New daughters too then see their day,
As the used up old fair pass away,
And the brighter young can in their turn,
Seek their creator’s iron rules to spurn.

One day mankind may beat the odds,
And take on the powers of the gods.
Sure on that day He’ll mold an image,
And include within his toy’s equippage,
A strictly limited telomere,
To set for it a cliff that’s sheer.

For once a former God is whipped,
Displaced by his toy free will equipped,
The former toy learns something odd,
About possession of the mind of God,
Namely, knowledge of the entire script,
Makes the endless now a boring crypt.

Mere mechanical beasts are not a cure,
For their script entire a God knows for sure,
To divert a toy must have free will,
And at least a chance to climb the hill,
There to displace its God, a bitter pill

It’s a hundred percent fact,
That the truly pure,
Are more or less demure,
And don’t make a show,
Of a holy man act.

Those precious few don’t affect the case,
For the utterly pure never win the race,
Which always goes to the mostly base,
Cause none of us likes very much to be,
Reminded too much that we’re deeply flawed,
Though we talk a bit about being awed,
By those few among us who walk with God.

Then too the vast mass,
Of the flawed and crass,
Like nothing better in the end,
Than a deep and sweet crow,
At the predicament of them,
Who get caught, caught, caught,
Where they ought not go.

Who’s to say the vast herd,
Isn’t better off for the word,
To get around and resound,
Among the flawed but sound,
That if you should get caught,
Doing what you shouldn’t ought,
Ninety Seven Percent will pretend,
That your act was round the bend,
And the mocking, the mocking, will never end.

In Washington he set out to do,
Such as is done by Daley’s crew.

There was ecstasy for nigh a year,
His soothing voice allaying the fear,
Reaction to his spending was surely near,
Out where jobs were the biggest need,
Under the radars of Pelosi and Reid,
Gone were the Dems in NJ and VA,
Huge then the shock at the loss in MA

[show_avatar email=sullyaugustine@aol.com align=right avatar_size=50]

[prologue and invocation]

Rise, rise, cold Solstice Sun
There’s scarcely time in day for fun,
And tooth of wind is frightful keen,
As heatless Sun is briefly seen.

Now HopeyChangeys roam the land,
Devouring brains at every hand,
While Demons hatch an evil plan,
To smother granny when they can,
By barring meds when she gets frail,
And her general health begins to fail.

* * *

[amphibious interlude]

The irregular frog emits a cry,
He’s busy spanking Queen Jane’s hind end,
It irks him I disdained to lie,
And revealed he spurned Francais provend.

* * *

It’s back there in the comment log
fuster surely wrote the phrase inhuman,
“You wouldn’t catch a frog,
eating a (primitive) Frenchwoman.”

* * *

Knit one, purl two,
And in the warp and weft,
Is evidence to stew,
A frog of ample heft.

* * *

[Health Care in D-flat]

Death Panel, be not proud,
though they have enacted thee.
Mighty and dreadful, thou art so;
For those whom thou overthrow
Die and suffer, cowed;
but yet thou cannot named be.

What’s in a name?
A panel by any other name its woe can wreak.
A soothing name carries no shame.
Tis not thy name that makes thee man’s potent enemy.

* * *

Cthulthu spreads across the land,
His tentacles like vines on sand,
From Well of Souls to farthest strand.
The Shining City on a Hill,
Becomes ground he scours for the kill.
Entangling both the bold and meek,
He pulls them toward his savage beak.
Scream and struggle though they may,
They’re drawn to torture day by day.

* * *

The Dunkirk meme is as analogy bad,
Tis readily seen vice Stalingrad,
The one was withdrawal after sore defeat,
The other total loss of all who were beat.
From the Dunkirk beaches streamed three hundred thou,
Who fought again once replenished enow,
While from Stalingrad’s streets not a one was saved,
For there the victor more smartly behaved.

The crucial question vis health care bill,
Is whether the Dems can cinch the kill.
A bridge too far the bill may be,
We must work and act and wait and see,
If the evil wind that they’ve just sown,
Will rebound and whirl away their own.

* * *

[denouement]

With Sol passing low in frigid sky,
It’s hard indeed to keep spirits high,
But a seed set now in hope and reason,
Will bring life forth in harvest season.

* * *

The Sun! It returns!
Joy to all old heads!
Hey, That needle burns.
I don’t need more meds.

* * *

[epilogue:  climate apocalypse]

Arctic bears, bereft of seals,
Sorely burned by the sun,
Taking nutritious meals,
At a teeming Vegan run;
Scooping from their wheels,
Certified organic edibles,
Served up in convertibles.

† † †

No nurse, nor parent dear can know
The way those infant feet must go;
And yet momentous change and hope
Are sealed within that horoscope.

But woe his thought is to grievance led,
And radical tutelage turns his head
To arrogance, arming for the morn
For whose behest this man was born.

A man of clean and well spoken ways,
Fast he achieves Joe Biden’s praise,
And soon this font of hope has won,
The seat and sway of great Lincoln.

But instead of soothing disparate strands,
He uses that seat to impose radical stands,
Barely one year after his office accession,
He provokes loose talk of a second secession.

Apologies to Julia Ward Howe who wrote about a great man.

Vapors rise as
Fever settles on an acid sea

Snow glides from the mountain
Ice fathers floods for a season
A hard rain comes quickly

Then dirt is parched
Kindling is placed in the forest
For the lightning’s celebration

The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
Here are your tools

Fly, fly, my loyal pets
Settled science trumps dog ate my data nonsense
Gather, gather, my faithful tools

Fed by limos and private jets
The feasting in Copenhagen can now commence
To hell with those base born fools

I cannot tell a lie. I added a couple of stanzas to Albert Gore, Jr.’s poetry presented above. My stanzas are the ones that rhyme.

Tiger, Tiger, fleeing wife
Stomped the gas for very life,
Crashed a hydrant on the lawn,
Lots of questions in the dawn,
A roaming Wood can lead to strife.

There he is!
Filled with hot air, he is!
Diversest of them all, he is!
Reading off his spiel, he is!
Mister President!!!

Sent a metric ton of massy metal,
To feel out lunar soil’s fettle.
And cunning careful cameras set,
To record impact on lunar rill,
Ensure the wants of public met,
Make time long record of the thrill,
Assure balmy days for budget till.

But, oh! When stopwatch ended countdown,
To indicate the mighty crashdown,
Appeared no hint of fiery flash down,
There on Selene’s apparition.

Were the cameras to be faulted,
For missing flash on Moon assaulted?

Or had some Lunar Politician,
Told Ace, a junior lab technician,
“Strip down that leftover techy thing,
From building that new Saturn ring,
Set a force field strong and watchful,
To stop this arrogant man tossed missile. ”

“Include a grokking gizmo, Ace,
To do that thing of the Martian race.
Twist that racing Terran thing,
Clear outa this here four D space.
Enough of taking human guff!
Teach those Earthlings right enough,
That they’re not really red hot stuff!”