Skookum, thanks for the thread and for sharing your poignant poems! Keep up the good work.

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Davey, what we lack in poetic expression we make up for in spirit. I look at political poetry like a fight, soften your opponent with jabs and hooks, when he blinks or grimaces throw the overhand right. If it connects and staggers him, quick, go to the body and finish him, you stop when he is on the mat. Keep them coming my friend, I love a good fight. Who knows, we might have a Marxist poet venture from his ivory tower at some cushy job at a University come challenge us on the bloody sands of the verse arena.

Doc M the old poems and stories are fascinating. Thanks for the update!

Fit fit, it was an experiment, not all my articles are published and as a former pro, I don’t expect them to all make the cut. I thought our readers needed a diversion from Fort Hood. There are many former military on these cyber pages who are outraged and doing their best to remain civil.

I try to write different material that is off the beaten path, that means experimentation and occasionally a slap in the face from one of my own. I am a big boy with many scars, I can take what life and readers have to pass out. This political writing is new to me and a real challenge; horses, fishing, and hunting are my usual subjects, subjects I know well.

I and many others have viewed Obama’s leadership as immature and incompetent; the nursery rhymes were a method of registering my contempt for the Obama administration. I expect Liberals and Progressive Marxists to be incensed and outraged at my humble criticism: otherwise, my material would be missing the mark.

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Thomas Horner, an ancestor of Helena Bonham-Carter, was steward to Richard Whiting, the last abbot of Glastonbury.

Abbot Whiting sent Horner to London with a huge Christmas pie for Henry VIII. The pie contained the deeds to a dozen manors hidden within it, as the Abbot was trying to bribe the King into not dissolving Glastonbury Abby.

Thomas ‘Jack’ Horner opened the pie and extracted the deeds of the Manor of Mells in Somerset, and so then became owner and set the family up for generations.

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You’re response was much better than the original post, but that Ayers bit is still a bit awkward and forced.

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There once was a man named Barry
Who fell in a fix that was hairy
the clue to the answer was nary
So he spred lies about all who were contrary

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Oh, my my Fit fit
are we in a snit
In self righteous indignation
you guard the Obamanation

With a sharp critic’s knife
you seek to butcher a poet’s life
While we seek honest diversion
from a mad killer’s perversion

We struggle to keep our seething rage intact
So little faith we have in Obama’s will to act
Oh Obama, so cool and full of indifference
the deaths of patriots and wounding so intense

Perhaps he should confer with the mastermind
who planned the Fort Dix massacre, friend Bill Ayers
It’s true incompetence killed his lover and his kind
bomb making is tedious, but the intention was there

A fundamental difference between Obama and me
Is placing political correctness over national security
For terrorists and mass murderers I have no empathy
No Weathermen write my prose or verse, nor share my tea

Skook

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Actually, I get edited all the time. I once got deleted for saying: “Thanks but no thanks to that bridge to nowhere”. That was the entire post. You guys can dish but you’re not so good at the taking.

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@Fit fit:

We allow your mind dribblings to appear here complete, unedited, and unfiltered whenever you decide to drop by.

What was your point again?

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This is really bad. You guys should have pretended to lose his post or something. It’s embarrasing to think this was written by an adult who thought it was witty enough to share with the world.

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