Rhymes in Times

I don’t know but I been told we been here since days of old. I’ve heard tales of a long-ago roamer whose Aegean sagas were told by Homer. Verses of Israel came through Solomon. History leaves tracks as stories seem to follow men. Animated fables were told by Aesop forerunners of twentieth century bebop. Early sports reporting came through Pindar like stadium snacks now served by the vendor. Roman rhymes came through Virgil; Euro heroes leaped o’er every hurtle. Beowulf came along with tale of Grendl which now you can read about on any Kindle. If you think I’m stretching lines to make a rhyme It’s because my rhymes are only worth a dime As Arlo had sung he don’t want a pickle He just wanna ride on his motor-cicle. My rhymes here detected the Daily Caller. for which I wouldn’t give a greenback dollar But as usual I regress So to my silly rhymes I will address Cuz Joyce said God could make a tree but poems were writ by fools like me. Now this here rhyme rant started when my overloaded brain farted I’m not making this up I’m going to make sure this poetic cup fills up; y’all listen up! I was trying to find an historical rhyme about our situation now and the one back in time When the Senate Committee to investigate heard testimony about the break-in at Watergate. T’was a crime commissioned by tricky Dick Nixon When he enlisted some burglars for political fixin’ But the Senate committee investigated the crime; Then that dirty tricks crew did their time Now we see a similar crime that got investigated When the January sixth rebels were interrogated. They’d been trying to steal the election with a trump-instigated insurrection. But later, when the dust had settled Our US House put pedal to metal to convene, by House committee in session and administer investigative detection. So the special House Jan6 interviews reminded me of that old Watergate news and Senator Sam with his Carolina drawl. Please, ye Americans remember the history, y’all! But this it time ’t’was conducted by Rep Benny as they conducted enquiries, so many. Now our 2024 election’s next Tuesday I hope the American. people remember past days when a President learned the hard way that crime don’t pay Then those Watergate crimes were discovered Now like those tricky Dick treasons that got uncovered We have a new strain of lawbreaking discovered. With such a critical election only six days away we must condemn that insurrectionist fray

I urge you to vote against that January sixth mob cuz to maintain our Republic is the People’s job Don’t let him back in—chief insurrectionst trump but choose Harris and Kick donnie out on his rump!

The Second Beasting

this poem written with appreciation for W B Yeats’ earlier poem, the Second Coming: Streaming and scheming in the widening web The viewer cannot trust the site People drift apart; the real world is not told Mere vanity is used for show The magamania is loosed, in every here and there the counterfeit of propriety is launched Insurrectionists lack all legitimacy, while citizens are puzzled in gaming irrelevance. Now foul destruction falls upon the world; it’s Vlad’s constant invasion’s by design. This second time around, a Crimean re-run now resounds While distant memory of Sudetenland confounds Troubling our sight, somewhere in the Euro lands a shape with swastika’d sleeve and moustach’d beast in salute as rudely crude as third reich brood is thrust on newly-armored legions, while all below it reel shadows of indignant Euro birds. The darkness descends again, and now we fear that nine decades of stony slumber,

now are vexed to nightmare by a KGB rumbler And what beast, its undead claws now released, slouches toward Ukraine to rip it torn from Euro peace? Glass half-Full

Listen, Americans, and I shall tell ya of the hero who stopped a maga rebellion On the sixth of January, 2021: He swung a. gavel, not a gun. Many a citizen, still alive still remembers that deep dive into treasonous mad rebellion by a herd of magamaniac hellions. But there was one brave man who stopped the show, While rioters shouted go, go go! VP Mike said NO NO NO. That's not the way it's done. No, not by the power of the gun Nor by the force of insurrection. We will not go in that direction! The Joker had drummed up their maga ire; it burned hot like confederate fire: a zombie contrivance of the old rebel yell a twisted revival for slavery's hell! As the war drums pounded in Congressional halls Traitors sent out their insurrection calls. Gallows for VP Pence were erected outside while the joker stoked madness in the maddening tide as if Mike's honor depended on the joker's plot while insurrectionists drummed up a fury so hot! But when Security led our Congress to safe places those traitorous gamblers lost all their aces. So they danced around for awhile liked they owned the place but really they were drumming up a great disgrace. But Mike Pence knew as the American people did too 't'was the witch of Endor, a maga staffer say'in' the trump shall be prez hereafter! But Mike Pence knew as the American people did too that their votes, being counted would show the insurrectionists routed, far, far away to the hovels of maga-land where their rocky rebellion would sink in the sand. And so, while Mike was escorted to a safe place far below the riot, away from the maga rats' race, His aides sought counsel in desperate prayer as Mike's family huddled in the hovel downstairs, Advisors Marc and Greg sought wisdom in Scriptures as, floors above, insurrectionists ripped their riptures slashing here and destroying there having for our Congress not a care holding no respect for Constitution, nor reverence for our lawful institutions. But after many hours of terror and destruction Our Metro and Capitol Police ended that obstruction. In the wee hours of Jan7 morning after the riotous Jan6 storming, Congress re-convened to count Electoral votes, thus restoring our American electoral hopes. They counted the Electoral votes; thus defeating the insurrectionist dopes. On the 7th of January, 1921 Mike swung his gavel, not a gun. Many a citizen, still alive still remembers that deep dive into treasonous mad rebellion by a herd of magamaniac hellions. But Mike saved the day by upending the fray swinging his gavel in Lawful duty while magas clung to their trumpian booty. But for their booty I wouldn't give you a dime 'cuz our Constitution prevails, time after time. And I told them that! said Amos to Andy as they sat. Listen, Americans, and you shall hear how Mike Pence saved our Republic, so dear! Go to Dome, directly to the dome. Do not pass go; do not collect dollars Go complain to your Daily Callers! We like calling America home, while magas wail and insurrectionists roam.  Go on! skeedaddle! We don't want your magamania battle! Glass half-Full

Insurrection Indictment

Read this selection from Article 2 of our US Constitution: "The President of the Senate shall, in the presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the certificates (from the State Legislatures), and the votes shall be counted. The person having greatest Number of Votes shall be the President." This is the Constitutional Law that donald trump broke when he gathered a crowd of people to obstruct our Vice President's performance of duty to count votes from the State Legislators. That was in January of 2021. The administration of Justice in our country takes place in Courts of Law. In the Insurrection case now being prosecuted in Federal Court, Prosecutor Jack Smith was required by the US Supreme Court to clarify what crimes were committed by donald trump in his capacity as a candidate, thus separating his actions as a candidate from his actions performed as chief executive of the US. It's a legal technicality. Prosecutor Jack Smith's document identifying trump's offenses is a "superceding indictment." It is 2000 pages long, as every detail of trump's acts and every detail of the laws broken, is laid out for Judge Chutkan, and the jury, to see. As former federal prosecuter Glenn Kirschner has explained https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgBkBYVcx3k on his Justice Matters podcast: "Most pages are almost completely redacted (names and other information not appropriate for general public). The printed pages reveal transcripts from the grand jury investigation, notes from FBI interviews conducted during years-long investigation, such as donald trump's "find votes" phone call to Georgia Secretary of State, photos of some fake "elector certificates" that were falsely presented as legitimate by the trump conspirators, and Vice President Mike Pence's letter to Congress explaining why he chose to do his Constitutional duty as President of the Senate, instead of playing along with trump's criminal conspiracy. Why am I writing this to you? As a citizen of our United States of America, one of the millions of We the People, I consider it my duty to remind my fellow-citizens of these important issues surrounding the election of 2020, but perhaps more importantly, the election of 2024. Lastly, looking back into our history: At the start of our separation from Britain in 1775. . .As one revolutionary American citizen had signaled, near Boston, to another citizen who stood in the tower of the Old North Church. . . "one if by land, two if by sea." So do i signal to you, now, this reminder of what is happening in our Federal Court that should prove trump's role as chief insurrectionist of the assault on our Congress and our Capitol on January 6, 2021. . . and render him therefore not eligible to be voted, again, the Chief exective. Here's my signal from this old 2024 church person, who stands within the watchtower of dutiful citizens' observation: We must not appoint the chief insurrectionist as Chief Executive!

Glass half-Full

Time and Time Again

First there is Time; then there is time again. The most obvious thing about Time is that it is happening right now. I don't know what you are doing at this moment. But I do know what I am doing. I am sitting in my living room, with brilliant sunshine streaming in as it passes through the millions of autumn leaves, green and gold and brown, that hang in the hundred or so forest trees on our mountainside here in the Blue Ridge.

Please string along with me for this moment of reflection. Our house, built on the sloped edge of a small mountain in the Blue Ridge, was not damaged when Helene blasted her way through western North Carolina. But there is something about catastrophic events that prompts a composed response on the keyboard, an offering up of literary sacrifice… what used to be called literature, to commemorate the event that changed the lives of people in a thousand Blue Ridge households. So now, here I peck away at the keyboard. A chronicler of my age cannot resist the urge, after such a whirlwind, to peck out a few thoughts about life and the challenges thereof. So. . . here I sit in the golden, indoor sunshine, listening to Classical WDAV, 89.9 FM streaming out of Davidson North Carolina. Suddenly I was hearing one of my old favorites - an orchestral concerto that was first heard in baroque Venice about 300 years ago. As if by magic, the golden glamour of afternoon sunlight streaming through golden leaves, accompanied by the sound of Vivaldi's "Autumn" concerto, transported me to - not a different time and place; I am still here in my home in 2024 - but to a different frame of mind. I had a notion to find my old CD player and listen to all four of Vivaldi's Four Seasons concertos, which is what streams through my ears and brain as I write this. I feel a strange fascination, cranking up that CD player, a device that I have not laid eyes on in many a year. Like I mentioned in the title above. . . Time, and time again. . . cranking up an obsolete device to listen to a musical masterpiece that will never be obsolete. Put that thought in your glass and sip it. All this self-entertainment because the internet is down after Helene blew it away, Imagine that! When the newfangled stuff fails, the old tech gets retrieved from the closet for a spin down memory lane. So I take leave of our Blue Ridge Mountain homestead, intending to drive the four miles to the Boone Library for Wi-fi, to post this reflective moment on the world wide web, so you folks out there in cyberspace will catch feeling about Helene, or autumn in the Blue Ridge, or the passing of time . . But guess what ! You just never know what little glitch will get spun into your path. I had to change a flat on the old Subaru before spinning my way to the Library to post the blog. Then, by that time, the library was closing, so I had to duck into Josiah's Venture wine and chocolate shop on King Street, to get to the Wi-fi. This time of day I'm not into the Local Lion coffee gathering place. No problem. A glass of Cabernet and its a good day for posting a blog about Time, memory, and recovery in the aftermath of what was - for hundreds of people in my region - a cataclysm that totally rearranged their lives. But not mine. I'm just happy to be alive, still able to appreciate the sunshine through home windows, and a beautiful place to live, on an autumn day in the Appalachian mountains. Glass half-Full

The Ballad of Brett and Blasey

Listen to an ole song I composed, back in 2018, when the Senate Judiciary Committee was blazin' through a Supreme Court nomination: You can hear it sung, home style, here: Here's the story: Lindsay and Mitchie were gettin kinda itchy just to leave the Judiciary behind. . . Chuck and his committee, workin' for the ditty, trying to get Brett's nomination on time. . . On Committee fence Jeff Flake sat, cuz victims' rantings knocked him flat. Lindsay and Mitchey, still a pushin' forward in the Senate. . . you know where's that at . . . And no one's getting tweet 'xcept Blasey Ford! Lindsey said to Grassley we need to go fastly just to push this nomination on through. Let's go fast; but Flake said to Grassley we just cant pass it until we truly know what to do. On Committee fence Jeff Flake sat, cuz elevator tirades knocked him flat. Lindsey and Mitchey still a-pushin' forward in the Senate you know where that's at, and no one's gettin tweet 'xcept Blasey Ford. When Blasey was in high school, accosted by a drunk fool (she said it was the nominee). In committee testifying: implied the nominee be lyin' and stop his nomination immediately! 'cuz he was talkin' crazy back in school days! She said he had accosted, in a drunken haze. Lindsey and Mitchie still a-pushin' forward in the Senate. You know where that's at. . .and no one's gettin' tweet 'xcept Blasey Ford.

Ah, Ole school, Senate rules; smart fools; America drools. The escalating hype is so strong! Ah, tweet up, face up; everything is hype-up, to make drama, and drama prolong. Now here come, y'know, a last minute surprise: Jeff proposed a compromise! Lindsey and Mitchie still pushin' forward in the Senate; y'know where that's at. And no one's gettin' tweet 'xcept Blasey Ford. Ah. . . broke, busted and Blasey can't be trusted. Mitichie wants to go to the floor. Diane can't take it; she says she'll have to shake it; we knew she'd wanna shut that door. Slidin' on procedures and rules. Y'know it's low-ball; but politics is old-school! Blasey's 'criminations and sad accusations can't go on indefinitely. And Brett's nomination is becoming a reality! Glass half-Full

Court a Lot

While touring the JFK Library at UMass yesterday I snapped a pic of President Kennedy, long past.

Now watching news of more recent yesterday I detected ’tween then and now a stark contrast. And so on this bright and sunny Boston day I revise an old show tune to elephants and ass: A song, to be sung to the tune of “Camelot”, as sung by Richard Harris in the 1967 movie of the same name: A law was made a distant moon ago here: Civil War rebellions must not burn too hot, and there’s a legal limit to the rebels here in Court, a lot. Yes, here in Chutkan’s court we shall see Justice as prosecutor’s case reveals a lot in evidence of the joker’s private plot here in Court: a lot. We see the wheat set apart from chaff here as official duties fade behind a private plot ‘cuz a President has no business breaking laws here in Court, a lot. Supremes had made an order in their Court here: As Merlin’s magic likewise had begot: Immunity’s woven from whole cloth here in Court, a lot. So go ask Jack to make a list here to separate official acts from those that are not Cuz there’s legal limit to trump’s plot here in Court a lot. So Jack got busy in his task here of culling private acts from those that are not depending on who was called to smear our Rule of Law, in Jan6 riots, so hot. No President ought our Constitution smear whether in private or official, he should not but if Jack must spell it out so clear here We believe he’ll give it all he’s got: One hundred eighty special pages here, of private acts on January 6th, so hot! Insurrectionary gangs from far and near having no official duties, so they fought! Against our Capitol and DC police here Where violence and killing ought be not Cuz a Law was made a distant moon ago here in Court a Lot! Glass half-Full

Shutout at the Jan6 Corral

“There must be some way back into here” said the trumpster to the thief, whilst sitting in his oval hovel, whining and dining, pretending to be a Winner. But truth be told, now according to the People of the United States he was no winner, but rather. . . a loser, not what he presumed himself to be, no, no winner at all. . . but rather no more than a mere sinner. . . a loser who had been told by the people of the United States, “You’re Fired.” So now he had appointed himself to be the Chief Insurrectionist. Back in the day . . . on the jersey shore, it was . . . constructing tall towers high up into the sky, having them erected to a certain lofty point . . . and then stiffing the contractors, perfecting the fine art of having an ace up his sleeve, and a tangled web to weave as then he had purposed to deceive. But now, January 6, fateful day, the great game robbery, wherein the trumpster had drawn his Chance card. And it said, Go to hell, go directly to Losers’ hell. Do not pass go Do not collect even two dollars. Yet there he sat at the the pinnacle of power, sitting in the oval, commanding his minions of huliaani, while sidney hung towels out to dry in the beaten by ’n by, cuz the devil went down to Georgia looking for some votes to steal; but he couldn’t find any so he played his desperate wild card, except it didn’t do the trick—they couldn’t make the charges stick, so he ended up calling the peach state guv, with a desperado angling cast for 11,780 fishy wishes. Oh, but lamentable day. . . t’was all sound and fury signifying nothing, so he rounded up his proud toys and his oathweepers and this three deceptors and he sicced them onto the Dome. He sent ‘em into the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave. . . yessirree, he did, he cut ‘em loose at the rotunda to bust glass with a 2x4

and to make thunder under the Rotunda and to the desecrate the sacred halls and to profanitize the walls and to fall upon the House ushers with putrid fountains of profanities while firing up the ire of the Vanities, until, in the unsweetened by ’n by, one man put a stop to it. One man, driven down into the depths of Capitol subterranean sub-State blue, said. . . wait for it! “I’m not getting in that car!” Even as Daniel of old, back in Babylon had said to ole King Neb, “I’m not bowing down to that entitled idol, so had Hoosier Mike said to his lackeys, “I’m not getting in that car!”

And the rest is history. Glass half-Full

Let Justice Roll on!

Let Justice roll down like the waters, and what is right, as a mighty stream!: A stream of information, revealing, in detail, to the American people, what obstructions donald trump attempted to foist on the American people on January 6, 2021. . . A filing by Special Prosecutor Jack Smith, released now by Judge Tonya Chutkan in the DC Circuit Court, alleging the former president’s attempt to corrupt the President of the Senate, Mike Pence, to convince the President of the Senate to forsake the counting of Electoral Votes that had been presented to Congress by the Electoral College, an electoral process established in Article II of our Constitution.

Now is the time for all men and women to come to the awareness of our Constitutionally-prescribed process by which our nation, properly and legally, elects our leaders, specifically in this case, the President of the United States. In the last Presidential election, the (incumbent at that time) president launched a vast conspiracy to steal the election. The scheme, the conspiracy to steal that election is revealed, in detail, by the 180-page filing that Prosecutor Smith has submitted to the Court for judgement to determine the guilt, or innocence, of donald trump. Forget all the noise of election-year politics. Forget the antics of the magamaniacs to divert attention to irrelevant stories that have nothing to do with our civic duty to, legally and legitimately elect a President who will perform his duties for the benefit of the American people. Let the foxes try to steal the vines of public media, but pay attention to our Justice Department and the DC Circuit Court, gaveled in and out by Judge Tonya Chutkan. Let Justice roll down like the waters, and what is right, as a mighty stream! Glass half-Full

New Day: 100 years!

So I was sitting here in my northwest North Carolina home, on a forested mountainside with sun shining through tall trees. (Thank God for trees!) Awakening from a good night’s sleep, sun shining in, I walked my way downstairs, cranked up the generator and called it (the beginning of) a day, another day of post-storm recovery,  here in the Blue Ridge.

Having survived the storm, having gotten through, as John Lennon had sung, another “day in the life.” I ascended our little stairway to heaven on earth . . . found my way upstairs and, as as Paul McCartney had sung it back in the day, “drank  a cup” of yesterday’s coffee.  So far, so good. With electrons now flowing through the temporary power setup, I tuned into NPR and heard a radio presentation about former President Jimmy Carter, who turns 100 today. Being a writer, I couldn’t resist the idea to reflect on the life that has transpired since good ole boy Jimmy took the helm after the disaster course our nation had traversed after the adventures of post-Watergate America:  Nixon in, then Nixon out, Ford in and then, and then, wait for it, Jimmy Carter in.  For this born’n’bred southerner, the news of Carter in the Oval was like a breath of fresh air.  I understand that, four years later, when Reagan achieved that office, the Republicans called in “morning in America.” Because, y’know, all the Watergate and post Watergate blah blah had blown over. Yeah, I know, he was the guy who arrested protesters back in California and now he was in charge of the whole kit’n’kaboodle.  Ok. So life goes on. I get it. But as Carter was, as Gladys Knight had sung it, taking the “midnight train” (back to) Georgia and Reagan was taking the helm, it just so happened that we were in an international crisis, because the Iranians were holding 444 Americans hostage in the American embassy in Tehran. (or was it 444 days that they had been held?) Anyway. . . I mean, those Iranians are still making trouble. . . but that’s another wild goose chase through time. (Don’t go there.) As I was saying. . .Just as Carter was leaving and Reagan was taking the mantle of Presidency, I assembled some friends and had them accompany me to sing this song, which I called “December ’79”. Actually the song was more about the ancient rivalry between the Jews and the Arabs in the middle east, but I used the moment in time to make a statement about how events in the ancient lands reflect an arc of history, and an ark of deliverance for those of mankind who are willing to turn to the Almighty to get through life, instead of just, you know, slogging through on their own strength. So I named the song “December ’79,” but just a few years ago I renamed it “We’ve Got a Song to Sing.”  The message therein is based upon the state of grace that Jimmy Carter had spoken of when he talked about being “born again,” which phrase had been lifted from chapter 3 of the biblical book of John, where a wise man Nicodemus was drawing wisdom from the Well as he was conversing with Jesus.  Remembering Carter today on his 100th birthday, I decided to toss up this old song that I had recorded, “with a little help from me friends,” back in the day. If you care to listen, you can hear it on:   “We got a Song to Sing"     http://www.careyrowland.com