Seventeen years ago
America was shaken to the core.
Since not too long after that
We've been involved in a non-stop war.

Homeland security
Became an issue that since then
Hoped to assure Americans
That such attacks won't happen again.

During the past seventeen years
Many measures have been taken
To make us safe; however, it's time
For sleeping minds to reawaken.

Lacking foresight, our president
Has gone after the people who
Have worked to make us safe. The man
Doesn't seem to have a clue.

Discrediting investigators,
Removing them from key positions,
And pulling security clearances
Because of paranoid suspicions

Will only make us vulnerable
To future terrorist attacks.
Watch how his Republican friends
In Congress support him. Political hacks!

The president also hates
When investigators eye
American involvement with
The Russian mafia. We know why.

It's hard to watch as the president--
With almost each careless endeavor--
Stupidly goes out of his way
To make us more unsafe than ever.

-by Bob B (9-11-18)

Watch out, or you will find that you're
On President Trump's Enemies List,
For democratic values and Donald
Trump cannot coexist.

Former CIA Director
John Brennan, now has learned
That when it comes to silencing critics,
Trump will leave no stone unturned.

After hearing Brennan's critical
Words, the angry Trump was stewing.
Bam! He revoked Brennan's security
Clearance despite no wrongdoing.

The crazed, vindictive leader called
John Brennan's behavior "erratic."
Muzzling the freedom of speech, Trump's
Becoming more autocratic.

The office of the presidency
Has never, ever been sullied so.
This vicious attack on our First Amendment
Rights is a terrible blow.

Trump accused Brennan of making
"Baseless charges." Real translation:
Brennan didn't hail Trump
With sycophantic adoration.

On Trump's list are others who
Might lose clearances as well.
Here his lack of integrity
And pettiness have no parallel.

Another motive for Trump's action
Is more diabolical yet:
He wants to strip the power away
From all people who might be a threat

Because of their connection to
The Russia probe. That makes sense.
As more dots are being connected,
The situation is growing tense.

While servile Republicans in Congress
Defend their despotic president,
Let Brennan's powerful words
Resound: "I will not relent."

-by Bob B (8-16-18)

(Plaster cast at Pompeii)                    

                [THE TOUR GUIDE]

                “Ladies and gentlemen, here we are at Pompeii's
                fabled Thermal Baths where heated water was
                passed through duct work in the walls.  One can          
                imagine Nero himself stopping here on one of            
                his visits.”

[BONITO]

Bonito stepped out of the bathhouse and looked up.
Vesuvius rumbled - shaking ash and fire skyward.
Breaking into a run he sought the south road,
glancing back anxiously at the
vast dark cloud billowing down the mountain.

                "The principal city roads were recessed
                and wagons were required to have standardized
                wheelbases and clearances to fit in channels cut
                into the stone.  Follow me please to the residential
                area.”

He gained the road and his feet
pounded the stones of the “via stabiana.”
The cloud multiplied and fell on the city.
Ever deepening layers of ash clogged Benito’s path.
Heart pounding in his chest he lengthened his strides.

                “Leaving the opulent villas with their spacious
                atria, we now enter the market area where we
                shall see a display of remarkable interest.  During
                excavations, empty spaces were discovered in
                the ash deposits.”

The rising ash captured his left leg.
Bonito inhaled the fiery air and ******
forward into a burst of falling soot
but was unable to finish his stride.

                “Archaeologists poured plaster into the voids
                revealing the outlined bodies of Pompeiins
                trapped in their final moments.  Take, for example,
                this man caught in mid-step with no time
                to escape the life choking dust.”

*June, 2006

I wish my lotion had glitter in it
I also wish my head didn't hurt
I had a nightmare that I was back in the hospital the day my insurance company denied my medication
I can't afford it,
So I can't sleep now
But yesterday I dreamed I was back in the hospital like when I was a kid
I was only there a couple of times, for testing and for times I forgot my medication
There was a bit of a learning curve for a seven year old
But I'm moving out next year
I've already learned
I take my vitamins, I go to my doctor visits
I finally got my sports clearances,
But I can't drive a car without my medication
I can't work somedays either
So as I lay here, by myself, I can't help but remember the nurse who gave me a friendship bracelet in the emergency room on Christmas
The saline in my arm was cold, and they stopped giving me blankets because I had a fever
I was twelve years old and it was snowing in Atlanta for the first time in years
I couldn't tell from my windowless room
The nurse put lotion on my hands with glitter in it
I had a fever because I was dehydrated
I was dehydrated because I forgot my medication at home in Pennsylvania.

a wand of disappearances
operate in our very
midst
who is the conductor
of its vanishing
gist?

where once our fellow
poets did pleasantly
reside
now the wicked wand
has eradicated their
bide

numerous blank spaces
symbolize the conductor's
vice
employing a wand which
has emptied the
rice

black the hour
black the day
a black instrument
whisking them all too
suddenly away
a wand so dark
of intent
wanting to wane
our writers tent

the subtracting conductor
will be planning future
disappearances
so be mindful of its
wand's unsolicited
clearances

PRELUDE - THE SEE THROUGH HOUSE

a child sings from an open window
a sweet song serenades an angry sky
escorting the sun home soft and mellow
so many years have now drifted by
visiting my old home here on Vatersay
Western Isles have their own genetic blends
I made the wee trip over from Castlebay
all that was left to see - two gable ends!
As my eye resists a lonely tear
I walk alone for a while on the sand
memories hark back to yesteryear
my Parents couldn't tame an untamed land
unrelenting hardships too much to take
the summer rain and then the winter snow
remnants of a failed dream in my wake
endless crashing tides screamed we had to go
but now I've lost myself in time's assuage
smoke billows forth from a happy fire
forgetting the gales and their howling rage
just the birds and lambs of nature's choir
but then the Cuckoo sang a confused song
Oyster Catchers didn't know which way to fly
no more childrens laughter all day long
Father leans on his staff and starts to cry
I visit my childhood home this one last time
bookending my days, a kind of crescendo
a strange thing I know but surely not a crime
for an Old Lady to sing from an open window.


PART - THE FIRST

New Scotland, old Scotland it was all the same
the clearances were a distant memory
and the two thousand mile journey that took weeks.
They settled on Nova Scotia's East coast
time and circumstances made them one flesh
as they embarked on love's difficult journey
they were blessed with a sweet child, Ishbael
they both loved her tho no longer each other

at night Ishbael would sing out the open window
she would sing to the moon, she would sing to the stars
she imagined that she was a ballet dancer
and dreamed of being such when she grew up

Mother eeked out a living from the tired land
Father spent most of his time on the fractious sea
She stood motionless at the front door each night
He checked the lobster creels under a salty spray

the spode China would be laid out on the table
strategically placed on the driftwood surface
cups stained brown with tea, coffee and nicotine
and on the outside with smudges of lipstick
it was the most treasured family heirloom
it was somehow smuggled across in the boat
it was passed on to them as a wedding gift
it was the only item of value they ever had

night after night Mother watches the sea
in the distant field, Sheep murmur like Bees
the bog cotton waves like a myriad hankies
as sunlight dissolves under cumulous cloud,
his bent over figure would surely soon appear
whistling a sea shanty walking up the track
but like a novel, his script came to an end
the storm weathered body was never found

outside on the lonely pebbled shore a Curlew sang
the net curtains rose and fell to it's bleak strains
wind rattled the windows like the beating of fence posts
they drank hot milk from Spode china for the final time
their family had creaked under the stresses and strains
that night a tall poplar tree crashed through the roof
storms wrecked their home like they wrecked their marriage
a perfect marriage of howling wind and frigid air

a lifetime of memories carried toward the sea
yet that old enemy was soon to be their friend
like a crush that would simply not go away.
Veiled by wrinkles Mother responds to the calling.
Larks cavort up and down in their unyielding plot
while they are bound for a far and distant land
the land was in their blood the blood was in their kin
the Isle of Vatersay, they were going home.


PART - THE SECOND

Old Scotland, new Scotland it was all the same
but she could not ignore the similarities
she looked across the ocean, it was all the same
two thousand miles of Atlantic anger
wind driven waves like a Tiger on a lead
but the tide died, the sea had peace like a child's hair
this reminded her of her kind Step Father
he would lean on his staff and cry when things went wrong

a storm took this house too, only they were not in it!
They settled across the water in Castlebay.
Time was unveiled as she relived her childhood,
withered fence posts and rusty wire that kept the joy in
brushing aside the nettles the hearth warmed her heart
window fames were as firm as ber Father's hand shake
she carefully scraped away the moss of time,
darkening seas awakened to her silvery voice.

She scurried along the beach with a youthful gait
reminiscent of her ballet dancing days
then the tide of her heart rose like a mountain within
down in the marram grass, she stared in sheer disbelief
her body all a quiver she picked up the fragments
with cupped hands tears were mingled with Spode china
she raised her eyes heavenward and screamed...
"nach eil sin italicired"
which when translated means 'how wonderful is that!'

tears rolled uncontrolably down her face
she stood still shaking the fragments in her hands
it made a lovely tinkling sound like cow bells,
two thousand miles of Atlantic anger
had softened the edges and smoothed over her memories.
She looked fervently at the long deserted croft
the wind erased her footprints in the sands of time
and then the sun went down.


EPILOGUE - THE END

when your poems fail to rhyme
when your watch runs out of time
when you feel your fate was sealed
we were on the same level playing field

when clouds slowly start to fill your sky
when the ocean gives it's final cry
life's pathways they did wind and wend
we were all equal in tbe end

we all had good times and hope'd they'd last
but time went on rolling on by far too fast
that lady in the window she's still singing
not about 'the end' but a new beginning.

SECURITY CLEARANCES

Rules at the White House...Who reads them?
Proper procedures...Who heeds them?
Security clearances
Make scant appearances.
The attitude is: Who needs them?

-by Bob B (2-20-18)

ON ****** MISCONDUCT

Trump says you just have to say,
“I didn’t do it,” and they
Will blame your accusers
And call them all losers.
That’s life in Trumpworld today!

-by Bob B (2-21-18)

GUNS

More GUNS in our schools, Trump swears,
Will STOP the school shootings. He dares
To repeat what the vice pres
Of the NRA says.
They're BOTH lacking something upstairs.

-by Bob B (2-23-18)

HIRING THE BEST?

We know that Trump knows how to fire ‘em,
But how does his conduct inspire ‘em?
Three of his men
Are felons now. When
Will HE ever learn how to hire ‘em?

-by Bob B (2-23-18)

REFORM

Gun-law reform will crash
If Trump believes that it's rash.
The gun lobby's puppet
Will never give up; it
Is hard when you count on their cash.

-by Bob B (2-24-18)

The saying goes: airports and funerals see the saddest people
The saddest people are those at Walmart at midnight
Dressed in the lazy pajamas of tomorrow morning
And baggy eyed in the missed responsibilities of today
Being at Walmart at midnight is like going to church on Tuesday
Your timing was a little off, but at least you tried
Aisles full of 'clearances' and 'don't look at me's'
(but also please acknowledge my existence)
And then I realize that I am at Walmart at midnight
I am sad. But I am not cat-food-road-map-cart sad
So, I got that going for me

The following crafted
approximately midway
into the administration
of forty fifth president,
whose crass, gutsy, lewd,
repulsive yawping finds
him squarely poised to
nab the nomination as
Republican front runner
come the 2024 election.

The overstuffed ego freezer
(yes him with the coiffed
windblown hair has been making,
sans daily) regular appearance
in the news oval
hate gambling arrogance
vis a vis spewing,
shouting, and scathing rabidly
foaming explosive handy
claptrap in ascendance,
asserting how incredibly
tremendous collusion between
CIA, FBI and media

(must warrants revocation,
hence heroic intervention,
and emergency das
Pence sing balance
of security fabled
clearances Aesop - Asap)
hounds engaged "brilliance"
in (community) chance
of making an very
usual fool of himself,
viz the "FAKE"

trumpeting dapper Don
expostulating the latest ploy,
raging against the machine
i.e. entire popular culture
will get their comeuppance
being so freely outspoken,
a disgraceful unconstitutional defiance
which oh press
sieve act of deviance
spluttered, thus an extreme

measure to clamp down
on all news outlets,
and immediate disappearance
all the while poor
Melania stoically, objectionably
and lamentably stands
right alongside him,
(nonetheless nonverbally
metaphorically exhibiting
vitriolic livid rage)

as he rancorously spouts
(ala VERY) convincing impression
of la va reenactment qua,
Krakatoa volcanic disturbance
lambasting utter disgraceful disservice
(foxy Dis Putin
commercial stations construe, conspire,
conjure egregious collusion
outlets asper dominance
a pugilistic ringside fan loathsomely

(re: scowling non verbally),
wherein pejorative spectators whether
(moral less minority, and/or
majority whips lashing) weather being
subsequently splashed by
LXXII spittle aged
perspiring ogre) with exuberance
(like some voodoo freelance
sing hexed indigo gurl goo goo doll,
a villainous venal mummified

rattle trap declaring forbiddance
from this moment forward grievance
fomented by via triple threat
to American democracy
sans, intransigence, insouciance, ignorance,
thus taking recourse upon the heads
of "stupid" journalists forcing hand
toward "losers" who spread lies,
hence president signs issuance
analogous to lance

sing (via strong trumpeting arm),
a yuge bigly boil saying believe me
(meaning him - ***** in chief)
asseverating the congressional,
global, and orbital
bulwark acting with noncompliance
necessitating entire military
industrial complex arsenal
heavily reinforced (at
the expense of every social,
governmental, environmental, etc cetera

to manage unruly populace
with mandatory diktat decreeing obeisance
with non dodging demagoguery
huff ford ding auto-da-fé fiat ordinance
this platform to guarantee overdominance,
when November 2020 election
for forty sixth president
takes place with poignance
when courtesy hindsight
transition to Biden administration
punctuated by insurrection.

When I witnessed capital one rebellion
slack jaw froze mine countenance
when eyes blinded with figurative
daggers asper mistakes in original draft,
hence...this flood proof, fire resistant,
and fever reducing error free version.

Yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing  
haint no crime -
at least not yet.

Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience itching

visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with pizazz, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingeniousness emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits

as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits

(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid ***** loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what ain't
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,

sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled and docked by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs

me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over active imagination whirs.

thoughts weigh
heavy on my mental
So I grab a pencil
And write it all down
I hear the pitter patter sound
of my tears
They Run the ink away
Even they too can't stay
My anxiety is kicking in
I grab my paper and my pen
And I jot my deepest pains
and dreams
I share my nightmares
which aren't really what they seem
Merely old experiences
that only have clearances
when I'm sleep
My pencil in my keep
I write and write until I pass out
Then I wake to fake a day
In my thoughts is where I stay
It a terrible terrific curse
A writers pepeeze
My pencil keeps my mind at ease
I wonder after I write and scratch and choke recanted and jot side incomplete notes
How does my paper feel?
Because my mind is the flood the hurricane the tsunami of fear
my paper and pen are my life jackets my levee
Poor paper must feel real real heavy

In veils of uncertainty
I stand on my balcony
the stones lose colour

turn grey behind a shower
and sink in the shadow
of black clouds, I'm waiting

for steaming clearances
that shoot colours again
in my quiet house

.....The day has a lot of time
.....and all that time I'm standing here tired
.....working hard, bouncing

.....emotions back and forth
.....between all and nothing, bundling them
.....one by one in the prism

.....of my heart and scattering
.....their colours far outside me, and then
.....crystal clear silence