Friday, June 12, 2026
Paris 1937
Thursday, June 11, 2026
My Milton Meditations
We’ve heard some big questions raised lately about the ancient book of Enoch. Now I don’t know but I been told that Enoch had written about the revolt of the angels, when they were cast out of heaven, long before this world was even around.
So I was remembering back to my college days at LSU, studying English literature. We read John Milton’s poem, published in the 1600’s, when the Brits were beginning to catch a whiff of democracy. Oliver Cromwell and a host of other rowdy Englishmen made their first attempt to convene a legislative Commons. King Charles I wasn’t into it, so he sent his soldiers out to stop the democratic outburst. So the English had a civil war in 1642, which might have motivated poet John Milton to compose his classic epic poem, Paradise Lost, about Satan’s rebellion against God, a disturbance that got him thrown out of heaven and banished forever. But I digress.
So, getting back to my theme for the day, Milton. . . there was another Milton that came to mind:
Milton Friedman, the economist who I remember as an originator of “trickle down” economics, back in the day, when President Reagan was trying to convert the Washington bureaucracy, the “deep state” to a more Republican way of doing things. Milton Friedman was a Nobel laureate whose home base was the University of Chicago. His conservative world view and economic theories had originated in his mind, as a reaction, when he was working in Washington in the Depression 1930’s, during the FDR New Deal days. Milton’s subsequent middle-of-the-country conservatism was a reactionary fiscal and academic retaliation against the liberal and their statist economic strategies of allocating money to the lower ends of society in the working class.
The Democratic worldview favored a “percolate” strategy in which funds and assets would be governmentally provided to the working folks, the lower classes of America. In contrast, Milton Friedman’s strategy was known as “monetarism”; it favored a a steady, minimal, explanation of the money supply, what some folks call “trickle down”. This 1970’s theoretical strategy was a reactionary response to the 1930’s New Deal policies, related to Keynesian economics, as had been theorized in Britain in the 1930’s. Milton Friedman called price/wage-fixing “economic overkill”.
We were recently in Chicago area, Northwestern University in Evanston, where I noticed this flyer pinned to a bulletin board, with a message of resistance against the conservative establishment at University of Chicago.
So much for battles, whether in heaven, hell, England, America, or wherever. . .
Lastly, in my Milton meditation, and on a lighter note. . . is Milton Berle, also known as “Uncle Miltie”. He was television’s first superstar. . . a comedian whose career had started back in. Vaudeville and early Hollywood. He had started as a stand-up comedian. This Milton’s life and career goes way back, to working with Charlie Chaplin in early Hollywood movies. Then. . . a pioneer in radio entertainment, he had a comedy broadcast sponsored by Campbell’s Soup, Philip Morris and Texaco. brands that were important to the greatest generation, my parents’ generation. When TV was experimental, Milton was right there, a pioneer who stood up for black performers on his shown, back in the day, when many Americans had not yet comprehended the “all men created equal” words of our Declaration of Independence. Elvis Presley’s earliest TV gigs were on Uncle Miltie’s show.
Lastly, there’s the town of Milton, Florida, on the panhandle where our family spent our earliest vacations, back in the day, 1950’s.
So there you have it, for what it’s worth. . . my Milton reflections from this 1951 baby boomer writer with a memory that refuses to surrender to the battle of amyloid plaque against brain cells. Go figure!
Glass half-Full
Tuesday, June 9, 2026
Two World Wars
Sarajevo rebel shoots Archduke. . . provoking world war puke: Austrian/ Kraut bullyhood suddenly in disarray. Kraut bellicosity says hey hey hey: let’s start the war today. So German panic goes manic. . .
But human folly is overflowing, Kraut aggression is growing, always has been, since bismark lit the spark of bellicosity, igniting European-wide atrocity. So krauts, hot to trot into the fray, turn around and attack the opposite way. Anxious to start the deathly dance; they make war on France! Russia rushes to the fray; can’t let France be blown away!
Brits and Belgians descend into mudding battlegrounds; Ottomans join as Germans amp up artillery rounds. Round and round the war goes and where it stops nobody knows. . . Krauts launch chemicals and chlorine gas, rendering this world war their most lethal task. From the Marne to the Gallipoli, the bloody business spreads so tragically. From Verdun to Istanbul the tragic damage done, soldiers, doughboys shot down. . . the deathly spiral swirls round and round.
Up in Russia, Czar Nicholas’ empire goes down; Bolsheviks take control from town to town. German tornadoes sink the Lusitania, American passengers perish in krout mania. Yankee doughboys take up the burden. . . of European war in Somme and Verdun.
Finally, with Germany surrounded, millions of artilleries having then been pounded, the nations signed an Armistice, fulfilling many a peaceful European wish, with a little help from their yankee friends. But pshaw! twenty years later they fought the war again!. . . when an Austrian corporal, with his weird mein kampf, launched third reich holocaust, to snuff again the European lamp.
https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834
Glass half-Full
Sunday, June 7, 2026
Times half time
In the darkest era of the 20th century, a little kraut colonel summoned up the demon of ancient iniquity, the destroyer, the mystery of iniquity. He mounted up the forces of hell itself to destroy the people who, for thousands of years, had written the pages of history.
The furious feurhrer wore down the defenders of mankind for a time, times and half a time. As the ancient prophet had foretold: (1933-45)
He will speak out against the Most High and wear down the people of the Highest One and he will intend to make alterations in times and in law, and they will be given into his hand, for a time, times and half a time. (Daniel 7:25)
Then the furious feurhrer, by his iniquity, ran his precious third reich into the fires of hell itself, even to a point of destructive desperation wherein he raised his gun to his own head and blasted himself dead in a Berlin bunker.
During the war, the American defenders of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness allied themselves with the Europeans to destroy the third reich and to clean up the mess that the third reich had inflicted on mankind.
Not long thereafter, the persecuted people, the ancient descendants of Moses, were released from their captivity and holocaust, liberated by the Americans and the British from their tribulations at Dachau and Treblinka and Auschwitz. As the ancient prophet had foretold. (1945-1948)
But the two wings of the great eagle were given to the woman, so that she could fly into the wilderness to her place, where she was nourished for time, times and half a time, from the presence of the serpent. (Revelation 12:14)
In 1967, the Israelis were able to gain access to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. They had ancient plans in mind,
which they have not yet been able to manifest, to, Lord willing, build another temple. This could take some time, and some serious negotiations.
So you are to know and discern that from the issuing of a decree to restore and rebuild Jerusalem until Messiah the Prince there will be seven weeks and sixty-two weeks; it will be built again , with plaza and moat, even in times of distress. (Daniel 9:25)
It is the opinion of this author that there is room enough on the Holy hill in Jerusalem for a temple to be built right next to the Al Aqsa mosque, if all parties would just settle down and heed the the advice of Jesus Christ who said: (Matthew 5:9)
“Blessed are the peacemakers; for they shall inherit the earth.”
Glass half-Full
Friday, June 5, 2026
The Big Middle
On Friday, we attended a middle school graduation; young people were completing 8th grade, having been prepared for the next big step in education . . . the next step in adolescent development. . . moving on toward high school.
In my youth, I had been at that stage in 1965. My class ascended past junior high school and into the big leagues, high school!
So, at this special even, this morning, student and faculty speakers were talking about “middle” school, and students being prepared to enter “upper school.” It was a little strange to me, because where I grew up, we referred to these phases of life education as “junior high” school and high school.
And then. . .for whatever reason. . . I know not what. . . I found myself contemplating this concept of “middle”. . . whatever that is . . . a word that can be used as an adjective or a noun.
I was contemplating “middle age”, which is a period of life that I used to qualify for, but at age 74. . . maybe not. Now it’s more like. . . what they call “old age.”
Even though I still feel like a middle aged person! Read ‘em and weep! Just kidding! It’s all good, y’all. Life is good, and there’s so much middle to muddle on. . .
There’s the middle ages:
And there’s Middle Earth, an imaginary place dreamed up by J.R.R. Tolkien, where hobbits’s live, where the shire is something like a middle ages way of living.
There’s the middle of the road, where the yellow line is, or the median, or whatever that keeps you from drifting over into oncoming traffic. . . . also the “middle of the road” in a symbolic political sense, where American citizens used to conduct their politics, back in the day. . .before magamania and the proud boys and their maralago donald attacked our Capitol, thereby magnetizing US politics so that most folks are either stubborn donkeys or lumbering elephants with not much in between.
Then there’s the middle of the country, which is roughly somewhere between New Orleans and Chicago and between, say, Ohio and Iowa, between Alabama and Texas. . .or maybe between one side of Kent, Ohio and the other
Let us hope and pray that those middle schoolers are never confronted with soldiers who were sent out to to quash their Constitutionally-guaranteed rights to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and their first amendment right to free speech and free assembly in the middle of the land of the free and the home of the brave.
King of Soul
Wednesday, June 3, 2026
Call Me Thishmail
Call me Thishmail. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having a few bucks and a baccalaureate, and nothing in particular to interest me in River City, I thought I would traverse the Gulf coast and establish meself in the fair city of St. Petersburg, to seek my game and fortune among the old folks who had made their home there.
Such was my fateful acceptance of this strategic relocation, chosen for me by insurance-peddling kinfolk, affording me the great American opportunity to translate a post-academic question into a business response. But that was a long time ago, miles and miles before I slept, and dreamed a dream and thereby drove my little yellow VW up to the Appalachian wonderland,
and long before the darkness of failure descended upon me and I ultimately redirected the VW to Waco, where I found myself in the presence of the Holy Spirit. . . you know— the One mentioned in the Book of Acts— and the Spirit of the Risen Lord redirected my voyage through the various gulfs of experience.
Later, on a fateful summer day, while the pipes were a-calling on Grandfather, I and my bride diverted our path up to the Boone trail, where the rest of life happened. . . in a Holy Spirit-led community of Christian believers, a fellowship of young families into which my bride and I introduced our three young ones to this world of wonder, woe, wealth and worship.
Monday, June 1, 2026
Temple Times
Temple come, Temple go, built in stones, row by row, like Michelangelo, sculpting inspirations of long ago. As years come andcenturies go: temples built high from stones below. Solomon had built a temple long ago. Alas! His temple’s history’s filled with woe; Nebuchandnezzer destroyed it to put on a show, until Cyrus let the Hebrews go, go, go to rebuild their temple, high up from low.
Herod’s show built on sacred mount a Roman show.
Messiah’s words, misunderstood, implied destruction, a woeful show, although he had been referring to his crucifixion woe, which update their ancient sacrificial show.
Temple come, Temple go, while eras come and go. Along comes Titus with his dreadful Roman show: Tear it down!; do not collect 200; do not pass go! Titus struck the fatal blow that Jesus had foretold, in one swift blow!
Jews in woe, renewed their ancient Exodic Go! Second exodus, y’know, and then a third, more diaspora woe! Centuries rolled by as Time did flow; along came Mo. . . hammed, in night flight journey he did go! On Buraq burrow he did go, arriving at the wall of ancient Hebrew woe. He climbed up ladder to view celestial show, remembering Jacob’s ladder long ago, which may be same, but I don’t know. I did dream a dream of Jacob’s ladder, many moons ago. So who am I to say about Mohammed’s show?. . . with Angel Gabriel. long time ago, with angels climbing to and fro. . .to see an Adam, Joseph, Enoch, Aaron, Moses show, patriarchs of long ago, all lit up in such incredible angelic glow. When Islam’s Prophet reached the top of his ascending show, he encountered Moses, patriarch of long ago: Law receiver, ancient believer, recipient of the YWHW glow. Moses advised him to negotiate, don’t ya know, about how many prayers one must say when negotiating with God from day to day.
Now I don’t know but I been told that wise men talk to God when they get old.
Solomon built that first temple long ago. Zerubbabel’s version brought the second show. Now I don’t know. . . I heard it through the grapevine: Isreali Jews prepare to whisk the sands of time and build another temple on the Mount, which would be their third, by my count.
Now the Jews are amping up their plans to erect their third temple there, built for God’s elect, so they say. . . and really, getting right down to it, you see. . .there’s only one place it could be! So one little problem we can discern, as Muslims fret and Hebrews burn: if Jews start digging in sacred Al Sharif ground, then the world may hear that dreaded sound, as Arab ire sends shots heard round the world, and temple stones get flung up in apocalyptic whirl.
Now I don’t know but I been told, this contention’s very old. We just don’t know what could go down, if Jews go digging Sharif ground. I mean. . . the Jews made it holy in ancient days; maybe they’re due some acreage in these Israeli days.
Just sayin’ . . . keep prayin’. Now I don’t know but i been told, the new temple awaits us in streets of gold!
Glass half-Full
Friday, May 29, 2026
Boomers Lament
Ole Noah led a quiet life until one day, when Creator YWHW told him to build an ark.It’s a good thing that he did. . . a lot has happened since then. After the great flood, the world was repopulated with humans, people. . . men and women.
As the human race spread out across the wide world, different levels of authority were manifested. Some folks worked and grew crops; some sought precious metals. Some enterprising people put crops and metals and animal skins and whatnot together to make useful things that people could use to do whatever. . .
In the historical development of these agricultural, industrial and mercantile developments, some men like to take charge of things; others were content to do just do their jobs, maybe raise a family, cultivate crops, crank out a few trinkets, tools or toys.
As the humans spread out across the world, certain men emerged beyond mere leadership to military control, recruiting soldiers along the way. So we witnessed the rise of empires.
Strong men, pharoahs and kings asserted their hegemony over tribes and nations. Solomon, Nebuchadnezzar, Artaxerses, Alexander, Caesar, Genghis Khan, William, Henry, Charles, George, and a host of others.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, the paths to leadership shifted beyond mere military might.Men began to measure power and authority according to wealth. Especially in Britain and America, financial power and technological mastery made it possible for entrepreneurs to take charge of institutions. . . manufacturers, financiers, distributors of goods and service were taking charge of things, while government people tried to make sure the powermongers were playing by the rules.
In America, Carnegie, Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, Ford and many other resourceful entrepreneurs were calling the shots. In recent years, one of those wheeler-dealers managed to get himself elected president. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, the old world of northern Europe, the Russians had tried to implement some Marxian theories to establish a communist nation, but . . . long story short . . . it didn’t work so well, so they took a giant step backwards and launched an effort to work toward a quasi-capitalist system. But that wasn’t working out so well either. . .so one wise guy who had figured out how to manipulate the Russians and their institutions took charge of the failed soviet state and morphed it into a good ole boys club, run by any oligarchs who were willing to work with the new czar. Who is he? you may ask. . putin in feign; ask me again and I’ll tell you the same. As for protest, Navalny nailed it, but they got rid of him.
Such is the fate of some dissidents, who are not as fortunate as our greatest Americans. . . back in 1776-81. But I digress (after attending Hamilton last night.)
Bottom line: nowadays we have a trilateral rendition trying to run the world. We’ve got a magamaniac capitalist in the west, an excommunist bureacrat and a Chinese wise guy calling all the shots. Today I heard that Vlad the Mad invaded Romania. . . sorta like when trump sent the oath bleepers and those other gangs to try and steal the election in 2021.
And that’s the way it is, May 29, 2026
(Where’s Walter Cronkite when you need him?)
Glass half-Full
Wednesday, May 27, 2026
Paris 1937
A scene from my novel, Smoke: in Paris, 1937.
Like a violin string stretched across the bridge of time, rendering some
rare vibrato of tenderness that struck now upon their resonant souls, a note
of empathetic enquiry sounded forth. Sandi Leblanc, sitting across the table,
a woman whose attentions were continually attuned to affairs of the heart
and issues of the spirit, asked carefully, slowly, “What is it, Madame, that
you and your family must find—what is it that would require crossing the
ocean, going all the way to America—to find? Surely you will not have to
travel so far for peace of mind?”
Helene wiped the tears from her cheek. “What we seek, Madame
Leblanc, is a young man, a good man in the very flower of his youth; but he is
locked inside Dachau prison—our son, Heinrich. And now it is so very hard
to decide what is to be done. Should we stay or go?”
“Even if you must go. . .somewhere. . .must it be to America? Why not
wait here, here in Alsace. You are close here, close enough to respond
quickly, if Heinrich were to be released. If you were all the way to the United
States, your help for him would be almost impossible.”
“Our travel visas here are good only for two weeks. But we have relations
in New York—they are our people, Jews like us—who are working on our
behalf. They are even willing to deposit thousands of US dollars in the banks
for us, and send affidavits to endorse for our immigration, so that we can
obtain visas to enter the United States and start a new life there.”
https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834
Tuesday, May 26, 2026
To Do or not to Do
To do or not to do; that is the question:
Whether ’t’was nobler in the colonial leaders’ minds to suffer the slings and arrows of King George’s abuses, or to take arms against his tea tax and his stamp act, and his aggressive attacks, and by opposing, end them?
To give up, to fuhgedabowdit, aye, there was the rub, for in that slumber of appeasement. . . what dreams of liberty and justice for all. . . might might have been done away with and forgotten?
Oh, what regrets about what might have been. . . if our founders had shuffled off their Revolutionary coil? What regrets would have come, if, by submitting, they had not endured the thousand oppressive shocks that Liberty and Justice for demands of us?
This conundrum did give them pause, and yet, I still wonder. . .where would we be today if they had not borne the whips and scorns of outrageous fortune, to overcome a king who was tyrannical and covetous?
Even so, y’all, nowadays. . . We the People have been tolerating the slings and arrows of outrageous magamania;
And yet. . . and yet. . .
We the People will bear the abuses of the foxes who steal the vines of Liberty, We will strive to prevent the proud boys and the oath bleepers and the the 3 percent who are oligarchs from tipping the circuits of Ai against us all,. We will duly note the abuses until we, by Rule of Law found in our Constitution, in our Congress and in our courts and in our ballot boxes. . . do overcome the slings and arrows of outrageous magamania and gerrymandering!
Glass half-Full
Sunday, May 24, 2026
Creative Evolution
I have thinking about this world ever since I popped out of my mother’s womb in 1951.I was born and raised as a child, guided along by my Catholic mother and my hard-working father, a lapsed Baptist.
Mama sent me to a Catholic school. It was good; I did well, serving as student council president before graduating in 1969. In 1970, I went to the other end of Baton Rouge, moved into a dorm room in north stadium at LSU.
In the introductory philosophy class, Dr. Henderson lectured about Rene Descartes famous statement, “I think, therefore I am”. (I mentioned that lecture in chapter 9 of my novel, King of Soul.) A year or two later, the Moody Blues followed up on that principle with an extension: “Of course you are, my practical star!”
Anyway no matter what you can, or cannot, figure out. . .Life is good!
Today, May 24, 2026, Memorial Day Sunday, I was reading the Bible. We read in Genesis that Cain killed his brother Abel, and so the Lord punished him. Cain wandered out into the wild parts of the earth, but he got scared. He cried out to the Creator with the fearful complaint that whoever would find him would kill him.
The Creator, YWHW, revealing his merciful nature, put a mark on Cain that made it clear to other earth inhabitants that they should not mess with Cain.
“Then Cain went out from the presence of the Lord, and settled in the Land of Nod, east of Eden. Cain had relations with his wife, and she conceived, and gave birth to Enoch. After that, several more generations brought forth another character named Enoch, who has lately been the subject of much attention, because he wrote a book.
I can relate. Having written and published four books myself. But as I was saying, ruminating on digression. . . several thousands of years rolled by. . .
Along comes a smart fellow, Charles Darwin. Watching animals on Galapagos, his scientific mind noticed patterns in the animal kingdom; and so he presented his theory of natural selection, better known as the theory of evolution.
Ever since Darwin, our human race has witnessed a whirlwind of theories, discussions, controversies about the origin of the human race.
But here’s the good news! I’m here to tell ya that it’s all good. I’ve got this question figured out. There’s no argument between the religion folk and the scientific folk. There is really no controversy between Genesis and Darwin’s evolution. Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel. . . they were a special project that Creator YWHW set up in the garden of Eden. But because Adam and Eve had free will , they blew it.
Meanwhile, back at the evolutionary ranch, east of Eden, there was another divine project going. on.
The truth includes both/and:Creation and Evolution.! Cain was a son of God, created in YWHW’s special Eden project. But when he was banished from Eden, he entered into the natural world, the animal kingdom in which natural selection and genetic genesis was the determinant. The genetic code was, you might say, the new sheriff in town, but the Lord, who wrote the code, was still Lord of all heaven and earth.
So. . . Meanwhile, back at the evolutionary ranch, east of Eden, there was another divine project going. on, with a different set of rules.
In Genesis, chapter 6, we find this: “Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them, that the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves. . .
Cain was a son of God, created in YWHW’s special Eden project. And even though
he screwed up the Lord’s special project, the Lord set him free in this world anyway.
As for history, and the descent of man through it. . , the truth is plain to see.
The Lord of Creation had two projects going. One was the Eden project, which didn’t work out. The other was the animal kingdom, with homo erectus at the forefront, manifesting a special status as “crown of creation.” . . .
or the crown of evolution. . . whichever perspective floats your analytical boat. . .
It’s both/and, y’all!
So where did Cain find his wife? In the land of Nod, where evolutionary natural selection was the divine order of the day, the order of the earth evolutionary age. The special project in Eden had not worked out according to plan, because YWYH God took a chance on free will.
But a few thousand years later, the Lord’s second special project did work out well. That was project in which Creator YWHW sent his only son, Jesus Christ, into this world, to teach us how to live. . . (see Sermon on the Mount, Matthew chapter 5&ff). . . and to demonstrate that human life, properly lived, in spite of our fallen condition, can be corrected with a Christian attitude and Faith. Thereby, eternal life does indeed transcend death!
It’s all good, y’all. You just gotta believe: Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
And if you believe that, I’ve got some real estate in heaven I’ll share with you. Maybe when we get there, we’ll meet Cain and Abel, and all the other folks, Adam and Eve, Moses, Peter, Paul and Mary, your mother, your father, sisters and brothers, your ancestors, your children, grandchildren and your old friends. . . all the good folk who ever lived. . . maybe even Charles Darwin if he got his evolutionary ducks in a row without it damaging his Faith. My friend Ben just made his journey there about four months ago. I look forward to seeing him again.
King of Soul
Dronesy Starrish Night
Dronesy, dronesy lights
They glow in glorious starrish light
Streaking in their glorious dronesy might
With programmed flight in spring’s first celebration night.
The crowd is seated in the field below
seated in their readiness down low
as kids and cameras await the dronesy show
it’s not like any show that ole folks know
Now I understand what Vincent tried to show
because he never saw these drones that glow
Dronesy, starrish streaks; yes, we’re amazed
Flaming thrusts that brightly blaze
Swirling drones to brighten stadium haze
Reflecting glorious technologic glow
Putting on their perfect programmed show
Now I understand, what this world is coming to
what Vincent did foresee before this old world morphed to new
For there’s. no way he could have known
the starry show that droning glory’s honed
the buzzing glory of droning bees
flashed up in their technologic ease
You imagined it all as artists often do
long before these drones came into view.
Yours truly, poems of Rowland
Thursday, May 21, 2026
A Circle Unbroken
I’ll never forget, back in the day, when I was a student at LSU, a couple of friends, good ole boys from Slidell, Bruce and Bob, who turned me on to that historic record album, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” a collection of music and songs from our American heritage, performed and sung by the nitty gritty dirt band.
Their musical mission seemed to be to bring some classic American folk music back into the consciousness of our “turned on-tripped out” generation. The Nitty Gritty Dirt band guys were accompanied by some old-timers, including Mother Maybelle Carter and Doc Watson.
The most vivid audible memory of that album was the voice of Doc Watson, a blind master of guitar flat-pickin, accompanied by his son, Merle. Little did I know at that time that the providential leading of an Almighty Lord would establish my life’s most productive and most satisfying years in a mountainside homestead in the same county where Doc Watson had lived, Watauga County, North Carolina.
The county seat is Boone, where on the corner of King and Depot streets, you’ll see this parkbench with a bronze sculpture of Doc, accompanied, for a brief moment in time, by yours truly.
David Holt, an historian of American folk music, later conducted interviews, with video, of Doc in his home, near Deep Gap, where he and Rosalee had raised Merle. In those 1977 interviews, Doc would talk about their life in the Blue Ridge, their homestead and heritage. He would often mention his wife Rosalee.
Maybe you could say. . . the circle was not unbroken between my appreciation of Doc’s legacy and the fulfillment of my own destiny. Back in my day, before i had moved to Boone, the Lord had enabled me to record two record albums. Something for Everyone Songs of Rowland was recorded in Nashville, in 1977, thanks to Tom Behrens.
Later, in 1978, I recorded a Christian testimonial album, Revelation 5:9, in Asheville. Thanks to Eddie Swann and friends. I greatly appreciate the ensemble of musicians who helped me record those songs, old and new, on Revelation 5:9.
One of those friends was David Holt, who happened to be living across Garren Creek Road from me at that time. I greatly appreciate his old-style frailing banjo in that session, with a little help from me friends, an ensemble of local musicians, including Dan Lewis on harmonica, on that old hymn from Appalachian history, Life’s Railway to Heaven.
Life's Railway to Heaven
Years after that recording, after Pat and I had moved to Boone, I was singing some of those songs at the Watauga County fairgrounds, North Carolina state fair. Doc’s widow, Rosalee, was listening, seated in the audience. After my set, she spoke to me kindly, commending me on my songs. As I said earlier, I’ll never forget the sound of voice when I first heard him in 1972. And I’ll never forget Rosalee’s appreciation of my song, later.
As Bob Hope and Bing Crosby used to sing, long before I was born: “Thanks for the memories.” That will be my greeting to Doc, Rosalee and Merle, when I meet them in that heavenly circle in which will never be forever unbroken!
King of Soul
Tuesday, May 19, 2026
Cleaning the Mess
an excerpt from chapter 19 of Glass half-Full
Marcus opened a can of turpentine. He tipped it slightly so that its upper contents would spill onto a rag that lay on the parking lot next to his car. With the rag partially soaked, he began rubbing on the driver’s-side door. Someone had painted a black swastika on it while he was working late.
His cell phone rang. He opened it, looked at the mini-screen, saw “Grille,” which stoodfor Jesse James Gang Grille. In the last few days, however, whenever hewould see “Grille” displayed as the caller ID, it registered in his mind as “Girl,” meaning Bridget, because she would often call from there.
“Hi.”
“Marcus, have you heard about the explosion?”
“No, where?”
“At the Belmont Hotel, about 20 minutes ago. That’s where the FEF convention is.
“Aleph told me he would be going there tonight. Has anybody been down there to see what’s happening?”
“Kaneesha left here right after we heard it, but she hasn’t returned. I don’t think anybody’s getting in there for awhile. The police have got the whole block barricaded.”
“I want to find out if anything has happened to Aleph. Don’t you think he would have left there by now?”
“The TV News says the police aren’t letting anyone in or out except rescue workers.”
“I’m headed over there in a few minutes, as soon as I get the car-door cleaned up. Someone painted a swastika on it.”
Glass half-Full
Monday, May 18, 2026
Purloined Poetry
Once upon a time, I knew a fiddler up on a roof. . .
Under the canopy of memory. . .
I don’t remember growing older. When did they?
and a secret chord that David pleased that pleased the Lord
Though I have walked through the shadow of death, I did fear no evil.
for Jesus’ resurrection has reassured me. . .
So even though some things went wrong, I stand before the Lord of song, with mostly on my tongue: Alleluia!
On the other hand. . .
All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear and
disregards the rest. Let it be, let it be, the wistful words of wisdom… the several things that I’ve done all right and it’s singing songs
Ole man River; he don’t say nothing; he just keep rollin’ along.
He just keep rollin’. . . way back. . . way back.
through the Mississippi darkness, rolling down to the sea. . .
We came to Big Muddy and we forded that flood
on the Tennessee mare and the Tennessee stud.
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel. . .
looking out from that crummy hotel room in Washington square. . .
I could have told you, Vincent, this world was never meant for. . .
Where have all the flowers gone, anyway, long time passing?
Let the Life go by; I don’t care as long as I. . . can be on the street where we live.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now, and still somehow,
it’s life’s infusions I recall. . . at age 74. . .
I am I said and no one heard, not even the chair.
But hey! It’s all good, y’all. I’m here to tell ya. . . so Jah say
And even though some things went wrong, I stand before the Lord of so song with nothing on my tongue but Allelluia.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no
. . . .whatever happens.
Sunday, May 17, 2026
A Life Journey
From Roncevaux pass across the channel, around Brittania, up to isle of Mann, a strain of Euro mankind turned westward. A young man sailed for the new world, through the harbor where the tired, the weary and the huddled masses were yearning to be free.
Round and round, down and down, through mountains, southward,the people and the young man trod; they floated, by wagon and by train,through rain, down to the sunny South. At the father of American waters the Carey ancestors floated down the Euphrates of the new world, to Ur of those called to the delta, to the bayou, almost to great Gulf.
And there, Pilgrim was born, in Ur of the new world, the land of many waters, where he was raised in the Roman way of worship, with host and chalice, balanced out with a sprig or two of Baptist faith, lingering in the pages of time, and he grew up and he traipsed the halls of acadamia, searching for paradise lost, comprehending the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that flesh is heir to.
And after he had grown some, he took to himself an orange, and he noticed the veins in the leaf, and the light and the balance. Then he was in that stage of life when a man must discover his own path, and so he turned eastward, to the panhandle of health and wealth, the peninsula of sunshine.
He prospered; he figured out a thing or two, but after a season or three, he gravitated to the land of the high country, over themountain and through the Appalachian woods to the buncombe of liberated free youth, guided homeward by the face of an a an angel. . . drawing him to a destiny yet to be determined. . . he knew not what.
As Roland had sounded his horn at Ronceveau in ancient times the young man sounded his songs out upon the mountains of destiny, the turntables of time, contemplating the little big horn and the windows of the world, among other things.
It was all good; but trouble, tribulation and vows unvowed compelled him back westward . . . to the land of open spaces, to Waco, and no more whacko whipso strangeo. And so he had an encounter with the One who broke the seals of time and destiny, the ancient seals of creation, destruction and new creation.
Then later. . . after an unsettled runaround in the wild west, he returned to his adopted high country home, he met the woman of his destiny, and they settled into the good, prolific life on the old trail where Boone had found the way westward, back in the day, where spring’s new hope, born of leaves decaying, settles into the ancient Appalachian forests of time.
Glass half-Full
Saturday, May 16, 2026
Deep South 1964
from chapter 5 of King of Soul
But Liberty and Justice for All is not something that just happens. As compatriots with liberation and deliverance, liberty and justice emerge triumphant from the very embattlements of human history. Where their zealous advocates manage to grab some foothold in the landscape of human struggle, freedom is fleeting not far behind. Noble aspirations are all summoned up when the careless slayings of men demand value more sacred, more holy, than the mere clashing of weapons and the expiration of breathing bodies.
In our present exploration’s story, the bad news is: there is an inevitable outflow—the shedding of blood—which propels violence to ever higher levels of atrocity.
The good news is: where there’s shedding of blood, Soul is not far beneath.
In the summer of 1964, all of these elements of human struggle converged in an unprecedented way. Way down south, in the piney woods and sweltering fields of Mississippi, a new activist strain of blood-red camellia was taking root in that freshly-tilled civil rights black delta loam.
As God had heard the cry of Abel’s blood arising from Edenic soil, he heard now the beckoning of enshrouded laborers, those dead and these living. Their muted cries called forth liberation; they demanded deliverance.
So while black folk of the deep South were struggling to register their right to vote as Americans, a vast brigade of like-minded souls from other regions caught a whiff of their newly-planted liberty, and so the new brigades took it upon themselves to go down to Mississippi and lend a hand.
Go down, Moses, was the call. Go down, collective Moses. There were many who heard that call; there was even a man named Moses, Bob Moses from Harlem. He, and others who stood with him against discrimination, planted themselves in Mississippi at the crossroads of injustice and opportunity. Down here in the verdant lap of Dixie where the honeysuckles twine sweetly and the slaves had mourned bitterly, a battalion of wayfaring strangers from far and near came to cultivate the new growth offreedom.
They were filling a void in the whole of the human soul. Robbed of freedom, the Soul of Man wails out a distress call; then in regions afar, theSoul of Man hears, and resonates with action. Deep calls unto deep.
https://www.amazon.com/King-Soul-Louis-Carey-Rowland/dp/1545075115
Glass half-Full
Friday, May 15, 2026
London 1937
My novel, Smoke, published in 2011, begins a story set in 1937. The first scenes take place in London, May 12, Coronation day for King George VI, grandfather of the present King Charles.
For the love of a woman can change the course of the world. As Helen’s face had launched a thousand Greek ships, so the affections of an American divorcée had turned the tide of royal authority from one brother to another. From one duke to another. Made ostensibly of sterner, though stammering, stuff than his older liege, Albert--soon to be called George VI--would, in only a few short hours ascend those few hallowed steps in Westminster to sit upon the throne of Edward, James, Henry and all those other regents who had ever commanded the armies or fleets of British empire.
The people of England were expectant, exultant. No mean Mr. Mustard here. No, they were ready to receive a new king, now that the whole affair of Edward’s abdication had resolved itself into the ashtray of history. And all the more so, since the role of the regents was now largely ceremonial, having little effectual responsibility except to maintain that proverbial stiff upper lip with a vigilant eye upon the horizon where an eternal sun was perpetually setting, but never, of course, on the British Empire. God save the King, but it would be Mr. Baldwin, or Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. Churchill, orsome such privileged commoner who would ultimately compel English hearts and guts to bear sacrificial defence of their storied shores.
The story begins as the American businessman, Philip, accompanied by his friend, Nathan, a Londoner, are looking into a shop window, when suddenly an old man takes hold of Nathan’s arm and promptly collapses on the pavement, dead. Then the London bobby shows up. . .
The policeman asked Nathan if there was anything else he had noticed about the deceased. “He handed this to me,” said Nathan, “even as he was falling to the ground.” It was a folded white paper, with this handwritten message largely scrawled in black ink:
Wallris-- John Bull’s ransom will smoke out the black shirts tomorrow. If not, your bridge could burn. Chapman
.. . . while a crowd of people stood and stared. They’d seen his face
before. Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords.
https://www.amazon.com/Smoke-L-Carey-Rowland/dp/1495330834
Glass half-Full
Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Tree Fallen
Fallen tree down on the ground, did your demise send out a crashing sound?
I know the Lord who created you. I know the Lord who laid you in my view.
How many years did you stand, tall and strong, before it all went wrong?
How many seasons came and went before to forest floor you’re sent?
I wander slowly in these woods, shaded by all these leafy hoods.
Clear blue sky, in the heavens high, did you send wind to make trees fly?
Flying downward to the ground, did this tree make a crashing sound?
How many years did this stand tall, before the crashing, fatal fall?
Losing leaves, bleeding sap, this mighty tree laid down to take a nap.
Timber, timber, standing tall, did you cry out in God’s fateful call?
Oh mighty tree, oh mighty tree, methinks you’re a lot like me.
Someday I shall fall down like you, when I then join the heavenly crew.
Glass half-Full
Tuesday, May 12, 2026
Deep South 1964
an excerpt from King of Soul
But Liberty and Justice for All is not something that just happens. As compatriots with liberation and deliverance, liberty and justice emerge triumphant from the very embattlements of human history. Where their zealous advocates manage to grab some foothold in the landscape of human struggle, freedom is fleeting not far behind. Noble aspirations are all summoned up when the careless slayings of men demand value more sacred, more holy, than the mere clashing of weapons and the expiration ofbreathing bodies.
In our present exploration’s story, the bad news is: there is an inevitable outflow—the shedding of blood—which propels violence to ever higher levels of atrocity.
The good news is: where there’s shedding of blood, Soul is not far beneath.
In the summer of 1964, all of these elements of human struggle converged in an unprecedented way. Way down south, in the piney woods and sweltering fields of Mississippi, a new activist strain of blood-red camellia was taking root in that freshly-tilled civil rights black delta loam.
As God had heard the cry of Abel’s blood arising from Edenic soil, he heard now the beckoning of enshrouded laborers, those dead and these living. Their muted cries called forth liberation; they demanded deliverance.
So while black folk of the deep South were struggling to register their nright to vote as Americans, a vast brigade of like-minded souls from other nregions caught a whiff of their newly-planted liberty, and so the new brigades took it upon themselves to go down to Mississippi and lend a hand.
Go down, Moses, was the call. Go down, collective Moses.
King of Soul
Monday, May 11, 2026
When in the course of American events it becomes necessary for the people to dissolve the political bands which had previously connected them with insurrectionists magamaniacs, and to assume, among the powers and the rights afforded us in our Constitution, the separate and corrective station to which Nature and our Bill of Rights entitle us, a decent respect for the opinions of mankindrequires that we should declare the violations of our Rule of Law that impel us toto the corrective action.
We hold these principles, mentioned here, to be memorable in the minds of ourfellow-citizens, that we are all challenged by our Constitution and our judicial precedents to conduct ourselves in a manner that is law-abiding, peaceful and productive toward the general welfare of our citizens and our institutions.
The securing of our rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, requires us to institute governments, on the federal, state and local levels, deriving their powers from the consent of the people who str governing and being governed. And when any holder of public office becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to remove him, thus rebuilding a lawful foundation on Constitutional principles, and re-organizing powers that are appropriate for obtaining Safety and Security.
Prudence, indeed, will dictate that governments long established should not be changed with magamania intentions. Therefore. . . a long train of abuses and usurpations compels US the People to expel the chief offender for the sake of the preservation and continuance of our Democratic Republic.
To advance our grievances and our intent to remove the offender who now occupies the oval office, let the Facts be submitted to a candid world:
1. He has refused to govern by Rule of Law, choosing rather to rule by his social media posts and the blind obedience of his foxy-woxy sycophants, who appear to have no consciousness of Constitutional authority or Rule of Law.
2. He has recruited proud boys, oath-bleepers and three percent of the foxes who steal the vines of Law and order. . . to mount an insurrectionagainst our Congress, with the intent to obstruct their Constitutional duties and subvert the counting of Electoral ballots so that he might continue, illegally, to occupy the office of the presidency, January 6, 2021.
3. Having no summons from any state Governor, as is required by our Constitution, he has called out soldiers to attack, and even to kill citizens in three of our United States, because they were making lawful use of their Constitutional Rights of Freedom of Assembly and Freedom of Speech.
4. Having no declaration of war from Congress, as would have been required by our Constitution, he took it upon himself to kill and terrorize citizens of a foreign nation, imposing a murderous war on Iran, and thereby disrupting international trade routes, and igniting monetary inflation that imposes hardship on US the People of the United States, all because he wanted to start a war.
We therefore, the citizens of the United States of America call upon our Representatives and our Senators to remove the offending oval office occupant, so that we may continue in maintaining a government of the People, by the People and for the People, instead of being led by a self-obsessed powermonger who understands no principles of government of the people, by the people and for the people of these, our United States of America.
Glass half-Full
Thursday, May 7, 2026
North star for middle America, Chicago. . . the first time I visited there was on a road trip back in summer of ’71, between Ohio and Wisconsin, parking my old ’63 Olds Skylark in a parking lot at the Circle campus of University of Illinois. I had taken a break from selling dictionaries door to door, for the Southwestern Company of Nashville. down in Oak Hill, Ohio, for the Southwestern Company of Nashville. I parked the car and left it there for a few days so I could visit friends who were working in a summer ccamp in Wisconsin.
Metropolitan Chicago represents the great middle of our nation.
In my lifetime, I can remember the 1968 Democratic convention, where young people, college students from all over, gathered to protest against the draft, and against racial discrimination. The mayor of Chicago didn’t like what the protesters were doing.
But that was a long time ago. Today I’m in Evanston, just up the lakeshore from Chicago, traipsing on the campus of Northwestern University, founded in the early 1800’s, a fascinating place… founded as the first great university in the middle of our country.
Wandering around now on campus, I see there is no shortage of the liberal perspective in the middle of the country. Here’s a flyer I found on a bulletin board.
Now I’m no leftie. I am a Christian, centrist. I notice that my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, taught, in His sermon on the mount, that we should be peacemakers, we should feed people who are hungry, provide shelter for those who are homeless, and welcome strangers. And just now, I notice that our former president, Barack Obama, has made some comments that serve well to gravitate our attention back to that Christian message, and away from the magamania that has captured the oval office and its current occupant. Here’s a church sign in Chicago that gets it right, or left or whatever you call helping people instead of rejecting them.
King of Soul
Tuesday, May 5, 2026
Oh Canada!
Back in the day, Gordon sang. . .” So they looked to the future and what did they see? They saw an iron road running from the sea. . . up the St. Lawrence, all the way to Gasp’e, swinging our hammers and drawing our pay.
Look away, said they, all across this mighty land, from the eastern shore to the western strand” . . .
Along came Joni, singing . . .”On the back of a cartoon coaster, in a blue TV screen light, I drew a map of Canada. . . Oh, Canada!”
And Neil, 1970, singing about the trouble being generated across the border, in America, and on the side of the world, Vietnam, in the 1960’s. . . “Blue blue windows behind the stars, yellow moon on the rise. . . big birds flying across the skies, throwing shadows on our eyes.”
In 2026, donald trump has been trying to pull the wool over Mark Carney’s eyes, trying to cover the Canadian Prime Minister’s vision with maga madness, trying to pull his maralago tricks on the Canadian PM, as if he could fool a leader who had, as Mark Carney told the Europeans recently,
“ran the Bank of Canada during the financial crisis, and ran the bank of England during Brexit”
The present occupant of the oval was trying to throw his weight around to get Mark Carney to tow the line for trump’s bull***t hegemony.
But now the Canadian leader has forced into a captive position in which donald has received a message, something like. . . do not pass go; do not collect 200 dollars, American or otherwise. . .
Instead, Mark Carney went to the Europeans and explained.
“Canada did not impose the first tariff, the second tariff, the third, the fourth 5th, the sixth or seventh tariffs. Every single tariff in this confrontation was initiated by U.S. . . . . .Canada supplies to the US 60% of its crude oil, 98% of electricity on the borders, 73% potash for agricultural fertilizer, 87% of softwood lumber, 67% of our nickel for defense and 100% of the fresh water to the Great Lakes.
When a journalist asked, “Can Canada win this?”. . . speaking of trump’s bully tactics for controlling Canada, Mark Carney answered.
“We already have.”
As for the bully across the border, the king of maralago. . . this American writer says: Read ‘em and weep, donald! You’ve been outdrawn in the shootout at the Brussels corral. Do not pass Go; do not collect anything!
Paraphrasing Gordon Lightfoot’s song from back in the day. . . “So Mark looked to the future and what did he see? A Canadian nation, glorious and free!
Oh Canada, glorious and free! Glass half-Full
Monday, May 4, 2026
Murder Most Foul 1963
an excerpt from chapter 4, King of Soul.
Mississippi, 1963:
If ghosts could speak, they would probably confirm what Uncle Cannon
was saying. As he sat on the lowered gate of his black Ford pickup truck,
with one leg on the ground and the other swinging beneath the tailgate, the
old Mississippian spoke some of his thoughts about the state of affairs in the
state of Mississippi. His friend, Geehaw Kent stood listening.
“The murder of Medgar Evers was a tragedy: he was a young man,”
Cannon said. “He had slogged his way across Europe, along with thousands
of other Allied soldiers, to arrive triumphantly in Germany and then knock
the hell out of the Nazi war machine. So he contributed to that great
collective effort through which we won the big war. But then he came back
to Mississippi and was told—what the hell—to go to the back of the bus.”
“So, at the end of his homeward journey, Medgar entered, almost
involuntarily, into another great war, but it was a war of a different kind. It
was an old war that had been started by old men. That is to say: men who we
think of as old because they had lived and died in the prior era, and yet some
of them were still living—men who, in days past, had retained, even
cultivated, the prejudices and the limitations of their ancestors.
“Last year, only six months before Kennedy was killed, Medgar Evers
was shot dead in his own front yard in Jackson Mississippi. He had just
come from speaking to some brothers and sisters at New Jerusalem church.”
“Now, this summer, you know we had bunches of them starry-eyed
college students from up north come down here and try and help the Negras
get the vote. Over in Meridian, a few of them were trying to get the blacks
organized to boycott a store that wouldn’t hire some of them same blacks
who shopped there every day, every week, all year long for years and years.
Then about two months ago, three of them students disappeared. Kinda
mysterious, don’t you think?”
https://www.amazon.com/King-Soul-Louis-Carey-Rowland/dp/1545075115
Listen: Underground Railroad Rides Again
Sunday, May 3, 2026
Death in London 1937
The old fellow, quite dapper in a brown derby that shielded bright blue eyes over apale, fleshy face, double-chinned over a red bow-tie, seemed nevertheless to be slowly collapsing beneath the burden of his own weight.
He clutched Nathan’s arm. “Young man,” he insisted, though weakly, “Would you be so kind...” He was faltering. His cataracted blue eyes closed slowly, then managed, laboriously, to open again. He looked up at Nathan’s expectant face. “...currency stabilization...on the gold standard...perils...bloody monetary experiments...reverse...a calamity...Here, my boy, take this, please.” The old man proffered a small notebook, which Nathan, puzzled, and attempting to support the fellow’s faltering constitution, managed to accept with his left hand. Then the old fellow collapsed.
“Doctor! A doctor!” yelled Nathan, frantically. A thread of drool dripped from the old man’s open mouth as Nathan struggled to lay his limp body down gently on the sidewalk. At the nearby corner on Haymarket, the lights changed, and traffic commenced.
Nathan and Philip, speechless, knelt beside the stricken man, whose portly, suited body now lay motionless on the sidewalk. His eyes stared blankly upward into the morning mist. A crowd of people stood and stared.
Smoke
Saturday, May 2, 2026
First Ezekiel
Now it came about in the thirtieth year, on the fifth day of the fourth month, while I was by the river Chebar among the exiles, the heavens were opened and I saw visions of God. On the fifth of the month in the fifth year of King Jehoicachin’s exile, the word of the Lord came expressly to mEzekiel the priest, in the land of the Chaldeans by the river Chebar and there the hand of the LLord upon Ezekiel. As I looked, hehold, a storm wind was coming from the north, a great cloud with fire flashing forth continually and a bright light around it, and in the midst something like glowing metal in the midst of the fire. Within it there were figures reembling four living beings. And this was their appearanc: they had human form. Each of them had had human four faces and four wings. Their legs were straight and their feet were like a calf’s hoof, and they gleamed like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides were human hands. ATheir wings on four sides were human hands. Their wings touched one another; their faces did not turn when they moved; each went straight forward. Each had a face of a man; all four had the face of a lion on the right and the face of a bull on the left; and all four had the face of an eagle. Their wings were spread out above; each had two touching another being, and two covering their bodies. And each went straight forward; wherever the spirit was about to go, without turning as they went. In the midst of the living beings there was somethingthat looked like burning coals of fire, like torches darting back and forth among the living beings. The fire was bright and lightning was from the fire. And the living beings ran to and from like bolts of lightning. Now as I looked at the the living beings, behold, there was one wheel on the earth beside the living beings, for each of the four of them.
The appearance of the wheels and their workmanship was like sparkling beryl, and all four of them had the same form, their appearance and workmanship being as if one wheel were within another. Whenever they moved, they moved in any of their four directions without turning as they moved. Their rims were lofty and awesome, with all four having eyes round about.
Whenever they moved, the wheels moved with them. And whenever the living beings rose from the earth, the wheels rose also. Whenever the spirit was about to go, they would go in that direction. And the wheels rose close beside them; for the spirit of the living beings was in the wheels. Whenever those went, these; and whenever those rose from the earth, the wheels rose close beside them; for the spirit of the living beings was in the wheels.
Now over the heads of the living beings there was something like an expanse, like the awesome gleam of crystal, spread out over their heads. Under their expanse their wings were stretched out straight, one toward the other; each one also had two wings covering its body on the one side and on the other. I also heard the sound of their wings like the sound of abundant waters.
Smoke. .
Thursday, April 30, 2026
High Holy Place
Wednesday, April 29, 2026
To Be or Not To be
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in this nation to pardon the slings and arrows of outrageous insurrection?
Or to take action against a slew of magamaniacs, and by. opposing convict
them? To give in; to pretend that trump is noble, and pretend that he is of that same noble character that was demonstrated by the 44 presidents before him: ’tis a fantasy foolishly to be wished.
To concede; perchance to give in; aye, there’s the rub. For in that concession what further crimes will come.
This president’s wrong; such a destructive man, who fires bombs to send Iranian citizens to their eternal Shiite home, while requiring our patriots to go in harm’s way and elude their drones. . . and all this without a Congressional declaration of war, as if he were building trumptower casinos on the Jersey shore and bilking the contractors along the way.
We the People stand helplessly by, caught in the spell of magamania, while the little Fox steals the vines. We scroll idly by, whistling dixie in the dark, blatantly ignoring Amendment XIV, Section 3, which disqualifies the chief insurrectioneer from re-occupying our oval office.
When we will have shuffled off this oval occupant, we must appoint a new president, one whom we can respect, who makes not so much calamity; for we must not tolerate such slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes that are now being made, while requiring our boys to face the drones and moans of outrageous warfare, whilst our Constitution is ignored and our Rule of Law is quashed.
Glass half-Full
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
