Bound in blessings with the Left -
                 Brother Left!
Joined in patriotic love of country - fellow man!
        How we quarrel, quarrel, quarrel,
In pursuit of governing!
        Stars and stripes define our kinship,
Coupled by our common heirship
Providential comforting;
           Striving on, on, on,
         In the stately pantheon,
And respectful competition of opinions coalesced
       From the Left, Left, Left, Left,
               Left, Left, Left -
  From the striving and reviving of the Left.


        Hear the agitating Left,
                 Fearful Left!
Having aspirations of equality expressed!
        Notions quite inferior -
        Vaunting ours - superior!
From the birth of modern man
    The crown is ours.
God-anointed master plan
  Grants the bounty to the chosen ruling clan -
   Avatars!
           Rightful is our point of view!
Such a farce to claim equivalence in detinue!
   How undue!
   How untrue!
           Parity!?! They misconstrue!
Toleration? We eschew -
         And the thieving, and deceiving
           Of the Left, Left, Left,
         Of the Left, Left, Left, Left,
               Left, Left, Left -
  To the squeaking and the shrieking of the Left!


         Hear the loud and loathsome Left -
                 Traitor Left!
Behold their filthy claims of equity expressed!  
       Speaking for their people now,
       In a gruesome, ghastly growl!
Bellowing their heresies,
From their foul vicinities,
                  Blasphemies!
All the voices tell me that the Left is savage and insane,
All the faces sell me feelings of derision and disdain,
           Ceaseless refrain, refrain, refrain,
            Feed the chorus to sustain
That which makes me feel exceptional,
Castigating as contemptible,
      Anyone with views apart from mine.
            Oh, the Left, Left! Left!
Inhumane and demonized,
      Reviled!
How they dream, and scream, and scheme!
       How could anyone oppose
Righteous, pure and godly promulgated truth?
       Yet the chosen few persist,
Through the gnashing,
And the thrashing,
      ‘Owning Libs’ is sacrosanct;
Even though the mirror shows,
       The heaving,
And the seething.
       And the cowardice repeating,
Of the spinelessness - projected on the Left—
             On the Left—
     On the Left, Left, Left, Left,
            Left, Left, Left—
In the droning and the groaning of the Left!


          Hear the venom of the Left -
                 Evil Left!
Claiming equity of those awash in melanin!
Fetid fiends of arrogance,
Threatening our dominance,
       Damaging hegemony,
      Weakening supremacy,
Of the righteous, rightful heirs of kingdom come!
The heresies that they espouse,
      Causes panic to arouse;
     Evilness!          
    Oh! These wicked, loathsome creatures,
       WIth disgusting, grotesque features;
                 Vileness!
        And their preaching, preaching, preaching,
          In their pitched and putrid screeching,
Mutual inclusion teaching!        
          Oh, what awful, wretched swine!
     Having sold their own humanity
     For prolonged insanity!  
              The fools!
        Look at them! It’s not us, not me!
        Can’t you see? See!?! See!!!
                    SEE!
             Paranoia on the Left!
         How delusional they are,
             Maniacal are the Left!
          Spying on my ev’ry move!
          Telling lies, lies, lies!
          Being kind is for the week!,
             Tell that to the dreadful Left—
               The wretched Left -
          Telling lies, lies, lies!
          Selfishness in virtue!
            Hear the throbbing of the Left -
          Of the Left, Left, Left -
            Hear the sobbing of the Left;
          Telling lies, lies, lies,
            And they creep, creep, creep,
          Spying on me as I sleep!
            Oh! The mania of the Left -
          Of the Left, Left, Left -
            The hysteria of the Left,
      Of the Left, Left, Left, Left -
              Left, Left, Left -
  And the moaning and the foaming of the Left.

Blank men carry black stones
to riverbeds and call all
who wake before the bells
to follow.

They do not worry about tomorrow
because tomorrow is never
and blank men are naught.

They do not ride horses
because horses mean work.
They do not fall in love
because love means deep being.
They do not chant prayers
because prayers make believe.

They only carry black stones
to riverbeds
because rivers are always changing.

“Don all ye that come, with lamp
and cloak and speak the nameless
name of the river you step into.
Bright be we that carry this darkness
and shadow be us that survive the light.
Ask not why you carry these stones,
but hurl them into the void
and see your reflection tremble.”

At this they move on
and repeat themselves,
with new faces
and no names,
to places that don’t exist
and people that never were.

Blank men carry black stones
to riverbeds and call all
who wake before the bells
to follow.

father of the bells swinging.
great weights
to give praise while
we set aside our silent
alleluias.

what gives us
cause to build with
symbols, brick upon
storied pages, is

the opportunity
to teach us
generosity,
could there be a
greater gift than that?

we seek unusual
beauties, a flower
in a dying woman's hair,
bearing witness
of the fresh
clean linen
table cloth,

hidden there small
flecks of flesh
and spotted blood,
we become,
swinging in the
breath of god,
as sounds
from the bells
summoning us
to sleep.

Loosened from the ropes,

the bells are chiming around --


in their ecstasy.

While withy branches

tap tick tack in the puddles -


the bells are ringing.

riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii­iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing
Goes the bell flashing in the skittering crowd.
Surrounded by a ghost town, abandoned and forgetful.
Lined paper flutters through the hallway.

Empty cinder-block walls tower over the laminate,
Windowless cubbies cling onto their half-working outlets.
Irritation pulses in a scurry from jaw to wrist and ankle.

Aimlessly meandering through the tallied ceiling tiles,
Tired eyes weigh heavily on a ***** blackboard.
As empty seats are filled.
riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii­iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

Alone sits the tower's bell,
In the glow of lantern light.
Looking out at the town,
Silently gazing upon the night-fell streets.
Every day, the elders yearn to hear it ring again,
They want to hear the sound they know.
From their childhood, they remember,
What it was like to hear the bronze ring echo.
Yet, the children,
Don't have a chance to forget.

A-walking in a cobbled street,
I breathe the brittle winter air,
the crunch of frost beneath my feet.
The early hour’s sunbeams flare.
Arising in the ice-blue sky
three stone church towers stand and wait.
Their spires point to the most high
as morning sunlight splashes paint
across their well-worn windswept face.
These turrets of a sacred keep
stand silent witness, each stone traced
by time’s sharp fingers etching deep:
I hear each crack and crevice sing
a murmured prayer for us to stand
and listen to the brass bells ring
over sunlit frosted land.

What is love? A quest,
You totally are the best,
Wake me up in bliss,
Takes more than our kiss,
It is beyond sublime,
Stood the test of time,
Better man no love could bring,
You make this heart's bells ring,.
Guess I am still in love,
Love is sign from above.