Friday, September 30, 2011

The Great Reformer

In the pantheon of stars,
Next to Jupiter and Mars,
Gorbachev and Boris Yeltsin
Stands the Great Reformer, Nelson.

From his perch upon the Hill
Nelson wields his deadly quill,
Reigning in the biggest spenders,
With the verdicts that he renders.

Nelson scoured government,
And to our great wonderment
Found a cut he could deliver
In his subcommittee quiver.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Processing Perdue

Ms. Beverly’s a chicken,
Afraid of what we’ll do
If we should hold elections;
She’s rightly named Perdue.

Or maybe she’s a turkey,
Whose brain is all askew
From turpentine ingestion –
A turkey named Perdue.

The Democratic gizzards
Are boiled, poached and stewed,
And call for desperate measures
Advanced by Bev Perdue.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Unemployment Cards

For an Independent

You walk the unemployment line
In suffering and pain
You might have been much better served
By voting for McCain.

From an Accountant

I know you lost your job last week,
But that will not impress
The folks who’ve come to visit from
The friendly IRS.

For a Democrat

You’ve lost your job and livelihood,
But here’s Obama’s pitch:
Your mood will be much better when
We stick it to the rich.

For a Chief Executive

The sparkle and the shine are gone,
Along with hope and change
The good news is the time you’ll have
To hit the driving range.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

High Harry Days

Into a corner Harry Reid
Applied the paint of FEMA’s need.
He crossed the House with petty games,
And called them less than noble names.

He manufactured, with a threat,
Another game of debt roulette,
And said to take a day or two
To contemplate his point of view.

But Boehner clearly didn’t wanna:
The House went home for Rosh Hashanah.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Preachin to the Choir

Now stop y’alls complainin,
‘N stop yer cryin too.
Ya gots to get campainin;
Ya gots to foller through.

Toss off yer bedroom slippers,
‘N get yer marchin shoes,
‘N buckle up yer knickers,
‘N pay yer union dues.

‘N quit yer belly achin –
I listens to y’all –
I’s hard at work creatin
The new T’mannie Hall.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Week 3

I think the public ought to know,
The Bard, last week, was three and oh.
If this week brings another three,
I may begin to charge a fee.

The Vikings get Detroit at home
Inside the ugly Metrodome.
The Lions ought to have a feast,
And win by seven points, at least.

The Green Bay Packers will not yield
When visiting at Soldier Field.
The Bears will lose, it seems to me,
But not by many more than three.

The Jets are cruising to the coast,
Where Oakland will oblige as host.
If Gang Green doesn’t win by six,
I’ll re-consider making picks.

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Public Hanging

For statutory thuggery
And violating laws,
The former head of Ways and Means
Was hung to loud applause.

The cries for mercy were ignored
And justice was restored,
When on that fateful afternoon
They pulled the velvet cord.

He hangs by Rostenkowski, Mills,
And others of the sort
Who used illegal ways or means
Of capital support.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Career Services

Obama thinks his job is hard.
He’s battered, bruised;
He’s bent and scarred.
I guess it caught Barack off guard
That presidents
Should work so hard.

I recommend a greeting card
Be sent to him,
With fond regard,
Explaining that he is not barred
From stepping off
The ballot card.

For if Barack would just discard
The center stage
On which he’s starred,
He might find work that’s not so hard,
As meter maid
Or crossing guard.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Matthew 18:15-20, Revised

The S.J. Capistrano code
Prohibits more than two
From gathering inside a home
For biblical review.

To integrate the city code
With sacred holy writ,
I’ve intermingled both as one
And made a perfect fit:

If next of kin against ye sins,
Return ye with a friend,
But keep in mind, you’ll all be fined
If more than two attend.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Help for Harry

The august leader Harry Reid
Has now decided and decreed
That FEMA needs a money spike
Of double what the House would like.

As Harry’s will is made of steel,
He will not compromise or deal;
To make the GOP relent,
He plans to close the government.

For in the vast and endless sea
Of federal bureaucracy
He cannot find a small offset
To counter adding to the debt.

Perhaps a simple test will find
That Harry Reid is mostly blind,
And could perceive what he has missed
With help from his optometrist.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Coming of Age

I signed up for the Day of Rage
To bring the bankers down,
To kill the kings of capital,
Or run them out of town.

For twenty thousand youth enraged
Can do most anything;
Just look across the Middle East
And watch the Arab Spring.

I worked my rage for days on end
To elevate its peak;
I screamed and shouted extra loud,
And practiced my technique.

I learned a dozen sixties songs
’Bout giving peace a chance,
And used the ATM nearby
To get a cash advance.

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Daddy Tax

I’ve got a painful deficit;
My spend exceeds my pay.
But rather than reduce my spend
I’ve found another way.

I’m willing to sustain my spend
By raising revenue;
The income from my brilliant plan
Should keep me in fondue.

It’s called an occupation tax,
Imposed on those who sleep
In any room within the house,
And rates are fairly steep.

With children who are working stiffs,
Employed at least part-time,
There is no need to let them sponge
On daddy dearest’s dime.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Week 2

Jacksonville may find a way
To beat the favored Jets today;
But I’ll take Gang Green
By ten to fifteen.

And in the game I plan to view
The Lions and a boy named Suh,
Will take down KC
By twenty to three.

And late tonight in Georgia’s Dome
The Falcons play to win at home;
They’ll win on a kick,
And beat Michael Vick.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Neighborhood AttackWatch

I’ve got some neighbors to expose
For watching right-wing TV shows.
I’m sure they are Obama’s foes,
And even now their number grows.

My next door neighbor’s name is Fred.
He hates Bernanke and the Fed,
And claims the US dollar’s dead;
He trades his cash for gold instead.

Another neighbor is a Jew
Who says he’ll never vote for you.
If I were you, I’d follow through;
I think he might be racist too.

A right-wing zealot I have seen
Down at the local putting green,
Is using words I find obscene
About your teleprompt machine.

Friday, September 16, 2011

24 From Mr. Gore

If twenty-four from Mr. Gore
Was that which you were waiting for,
You might check in a loony bin;
They have a wing for Albert’s kin.

Ms. Maggie Fox, who runs the box
From which Al Gore projects his vox,
Has had a thing for Climate Spring
And wants to make Big Oil swing.

But I would call September fall,
And note that Gore cares not at all
For verity, sincerity,
Or personal austerity.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

If You Love Me

If you love me and you know it, pass the bill!
If you love me and you know it, pass the bill!
If you love me and you know it,
And you really want to show it,
If you love me and you know it, pass the bill!

If you love me, don’t reject me, pass the bill!
If you love me, don’t reject me, pass the bill!
If you love me, don’t reject me,
Pass the bill and re-elect me,
If you love me, don’t reject me, pass the bill!

If you love me, tell John Boehner, pass the bill!
If you love me, tell John Boehner, pass the bill!
If you love me, tell John Boehner,
That you love the great campaigner,
If you love me, tell John Boehner, pass the bill!

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Obama Loves the Poor

Obama truly loves the poor,
Who ought to give him thanks:
His policies ensure that more
Will quickly join their ranks.

If misery loves company
He’s cornered countless votes,
By legislation and decree
And plans that he promotes.

We ought to thank him properly
For all the things he’s done
To lead us into poverty:
He is no doubt The One…

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Donkey Dumping

Barack, his horrible highness,
Has led the equus asinus,
     In poll after poll,
     Down into a hole;
His help at the top is a minus.

Barack has demanded the Hill
Consider his stimulus bill,
     Which even an ass
     Would shudder to pass,
And nobody thinks that it will.

Those jackasses, burros and jennies
Who’ve drawn us all down to our pennies
     Now wait for the skies
     To bring their demise
Like good climate-change Henny Pennys.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Krugman is a Coward

Give me a fake Giuliani,
Or give me a fake Forty-Three,
Give me a fake Bernie Kerick
When terrorists strike out at me.

Keep your Nobel Peace Prize winners
And keep your economists too,
Who call for community service
To celebrate what we’ve been through.

I’d rather a president’s actions
Be straightforward, sharp and defined,
Than burdened with doubt and inaction
And leading the troops from behind.

And when we recall nine-eleven
When buildings and fields were aflame,
We thank the good Lord for our leaders –
And leave to Paul Krugman his shame.

And what better way to remember
Than seeing the leftists exposed,
When giving such aid to jihadists –

Sunday, September 11, 2011

The American Way

How sad this anniversary day
Is sullied by the Bloomberg way,
With censure for the ones who pray
And those we owe, but can’t repay.

For those the mayor turns away,
And those who died that awful day,
We ought to bow our heads and pray:
That is the American way.

Week 1

The simplest pleasures in life
Require a man and a wife,
     The children of same,
     And Sunday’s big game, 
And steaks with a fork and a knife.

Despite any pain or regrets,
Your finances, mortgage and debts
     Will vanish away,
     Like cuts of fillet,
When Dallas kicks off to the Jets.

Whatever your city or team,
Each season begins with a dream:
     To root for a win
     With kith and with kin,
And gallons of Cookies-n-Cream.

Saturday, September 10, 2011


That Will’s an odd, uncertain cat;
He means then this, and means now that.
When Will is used, you might look at
The many ways he hangs his hat.

A fixed intent or certain plan
Is often well within his span.
But oftentimes, our leading man
Will cat about as Should or Can.

And Will likewise means legacy,
The hot bloodline, the family tree.
It may do well for you and me,
But future heirs may disagree.

Friday, September 9, 2011

Beware the Chair

Of San Francisco fare
One ought to be aware,
For in the public square
Some residents are bare.

And no Godiva hair,
Nor tall Godiva mare,
Is needed to forswear
Your britches by the pair.

The people there don’t care
If all the public share
Your dearth of outerwear
And lack of underwear.

But now there is a scare
About this great affair,
For some would like to spare
The folks who visit there.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Nothin' New Under The One

Pelosi is beside herself
     With Boehner’s foul play:
His sole response
Is nonchalance
     To what Barack will say.

To heal Pelosi’s troubled mind
     I offer here below,
My answers to
Obama’s view;
     She’ll find them apropos:

An interactive power point
     That counts the red Chinese,
Who got the jobs
The union mobs
     Have driven overseas;

A ninety-minute video
     Displaying Biden’s gaffes,
And on the side
A rolling slide
     Of unemployment graphs;

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Civility Flexibility

I’ve read the Times from front to back,
And even gave the Post a whack,
But nowhere did I chance to see,
On pages one through eighty-three,
A lesson on civility.

I guess the Times and Post forgot
That when Ms. Giffords took a shot
They blamed it on the GOP,
Conservatives and Tea Party,
And hateful incivility.

The President then gave a speech
He thought would help repair the breach
Of rising volatility,
Which, coupled with hostility,
Had led to incivility.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

The High Road

I didn’t have the Labor Day
I hoped that it would be:
I first was called barbarian,
And then an SOB.

And what, you ask, may I have done
To cause such repartee?
I registered Republican,
And voted GOP.

I stood against Obamacare
And claimed the right to work,
Which makes the liberal Democrats
And unions go berserk.

I scoffed at Mr. Harry Reid,
And wrote a little verse
That mocked Ms. Debbie Wasserman,
Which makes me even worse.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Labor Day

Before we wield the carving fork
To segregate our share of pork,
We ought to bow our heads and pray
For those without a job today.

And when the beer or wine is poured,
We ought to stop and thank the Lord
For giving us our daily work
As CEO or shipping clerk.

But after all our thanks are said,
For job and home and daily bread,
We then can rush the big buffet
And raise a toast to Labor Day.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

The Perfect Storm

As thunder rumbles through the house,
I heed the counsel of my spouse
And stumble off to lie in bed,
To rest my weary frame and head.

The storm which passes overhead
Ensures I lie awake instead,
Atop the layered bits of foam
Enclosed within a frame of chrome.

The thunder shakes our ancient home,
Which trembles from its base to dome.
I toss aside the sheets and spread,
For any hope of rest has fled.

I ponder on a simple thread
Of verse appearing in my head
About a storm, a bed, a house,
And heeding counsel from a spouse.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

I Only Saw the Bus

With apologies to Emily Dickinson, author of I Never Saw a Moor

I only saw the bus,
I didn’t see the plane;
I thought he drove from here to there.
Would someone please explain?

I saw the helicopter,
I didn’t see the car;
Why does he change from here to there?
He needs a travel czar.

Obama’s travel dramas
Are curious indeed;
He must be hiding from his foes –
Or maybe Harry Reid.

I’m sure he has his reasons,
Or maybe it’s a trick;
I’m hoping in November ’12
To see his walking stick.

Other posts on transportation and travel:
     The Magic Bus

Friday, September 2, 2011

Obama Standard Time

The campaigner-in-chief
Holds the firmest belief
That the planets all orbit his frame;
He’s excluding, of course,
Our reduced labor force,
For he wants to give Congress the blame.

Back in August of ’10,
He had promised that when
He returned from vacationing days,
He would offer a plan
To restore, to a man,
Full employment, along with a raise.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

‘Try, Try Again’ Revisited

With apologies to T. H. Palmer, author of Try, Try Again

If at first you don’t succeed,
Let Joe Biden intercede;
He’ll secure a guarantee
From his friends at DOE.

If you still cannot succeed,
Ask for help from Harry Reid;
He’ll secure a major grant
To construct a newer plant.

When investors start to frown,
Call for help from Jerry Brown;
California’s cash machine
Opens when the jobs are green.

When your banker starts to frown,
Hitch your pants and buckle down;
Blame the poor economy
As you move to bankruptcy.