every flower blooming in every summer,
every blackberry, every honeybee at the screendoor,
the skirts of every rainstorm, distilled and drank.

The second felt like committing something to memory.
The locking of a jewelry box, the pressing of a leaf,
twisting of a ring; the way in which a muscle remembers.

The third was a hesitation. You had already reassigned me
as a bedtime story, counting these things like sheep.
We stepped over the threshold between now and once.

Your coat hanging in some other doorway
hanging from your thin frame,
packed away in a box until

until,

what we are now is arbitrary
lengths of time and distance.

I mouthed beer breathed approbation
at the invited wonder of your sister's sweatered *******
the tableau set then,
for such delicious beginnings and shaky revisions,
once I  left the "look but do not touch" misgivings
amongst the litter of a thousand such instructions

I borrowed that hazel eyed angel for a night
rescued from drowning in a clear bottled wasp trap
the fattened marital photo was covered,
alternating friends corrected and reassigned
their alibis and frightened lies
while heaven was briefly in our sights

and we shook and screamed the clearing of our names
from every future Christmas list

and yet

clearance comes only once inventory becomes stale
and folds around your wintered house,
offers no plan to buy or stamp a route to someplace else

slow submissions rattle my pen
this is no season for love and there is no reason to begin
other than there, in the shadows, where portraits breed desire

and while mirrors shall dream of falling
I am not through looking yet
for while fun and feuds begin with *******
an ending always screams attention

The world above her shined,
And wonder filled her eyes.
Nothing could mess with her mind.

The clouds were reassigned,
New creations rised,
The brighter the world shined.

She laid there as the clouds combined.
She stayed calm and the moon cried,
Nothing can mess with a simple mind.

Just the peace of mind,
That flies.
The brighter the world shined.

The sun fell from the behind
The wonder appeared in her eyes.
Nothing can mess with her mind.

The night soon ended,
Closing the girl's clock that controled her eyes,
The world above her shined,
Not even sleep can mess with her mind.

~Kaylie

Have you ever crossed paths with a person who's words were kind?
Then when you are not paying attention they strip naked and robbed you blind.
When all along they had you thinking they were a person who was truely divine.
Listen to my story as I press Rewind.

Once upon at time,
He was my rhythm and I was his rhyme.
I fell in love with him but I barely gotten to know em.
Our relationship was like words scripted from a love poem.
Its started off as a sweet song, harmonized tone, with a beautiful melody.
It was blissful, so euphoric, and heavenly.
Almost like a fairytale story told in a musical symphony.
It turned into more than what i imagined it would be.
Intensely!
Our eyes would lock and make love passionately.
Almost as if we were saying I'm in love with you telepathically.
Our minds, our thoughts, our spirits were attractive intimately.
I yearned for his touch,
I wanted him to love me just as much.
We had laughs and smiles that last for miles and miles.
I even Envisioned me walking toward him in white dress down the Asile.
Then he turned to me and said, " You stole my heart without even telling me. Now I must arrest your heart and charge it with a felony."
We sky dived head first into love and we were drunk in it, madly.
Obsessed with him, I was desparate and felt I needed him badly.
He saw beyond what every man couldn't possibly see.
He surpassed the physical state and Met me spiritually.
Thats when he took the key,
Loosen the cuffs and set it free.
I thought God must have sent him because I prayed for and Angel to come Rescue Me.
From then on I thought I knew we were meant to be.
Unfortunately,
Its was never love it was just lust.
It was the evil spirits we were secretly fighting deeply rooted inside of us.
Our demons recognized each other and discovered and attraction.
Thriving and preying on each other's compassion
Just to get a negative reaction.
Living together in Sin with much dissatisfaction.
Maybe we got too close.
Perhaps, your love was a toxic drug and I begun to overdose.
Felt like you were the parasite and I was the host.
Feasting upon my heart and emotions as if they were a juicy tender tasting *** roast.
We were cutting each other deep forgetting that we sow what we reap.
We went from loving human beings to acting vengeful and savagely mean.
Fighting each other Exceedingly in a way that was filthy and unclean.
Towards each other we grew apart, cold and keen.
The false love lead us on wild goose chase actively searching.
From that moment when I followed him to the bedroom and I gave to him a prized possession most call by the name of "That One Thing"
We both became Undeserving.
That "One Thing" is something that I should have been preserving.
The time i spent serving,
Is when I should have been picking up on you and learning.
I was trying to prove to for you I would do almost anything.
So I gave myself as a offering.
I even bared two children a male and female offspring.
But it didnt mean a thing because I was only suppose to be a fling.
Dear Mr. Lying King
     Has the taste of my love left upon your life with painful sting.
Even though he seem to be suffering,
still to me he still tends to cling.
He needed me like the violin needs its strings.
He would stay stuff like, "You belong to me."
But Someone please tell me How could that be?
How Could I be his Good thing,
For upon this Finger lies no wedding ring.?
We both became vulnerable and open.
We were confused over the words we have previously spoken.
The words that were spoken about love being a precious token.
But we were both victims of being broken.
Broken like a glass cup being thrown at concrete wall.
I took a step with him but he just sat there watching me as I fall.
He stole my youth, my peace, and everything that was wrightfully mine.
Left my world dark cold and lonely because he took Sun shine.
This is where I draw the line.
This had me wondering if this a modern day lynching.
Due to These feelings Im witnessing
Got me thinking, Could this be my death sentencing?
Symbolically your mental physically and verbal abuse. Has me Feeling as if I'm hanging from a tree as my neck is wrappped with rope from a noose.
Screaming, "Somebody help me cut me loose."
So I close my eyes praying for my repentance. Struggling, finding it hard to breathe with each statement and sentence.
Father Here I am seeking you once again humbly.
At this point I know you really should be done with me.
I know you are probably tired of hearing me cry.
Even asking myself A thousand and one times, "why man why?"
I know you are tired of hearing me complain and wine.
But Im tired of hiding behind a fake smile knowing that I am not really fine.
Lord give me a signal or show me sign.
All these thoughts are pacing rapidly thru my head and im slowly losing my mind.
As I pray GOD my life realign.
I put all the bad things away Im leaving it all behind.
For God has put me on another case, which he reassigned.
I came across scriptures, poetry, songs and books and I read it and this is what i find.
My story was just a tale of 2 souls that became one combined.
"How" , you ask because they're souls turned into 1 soul intertwined.
Thats how it was originally planned to be designed.
The one becomes the others rib and the other becomes the backbone/spine. But if you are unequally yoked and not spiritually inclined
It will all be just a mere waste of precious time.
So the next time somebody ask you for *** before marriage would you immediately decline?
Yeah he/she may be fine,
Maybe he/she is even one of a kind.
But all of that means nothing if you can't love their mind.
Dont walk around here being loved deadly and blind.

I see them there from time to time
Slipping through cracks in my mind
With faces that look just like mine
Only a slightly different kind
Somehow we're separate, yet still entwined
Yet when people ask, I say I'm fine
Perhaps I'm slowly in decline
Cause when I'm gone without a sign
Someone else is always next in line
To make sure our life does not unwind
I guess between all of us combined
It looks as if everything's aligned
But are they really so benign?
I'm sick of sitting on sidelines
There's too many for me to confine
Each wants their chance to outshine
To have control of our life's design
One little slip, and I'm reassigned
It's hard to fight them off sometimes
It can be so easy to just resign
And let them have their way this time

The battering ram of the underclass cruelty had left pocket marks in his dark skin as the quarrelling customers threw down cash just to ****** it back up as though they were bartering against each other for due time and money owed. He did nothing, save sit there and blink. I thought to myself it almost looked as though he was counting each second in the brief flutter of his eyelids. Open and closed they went, up and down, on and on. The two men were still bickering, each insisting the other owed more than he. My orange juice had begun to sweat in my hand, and I was anxious to eat my late night snack. I considered quietly persuading the two boisterous fellows to conclude their business and exit, but I feared what form their anger might take when reassigned to my annoying interjection. Saying nothing, I waited, testing my own patience and hoping fiercely they could move along. Some fifteen minutes later when all insults and insinuations were spilled out into the open air like oil into the ocean, the duo finally exited and I made my purchases, thankful to be rid of their company, and as I left I saw him sitting, stoic, still blinking rhythmically, not a word nor breath escaping his lips.

You told me once
          of the distinctive jingle
          that announced my station
when I could steal away
for a few moments
     to speak
     to see
     to connect
Over that long distant airwave
You told me I was one
          of two
          the other your son
who you wanted to know
was on the other end
so you could be certain
to take the call
I wonder
     have I now been
          dismissed
          replaced
          discharged
­          reassigned
     to a lesser status
Or would you still get a tingle
if you heard my jingle?

Mine is firm.
Has been confirmed.
And you have made the choice that my love isn't optional.

Designed and reassigned directly to you.
I'm like that song Ray Charles sung.
I'm a fool for you

And love to hear you say,my love isn't optional.
No choice need to be made.
You sealed the deal with just that phase.

Native American, once called Indians were  reassigned to a  reservation.
Slaves, once controlled on a reservation.
Many Jews placed within a concentration camp during World War II.
In America, was Asian American assigned to some too.

But the question remain.
Where have they been?
To state, they been mistreated by anyone's hands.

They have suffer less.
But complains more.
And for what?
Because they don't control things like once before.

When have they ever had to enter through the back door.
Or refused service at the dining room counter.
While they complain about rights being stepped upon.
When we aware those facts are simple case of pure fiction.

Those that been treated wrongly.
Have in most ways been more kinder.

Where in other countries?
Can you witness Americans soldiers seated with the Nazis?
But your own soldiers treated wrongly.

They fought them just as bravely.
But because of color refused service at the same business.
Oh, I must ask?
Where have they been?

What use to be great in their youth?
Seem only great because they won't address the wrong.
Some say, that just was the time they were living in.

What they must face?
Is those golden days of injustice doesn't exist anymore.
That they must face society is adjusting to facts.
Even if they don't.

And as things change.
They must ask themselves.
Where have they been?

I was your domino
you set me up and
watched as I fell
as if I were a game
you had me falling over and over again
you watched as I toppled over myself
disordering my mind
as you reassigned
the order that I should fall in
once again
you stood tall
as I fell at your feet

Come in
Slide behind
Start our rythm
Get on your grind
Forget my feelings
I'm losing my mind
Don't need real life
To you I'm blind
Can feel every ache
Wish I could rewind
Know I'll always be hurt
To you I am confined
Just waiting for the day
To be reassigned

This is the tale of an EPA
Administrator who
Has no shame at all about taking
Advantage of me and you.

We've seen him roll back fifty years
Of environmental protections;
That's bad for us but good for all of his
Oil and gas connections.

A costly, inflated security team
To fly with him overseas
24/7? That ought to make
Taxpayers ill at ease.

For him first class is a must when he flies;
To hell with flying coach.
He feels his team deserves the same
And thinks he's beyond reproach.

Better yet, he would prefer
Military jets.
So what if it costs us even more money;
He has no regrets.

When staff members question his spending
And wonder if it's required,
They will find themselves demoted,
Reassigned, or fired.

Receiving monetary favors
From lobbyists isn't proper.
He wants a bullet-proof SUV;
But here's the real showstopper:

Security staff admit that when he--
In order to catch his flights
Or go to dinner--will ask them to use
Their sirens and flashing lights!

A recent trip took him and his team
To Morocco, but alas,
Believe it or not, the reason was
To promote natural gas!

His attitude toward tax-payer
Dollars is cavalier;
But when it comes to helping the poor,
He is more austere.

So this is how Trump drains the swamp!
A funny way to do it.
But maybe he fits right in with the rest:
That's our man Scott Pruitt!

-by Bob B (4-6-18)

Listening through the chatter
What‘s mattered now shattered
Cluttered schemes now
Shuttered dreams
Minority priorities
Reassigned—
Misaligned

Reassigned
Renamed
Revolving still in the same way
Where night is still night and day is still day
I am now seen as a lower grade of pay
For once I stood big but now I am small
From the heights of a man
Oh, how the mighty do fall
Words cannot describe such change in life
You adapt
Quick wit
As sharp as a knife
I like to keep in and be that one-man show
Yes, I am still that guy, that guy you all know
Just watch me change, adapt, succumb
For I am that evolving planet,
I am Pluto.


JJB

WATCHING YOUR DAILY RISE FEELS ME WITH JOY AND EXCITEMENT.
IT IS THE RENEWED PROMISE OF A SECOND CHANCE AT ACCOMPLISHMENT.
ALL WORRIES AND FAILURES LEFT BEHIND
IN ALL AREAS BENEVOLENCE HAS BEEN REASSIGNED.
OUR ANCESTORS WERE ALWAYS FILLED WITH GRATITUDE FOR EACH SUNRISE,
THEY WERE SO IN TOUCH WITH MOTHER NATURE AND SO WISE.
THE BIRDS AND ALL CREATURES REJOICE AT THE LIGHT OF DAY
BUT WE HUMANS TAKE IT FOR GRANTED THAT THE SUN RISES DAILY COME WHAT MAY.

What does the word cannon mean? I’ll have to look it up here in a bit. From the dawn of time we came moving silently down through the centuries.
The few who remain will battle to the last.
Hear we are! Born to be kings! We’re the princess of the universe.
Fighting to survive in a world with the dark cast pow hers.
Hear we belong! Fighting fur survival.
I am immortal.
Whatever the date is doesn’t matter to me.
I love Donald Trump so much; he is one of my many personal heroes.
Fell hen knee charge jazz.
We are THIS close. Alright? I have to come hair.
What do you want? Do you want the truth? ******. If you lied, you would have an easier time getting what you wanted.
I puked in a trash-barrel. Print-screen button...very aweesome!
I’m just not willing to say that everything I’ve ever done is a bad thing. No one can stop me but me. People act like ******* and then wonder why they get treated like a bunch of worthless *******.
It’s so stupid that I’m waiting for an AA meeting to begin when I’m not even a real alcoholic. Vulnerability really freaks people out these days.
Is it real? I think so. You don’t have any cats. No. I like that. Questions and statements.
A distant ship’s smoke on the ***** eyes sin. Zen. Her eyes Zen. I caught a fleeting glimpse outta duh corn hair hove ma eyes. Duh dream iz goine. Eye halve bee *** *** fort tab lee numb.
It’s not exactly a dream-job. My **** is working...overtime. You’re not cracking up, are ya? I’m not ******* surprised. Yer getting reassigned. *** sign duh.
Look...for me...you gotta lay low. What good am I to you if you don’t listen to me?

Ah... methinks legal tender
could be a boon to help me bolster
mein kampf with necessary material equipage,
which prospect to acquire essential
commodities sabotaged
at the altar of gullible travails,
thus perhaps thee could make
a contribution to mine gofundme page.

Castaway stranded on figurative
deserted island pitted with absolute
zero salvation, sole recourse
finds scant consolation with prayer
lifetime atheist draws futile faith
within himself grudgingly accepting
feeble accomplishments ditto permanent
estrangement among kith and kin tortured
more punishingly versus death sentence of
choice: firing squad, gallows, guillotine...

nostalgically sentimentally, and zealously
yearning fore gone girl(s) of mine, one
spouse two grown offspring long since
severed emotional home ties even when
under same roof appalled, embarrassed,
jarred particularly regarding good for
nothing hang dog looking papa, mentally
unfit father, who wrought misery
upon heads he begat chronically dirt poor
Mainline moocher never earning a ******

cent claiming psychological disability
(verity substantiated with professional
assessment attests to psychological mental
illness probably present during inchoate
biological development in utero, and most
definitely congenital) unfortunate no
supportive resources, thus experiencing
grievous incalculable relentless scapegoat
treatment - me no kidding
inadvertently subjected with cruel, diabolical,

exponential sucker punches
while riding the bus sitting stone temple pilot
faced during class, belittled, defeated,
framed unfairly as spitball culprit during
eighth grade mathematics with Missus Labosh
subsequently painfully shy lad threateningly
harangued, and nearly paddled courtesy
Methacton Junior High School principal
Mister Clock believe me you, aye remained
mum about said incident til...this moment,

not surprising since every unpleasantry
suppressed unwittingly festering within
psyche in tandem with threatening rapier
sarcasm ostracizing jibes cumulative
wrath unwaveringly smoldering, passively
brooding, visualizing punching meanies,
screaming... wanting to **** - sublimated hurts
glowering, exploding... decades later -
more often surfacing unannounced at odd
times venting bile at wife directly, and barking

at deux daughters subjecting innocent progeny
with mine anger, or rerouting, harboring,
channeling... pathological addiction answering
and posting personal classifieds, yours truly
guilty attempting to appease call of wild at mental,
physical, and spiritual expense additionally setting
poor paternal example accompanied with detached
avoidance maybe costing yours truly king's ransom
and/or receiving my just desserts, yes?

Thus yours truly imagines
whizzing backward at light speed
to reverse engineer
and rejigger space/time continuum
many stupid blunders
that cost me being knocked out cold
courtesy rock em sock em life size robots
compromising opportunities
the figurative ball
slipped out of my court
bungled, fumbled, mulcted  
courtesy naiveté I did excede.

Analogous to albatross greater than weight
Atlas shrugged, severely over burdening
fountainhead, yours truly intermittently
wavered, sputtered, petered... out bumped
uglies fumphered, rutted, née languished
along since birth, (possibly while in utero,
or even moment of conception nada so
thoroughly good by George) or well resigned
***** deeds done dirt poor deeply grooved
within very self restricted comfort zone,

eventually digging deep black hole sun,
infinite void everywhere exit prohibited,
whence twilight o' mine waning existence
awakened sober inescapable realization
impossible mission to garner je nais ne
quois joie de vivre, thus officially reeling
courtesy psychological angst (strumming),
whereby galactic dash board pluck pitted
against frantic ethereal desperation) eek
clip sing el sol lure rays refracted back

rendering blind did as a bat sightless
wayward son helplessly, rustling grimly,
futilely groping, lumbering, resigning,
scarce tenacity clutch slipping
automatically bing foisted transcendent
state, where absolute zero soundcloud
bereft succor – meadow fore enshrouds
hermetically sealed turin soul (mine)
cocooning grubby human forever
pinwheeling within otherworldly realm

timelessly suspended within infinite void
n'er aging, rather regressing toward
infantile state, unable to distinguish
familiarity after aye promise never tug
heave fanta see piquing curiosity
acronym spelled out regarding above
soda describing bubbling sensation
"** And Never Touch Again,"
red alert universal emergency advisory
button commencing countdown to

Armageddon, but subsequently resign
quintessential pregnant outcome
housing grimacing deathstill blackness
unbeknownst to constitute afterlife,
or less disconcerting, disheartening,
disenchanting... prospect namely
imperfectly square discombobulated
chaos betokens palatable alternative,
perhaps revelation (cryptically spelled
courtesy Chinese fortune cookie) less

dim sum more tolerable conclusion possibly
incorporates being rezoned, repurposed,
reassigned... within parallel universe fast
D'Cell rating indicative approaching
beginning space/time continuum, where
cosmos concentrated into microscopic
speck sagely, taste fully, gingerly...
handled... courtesy garden variety
budding ***** **** sapien.

An armature linkedin to robotic divine
creator, who never tired plying matter
into big bang dang boomerang contraption
only to release stretched material with
frisson cold snap, crackle, and pop
indiscriminately, haphazardly, gamely...
flicked teensy weensy itty bitty cosmic
dross - poofing into immeasurable shift
shaping said vast bajillion mile wide
instant karma credit witnessed umpteenth
birth expanding into former vacuum of
nothingness simulating an all encompassing
immense awesome kaleidoscope when
viewed thru virtual reality goggles all
the while frustrated wordsmith toying
with incomprehensible far out mind
boggling notion defying elaboration.

Pain, unimaginable to the innocent mind,
Wracks their bodies at night.
To their suffering, the world is blind.

All of their requests declined,
The guards spit on their humanity with ill disguised spite.
Pain, unimaginable to the innocent mind.

The government tries to keep their voices confined,
As they keep the centers far out of sight.
To their suffering, the world is blind.

Screaming and crying, mothers and children are reassigned
To separate detention centers bathed in harsh light.
Pain, unimaginable to the innocent mind.

Far from the cities, they are trapped behind
Bars of ill disguised jails as they cower in fright.
To their suffering, the world is blind.

Behind their tv screens, the world watches the tragedy unwind,
They watch, sympathizing but not acting on, this violation of rights.
Pain, unimaginable to the innocent mind,
To their suffering, the world is blind.