Part Of The Game

I wasn’t going in to work this morning.

The courts were empty but for a guy

Ten years younger and a better shot.

After exchanging first names

We chose and David got the ball out.

Like just about every outdoor court

The rim was merciless

Your shot swished or bounced high and wide.

David was killing me when we took ten.

For reasons beyond recall I spoke about black players

When did they get guys who could hit an outside shot?

I spoke about Sweet Water Clifton.

Man could dribble, but was blind beyond 15 feet.

David spoke about Oscar Robertson

Who could dribble, pass and score 30 points or more.

David, a black guy, suggested

Oscar played when color didn’t limit your game. 

For The Cause

They knew what was expected of them

What the reward would be

And the necessary transit fare

The killings righteous and mandatory

Each of them understood their martyrdom,

If the Caliphate was to become universal.

Their small contribution would be rewarded by eternal

Acceptance into the hallowed circles

This was her last night in Paris

She and her classmates were celebrating

The wonders of the six weeks

Of boys, music, wine, and a little learning

It was a star-filled, warm night

Sitting outside the café seemed

Just the prefect ending to their adventure

When a pair of bearded guys carrying guns approached

Word, maybe inaccurate, spread through

The refugee camp

Poland was closing its boarders

Would Germany be next?

Something had happened in Paris

He offered hope

We are not going to France

Tomorrow we reach Germany and freedom.

Shame

Paris was attacked on Friday and over 120 people killed.

Paris was attacked and France bombed ISIS territory.

Paris was attacked but continued to take Syrian refugees.

Sunday Paris cafés were busy.

3000 miles away Washington was busy.

Politicians voiced outrage, and raised the “American Flag”.

Efforts have begun to honor Syrian Christians

As the only Syrian refugees worthy of our consideration.

Governors of half our states have hung “closed” signs

To Muslim refugees.

Rumor suggests that the Statue of Liberty

Is, for the foreseeable future, draped in funereal black.

Collapse

If the threat from without is spreading, it is the disease within that foretells our passing. We have one more horse and no pending response to the fellowship of the circle. Yes, there is a potential solution, but even if successfully executed the results may merely facilitate the ride.

The panel of deciders has gained its utter independence, and is no longer accountable to any or all. Arguably, the road to our imminent destruction has been a long time coming, but it is no longer a matter of “if”, and “when” is merely a question of whether my, or my sons, generation will be on the welcoming committee.

No, I am not preaching “the end of times”, merely the passing of the United States. It was, in its current attire, dressed, or addressed, in “Animal Farm.” Five men dressed in black have decided the meaning of the words we thought we understood.  Sadly, global restraint, a frail creature, yet a miracle of no small magnitude, has not seen the dropping of the third bomb. Whether our democratic and economic ruin will be part of something larger is beyond my willingness to speculate.   

I offer my tenuous hope for a deferral of the inevitable. We must rid ourselves of two of the five horsemen. While I have my favorites, any two will do. Unfortunately, the results are likely to be disastrous. It may well facilitate a sort of Armageddon. I give it a 5% chance of some kind of success, but here is the list of upcoming events if we do not make a correction:

1.   Democracy, expressed by voting, will not last beyond 2016.

2.   Breathable air will be quite limited by 2040.

3.   Water will be available to 1 in 5 people by 2050.

4.   Good news: catastrophic war could offset: “3”, if 3 of 5 die.

5.   Beach property will be cheaper, but changing, by 2030.

Point Missions2

Sometime Army Air Force Bomber missions were 2 Point.

2 points missions had an upside,                 

Provided you returned to base.

Frank needed fifty combat mission points

Before he could return stateside.

Army Air Force Bomber missions were

Elevated from 1 to 2 if the time

Required to target and return

Increased the risk, substantial,

Or if Messserschmitt  BF 109’s,

In numbers, were waiting.

Frank described the German fighter BF109

As both beautiful and very efficient.

He thought German pilots were excellent.

Frank’s B-24 bomber was one of two

In a nine-bomber formation, that returned safely,

After a 2-point mission.

I Recognize the Music

Trillions of dollars and we have won nothing.

4,500 of our soldiers died and we have won nothing.

200,000 or more Iraqi’s, many civilians, dead

and we have won nothing.

This time it will be different.?

ISIS threatens Syria and Iraq.

The British are mildly interested.

Saudi Arabia finds the situation “awkward”.

Qatar is sympathetic, and

Kuwait is noncommittal.

Let us give more weapons

that self-destruct in two months,

minimizing their use against us.

We must quiet the Middle-East

Diplomacy

In growth lives vitality,

But it cannot survive without belief,

Nor will the enemies of tomorrow rest.

They endure to see yesterday become tomorrow.

Who stands with those searching in both yesterday’s cinders

And the emerging wisdom gleaned

From today’s expanded comprehension

Of what may be possible?

Will philosophy awake to the new paradigm

And add reason and sanity to the cause of tomorrow?

Or will those able thinkers persist

In holding yesterdays truth sacrosanct?

If we are to reach a place where understanding triumphs,

And trust becomes a risk well worth consideration,

Then will we not have arrived at the joining

Of diplomacy, in its many forms, with mutual respect?

I find the possibility wondrous, if improbable.

For the alternatives are tantamount to a sustained war

In which few survive and none prosper.

Had we not better unite with those searching for the improbable?

Germany: The Peacekeeper

It should not come as a surprise.

Cautionary tales never expire,

But we may hope for forgiveness.

Germany pleaded guilty 70 years ago.

Alfred, a German child of 11 in 1945,

Was not likely to have committed atrocities

In furtherance of Hitler’s policies.

He does not require your or my absolution.

I have been to the camps,

Seen ovens and pictures.

A photograph taken at Dachau visits me on occasion.

A German captain smiles, and kills two Jews with one bullet.

If I had the chance I would kill that German today,

No matter that he would now be over ninety.

But as to his son, Alfred, what is my grievance?

His Germany and Angela Markel are now my best hope for peace.

The Drone

If war is the answer, then the question

Becomes one of distance.

Killing has passed from confrontation

To aviation and now...computerization.

The woman assigned to the evening shift

Can dress casually, take off her shoes ,

And settle into her favorite music

While watching her large screen monitor.

Occasionally she might get a call,

Or beeping alert that overrides the music.

When the target number aligns with the target,

And video confirms, she will press the release button.

Then, if a video display confirms destruction,

She records the time,

And resumes viewing the changing screen

As the drone searches for its next target.

Going to War

Yes, we do not have another Iraq “slam dunk”.

I care that people are dying.

I have heard nothing that assures a better tomorrow.

Which enemy do we support?

The bad President, winner of a nonelection,

Or the folks sent into Syria by the other mass murderers?

To whom have we pledged justice?

Who has sanctified our perfect wisdom?

Are the people of the Mideast a shade closer to white

So that we should move beyond our self-defense

Into conflicts that are between brothers,

While showing indifference to Black Africa?

Our footprints are everywhere,

And few lament our departure

When we tire of “saving” the natives.

The Salon

I should have anticipated the vitriol.

When a shibboleth is threatened,

Bad things happen.

Leaving my tribe means losing comfort.

Communication is harder,

A nod is something else to some one else.

None of the presenters were Americans,

And they offered views that conflicted with

My beliefs.

They suggested my enemy was malleable,

Devaluing its history of hate and murder,

Inferring that I was rigid and unreasonable.

I reject their claims

And wonder if they have an agenda.

That would weaken my position?.

Now I have my back covered.

I have the guns and the options,

But not forever.

A World At Peace?

Here is the answer:

We can create a world at peace.

Of course we will dictate the terms,

But they will be fair and balanced.

With little human involvement

A new, improved, miniature drone system 

Will reshape human behavior.

Casualties will be minimal.

Guns will be replaced with sound and light projections.

Two inch or smaller drones, 

Perhaps as many as 100,000, 

Will be launched in low orbit.

These fiendish little beauties 

Will act as relays,

Forwarding sound or light transmissions

Into misbehaving factories, homes, offices and people.

They will relay visual images in color

To Bubba One, located in a very secure, excruciatingly secret location.

Copies of the photos will be available on line,

Instantly if not sooner, for a nominal fee.

Those fees will help fund the contractor

Who will be providing our Armed Forces

With this superb system.

We expect to have the whole operation profitable within two years.

Bubba One will be suggesting targets for the system

To the congressional joint committee on human safety.

Errant behavior patterns, reviewed by a team of psychologists,

Will aid in the selection of potential enemies.

While final details are being exhaustively reviewed,

We are now able to confirm the sale of shares in World At Peace,

At $.99 per share, with a maximum of 200,000,000 per person.

Our operators are standing by.

Handicapped

What do you say to a quadriplegic 

Who holds a microphone in his arm stumps

While singing the national anthem

To an enraptured audience.

Is it unfair to compete with those who 

Have not lost body parts?

Is it unfair to, a priori, dismiss the warrior

Because he seems unable to be objective.

Who is the keeper of objectivity?

Should she be devoid of knowledge 

To assure a mind

Uncluttered by information?

If truth is found through 

A field of purification ,

Are we left with judgment rendered…

Sans facts?

Let us, at the very least, 

Acknowledge the man without hands

As being allowed in the arena,

Along with the black, brown, yellow and red

When the Martians Land

!

I think of a baby in the bath water,

Splashing until the water is gone.

We speak of rights, without understanding

Them  or their limitations.

Much like the baby we demand liberty,

As though splashing or shouting

Will bring us to the unnatural state

We insist is our birth right.

2

When the Martians invade,

In whatever form they appear,

(Dead oceans, exhausted land, religious imperatives)

We will look to our deck chairs. 

When the Martians attack,

We will pass legislation making them illegal,

We will build useless walls, 

And condemn the enemy from the pulpits.

When the Martians advance

Short- sellers will reap a windfall,

With no way of collecting on their bet,

And no where to go with the gain.

When the Martians reach the gates

Speeches will be made, swords will be drawn 

And science will be offered as a sacrifice

To the last and best god. 

War

A rising sun on a smoldering valley. 

A smell, offensive,  persistent,

Overwhelms the odor of  smoke

That rises from the burnt out trees.

Union troops intent on stripping the dead -

Boots, belts, anything of use.

Soon the fallen will share a common pit.

In time new life will replace this scarred landscape

And the smell of death will diminish and pass.

But for  now it is omnipresent.

In the valley the sounds that fix attention

Are reduced from yesterday’s Armageddon,

No cannons, no rebel battle-cries charge the field

With terror and panic.

Today it is the moans and screams

Of the wounded and dying, men and horses,

Pained beyond endurance, waiting for help

Or death.

We kill fewer horses now.

Renditions

My favorite Hawaiian ballad,

“The Beautiful Days of My Youth”

Was offered in several renditions.

Lovely word “renditions”.

We do not “render unto Caesar”,

For “Rome” does not claim him.

We abjure the villainy of torture

And plead that our hands are unbloodied.

We turn to “Rome”

In search of the truth,

A truth that will not be proffered.

One that will not be voluntarily surrendered.

Perhaps Rome can be more persuasive?

Clarify the virtues of cooperation.

Is there a conundrum that needs elucidation?

Why must we go elsewhere for the answer?

I think it best we do our own torturing,

If it needs to be done,

And defend our stance

Or accept the idea that we can be better than that.

Ode To The Decider

A beautiful spectacle,

Spoiled momentarily by the crowds

Disapproval of the man.

How very unfortunate.

What had the man done?

Shred the Constitution?

Unleash the dogs of war?

Rape the Treasury?

Had he ignore the poisoning of the earth?

Hired incompetents or worse?

Close off alternative opinions,

Or cause the deaths of hundreds of thousands?

To be subjected to the assembled disapproval

Before the nations’ cameras. Dreadful!

Pundits voiced their mild impatience.

This crowd should know better.

Had not the man tried to do what was best?

Ah, the rub: Best for who?

Did this enormous crowd believe he’d rewarded the rich?

Not done his best for New Orleans?

Surely the no-bid contracts in Iraq were best for the country.

Was it his fault so many did not understand and appreciate his efforts?

Didn’t the oil companies need his help?

Couldn’t the people look back and see the value of his 8 years?

To suggest that the criminal in charge

Should be treated with surpassing respect,

Ignores his wanton destruction of our dialogue,

Replacing it with fear and hate.

Since lynching requires packed lunch baskets,

Hanging was out.

Perhaps an extra shoe, one to each attendee ,

Would have sufficed.