The Verses Versus Empire Collection: 2001-2021

By A LeRoy

A Dangerous Poet for Dangerous Times!

"In a dark time, the eye begins to see." So said the poet Roethke, and his words echo in this searing indictment of empire through the lens of poetry…

Through three imperial presidencies,
The poet cries, voice in the wilderness,
Reed swaying in the wind, a bruisèd reed,
His motion stirred to music.

Author, poet, and former Reuters journalist Abdiel LeRoy takes us into the inferno of U.S. politics with all its absurdities and horrors…

Daring to see and state the obvious,
Decry hypocrisy, prophetically to see
Not just the future but the now,
The awful now, and make some sense of it.

Created over 20 years, these three volumes overthrow the lies and blasphemies of three imperial presidencies under Bush, Obama, and Trump, as if the early prophets spoke through Shakespeare and echoed to humanity today. You will find no resort to outdated 'left-wing' or 'right-wing' proclamation here, no flag-waving for Democrat or Republican, but fierce denouncement for the peddlers of power, whether in Washington, London, Moscow, or Brasilia.

Yet LeRoy is not your typical fire-and-brimstone prophet. His moods range from witty satire to biting irony, from bawdy word-play to melancholic lament, even as he brings each White-House occupant before the throne of God, whether for mercy or judgment…

Rejoice! The day is come when every soul,
His placement for eternity to take
And due reward bestowed his earthly role,
Learns what pronouncement God for him shall make.
Now, having been called "Mr. President"
By doting throngs, Bush steps up to the fore,
For Heaven should follow earthly precedent
And saints, like press, should worship and adore…

But Heaven is about to divulge a litany "of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts"—to echo Shakespeare as this poet often does—fraudulent elections, false-flag terrorism, war, assassination, torture, racism, planetary rape, and the rulings of corrupt courts. Throughout, LeRoy serves as a chronicler of world history over two decades. Among the signature events…

1. Volume I—Bush (2001-2009)

9/11
'War on Terror'
Military Invasion
Desecration of the Constitution
Hurricane Katrina

Volume II—Obama (2008-2017)

Obama awarded the Nobel Prize… for Peace?!
BP's oil spill
Nuclear disaster at Fukushima
Edward Snowden, and the NSA
Julian Assange, and 'Collateral Murder'

Volume III—Trump (2016-2021)

Rule by tweet
Family separations
Threats of "fire and fury"
The emergence of Covid

Never was divine fire more poetically expressed. These three works establish LeRoy as "a brave new presence in the politics of the globe," according to The San Francisco Review of Books, and are a collector's item for the discerning library.

“So well done. A remarkable command of the language and great sensitivity. And doing all this in an entirely new way, wading into (almost) unexplored literary territory.”
Claude Forthomme

“Abdiel LeRoy’s poetry and prose offer intellectual nourishment for critical thinkers and seekers of truth… I highly recommend these books to anyone who seeks to escape from the ‘Matrix’.”
Annemarie M. Osborne

“If you wanted to extend the crit

• Language: English
• Publisher: Unparagoned
• Release date: Sep 27, 2021

Book preview

The Verses Versus Empire Collection

The Verses Versus Empire Collection

A Prophetic Lens on Three Imperial Presidencies

A. Le Roy

Unparagoned

Copyright 2000-2021  A. LeRoy

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License Notes

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Contents

Foreword

Introduction

Verses Versus Empire: I

2001

George W.'s Hoedown

The Undiscovered Country

The Watchman Calls

Dooh Nibor

Volte-Face

Shrubettes

Rude

Europud

Blowing Smoke

Olympus Shook

Doomsday

Aftermath

On Her Majesty's Secret Service

WayLayed

2002

Noddy's New Adventure

KenWrong

Advice to a U.S. Businessman

On Thin Ice

In Piety

Steeling

Blacking

Slugfest

MisGivings

In-Sinuations

Holy Smoke

Bush Fire

Bully

In Memoriam

Fare Well

The Shooting Gallery

2003

Backlash

The Bushattitudes

Among Friends

A Conversation Between Bush and God

Powell Play

A Lament

Gardez Loo!

Au Contraire

Interim Report

Reply to an Iraqi Taxi Driver

A Patriot's Prayer

Rumifications

Else Elsinore

B-Ware

A Prophecy of Shakespeare

Pax Americana

A Lullaby for Bush

Perp Talk

Synodomy

Beelzebush

Ode to the Alternative Media

Seeing Through a Glass Darkly

Diary of a U.S. Soldier

2004

DemoBrats

Faux Geste

Bleed

Broad-Cast

Haitred

Shortfall

Intercession

Exposed

Acronymony

Constance Defiled

Battle Hymn of the Republican

UnConventional

Wretch

Bang for Buck

Ode to the RNC

Zell's Hell

Dumber Cum Laude

Cross Purposes

Nave-ery

Born Again

T-Iran-ical

Gethsameagain

2005

Court Caught

Fraternize

Via Dolorosa

A Pall

Retrospective

Ode to Shakespeare's 'Titus Andronicus'

Gored

Afterthought

Intestimonial

The Potter Blotter

Bull

Noah Anew

Abushed

ChemiCall

Intraheinously

2006

AreYouIll, Sharon?

Courtroversy

Teed Off!

Mind the Bollocks!

Unpheasant

Eerily

Carackers!

Peacemeal

Bomb-Bay

Fine Gold

Deliverance

Green Zone

Selah

Cananical

Chávez

Amexico

A Pox o' Lips

Underthrow

Murdrimony

Half-Bakered

Pin-Head

Damn Sad

2007

Airport

Mal Olor

Whimper

Blare

Gone-zales?

Quel Damage!

Blare—II

Dieu Est Mon Droit

Nincompoop

Nerosis

Myth

Pardon?

2008

Bill of Blights

Obomination

Jeremiad

Down-Hill

Ill-literate

The Gospel According to St. Nuke

Sty Me

Bailful

Unforgivable

Obama, What Art Thou?

Obamoration

Bootiful

Verses Versus Empire: II

2009

Ghastly

Time Out

Ignobel

2010

Pill-fered

SpOiled

Pronoun Punditry

Visionary

2011

Shiitake

Binned Laden

Bishoprick

Furnace

2012

Class Warfare

No Right to Fire Arms

2013

Cardinal Sin

Dispatch Her

May-hem

2014

Demagogue

Olym-peeon

Fed Up!

Pharaohics

Daft Under

Xmassed

2015

Outfoxed

Je Suis Humanité!

Bliar

Neo-Auschwitz

Pleasantries

Unsound

Twelve Years a Tortured Detainee

Funeral of the Absurd

Herculean

Frack Off!

Lynched

Thrown!

Deep Fryed!

Ttip-off

XL

Get Carta

High-Minded

Retread

Dicing

Embassy

Sami

Dafter Under

Paedo Files

Grass Roots

Her Majesty's Banking Corporation

Son of Cain

The A to Z of Torture

Decimation

Buzz

Misery

Ah Kayla

Campaign

Regaled

Sanctimedious

Reactionary

Chapel Mosque

Godma

Hosen Crisis

Dafterer Under

Infierno Porteño

Misery—II

Sickago

Nuclear Bong

Bust

Dumb Founded

Too Soon

Redder Square

Insecure

Insecurer

Crumble

Stink

Iced

Flipped

Misery—III

Fishfood

Spat

Cottonmouth

Overview

Supreme Kafka

Goliathed

Van-guard

Oily

Dronewall

Refuse

Climax

Down-Hill—II

Breathless

Death Row

Splitting Image

Iranic

Disproportionate

Camerwrong

Doomed

An Awfully Orwellian Adventure

Black and Blue

Dark Night in Colorado

Penalty Shot

Veiled

Get Carta—II

Redwash

Banged Up

Dentonated

Cannibalized

2016

The UnDemocrat

Super Doomsday

Aipish

Pandemonic

Leaked Obama Apology for Hiroshima Stuns Pentagon

Endrossment

Dis-pair

Not Nice

No Rico

Triumpant

Clumped

Stand-Off

Agender

Trumplesome

Tumult

Hindsight

Dregs

Verses Versus Empire: III

2017

Size Matters, Mr. Trump !

Karmakaze

The Citizenship Candidate

The End of Time

Imp…

Downfall

The Whole Hog

The Impeachment Principle

Customs

Diverted

Faut Pas !

Con-Scripted

Diss-May !

Fine-toothed Comey

Yemented

Muddied

FourthRight

Mental

Take 20

Arid Zona

Base

Fired

Praising With Faint Condemn

Con-Session

Trumped Up !

The Death of Death

Joeke !

Doused

Dark Hour

Dank

Let's Invade Saudi Arabia !

Aung-uish

End (Miller) Times

Genuflections

Pobre Rico

Macabre !

Silencer

Bankorrupt

Franco-file

Brute Force

Billked

Buena Onda

Douggèd

Cream Pai

Lexiconned

2018

Go, Ahed !

Button up !

Trump's Dump

The Body Politicked

Gun Controlled

Supreme-acists

Reality Check

Rexation

Phony Terrorism Event Triggers World War III

Hapless

Brazen

Ghastly—II

Irany

Accuntable

Summize

Jeffing Hell !

Trump's Little Hostages

First-Class Flight

Fissile

Moscowspiracy

In Yer Facebook !

Tirant

Carackers—II

No Santo !

Reality Check—II

Dark Matter

Hadenough !

Hadenough !—II

Hadenough !—III

Murder Most Saud !

Murder Most Saud !—II

Trump Tribulations

Satanics

Backlass

Whit-less

Grave Error

Resounded

2019

Un Kinder

Diss-Cursive

Diss-Closure

Diss-Pence

'Til Death Do Us Part

Poll Axed

The Wiki Man

C’est La Guerre!

Murder Most Saud !—III

Raw

Pompastic

Sapped !

Parch-ment

Windbags

A.B.U.S.E.

Trump’s Little Captives

Challenge

Trump’s Little Victims

QuadWrangle

Tăoyàn !

Prosaic

A New Earth

Boorish

En Masse

Tarred

Greater!

Greatness

Disfavored

Baklash

Cop Out

Quid Pro Long

Brokered

2020

Ire

The Awakening

Implosion

Sin It

Appeal

Brexsick

Covidious

Covidious—II

Peaceful Reflections on a Pandemic

Peaceful Reflections on a Pandemic—II

A Virus Speaks

A Virus Speaks—II

Preoccupation

Pandemedia

Viperus

Pandemonic

FOiled

Bigle's Lament

Memorial Murder

Herald

On Awakening Empathy

Poetry. Prophecy. Protest. Prose.

Our Champion Pathogen

Karma-la

DNC… PDQ… AOC

Jacob’s Ladder

L-ish

On Virulent Government

Livid

Notoriety

Unquenchable

The End-Times Election

Dead Man Walking

The Blesscurse

Postcard to the Future

Overkill

Unbidden

The Princess President

An Intercessory Intervention

Vial

Audit

2021

A Vacuous Vaccine

2 Little 2 Late

ROut!

Biddable

Sin It—II

Conclusion?

Join the Author’s Readers List

From the Author

Obama's Dream (Sample)

Wings of Desire

Books by A. LeRoy

Epic Poems

Fiction

Poetry Collections

Non-Fiction

Notes

Foreword

John VanDyke Wilmerding

Great literature, especially poetry, can tell us who we are. The poet holds a mirror up to nature, reflecting back to us our deeper selves.

Let me commend to you an exemplar and gifted practitioner in this art. To read his verses is a richly rewarding encounter, even helping us to smile and laugh through the most painful developments in our recent history.

I first ran into Abdiel in the late 1990s when I served as Charter Secretary of the United Nations Working Party on Restorative Justice. I was struck and inspired by his encyclopedic knowledge of Shakespeare, but then came to value his deeper vision, both for myself and for my own audiences and correspondents. Over the years, he has honed his faculties as an artist to such a degree that I have taken to calling him ‘Bard’, conferring on him the title of Poet Laureate of the John Woolman College of Active Peace, an organization I helped found in 2004.

Abdiel’s Verses Versus Empire books are a treasured resource for historians and humanitarians alike, cutting through the veil of culturally conditioned perceptions, testifying to the follies and foibles of the human condition in general, and the political class in particular, and illuminating the ways of peace.

And so I present you with a poet for this tumultuous century, one who thinks and writes in the spirit of Shakespeare and the early prophets, one who has helped deepen our knowledge of ourselves in transformational ways, and whose creative spirit I have come to love.

John VanDyke Wilmerding

UN Working Party on Restorative Justice (1996-1997)

Founder, John Woolman College of Active Peace

Brattleboro, Vermont, USA

Introduction

Covid's appearance in 2020 ushered in a new era of transformation for the world and its peoples—transformation for the better. At the outset, fear was the dominant response, but as we have heard, love casts out fear, love is even stronger than death, and love regards this virus as our best hope to heal the planet, its peoples, and its species.

Covid's structure alone is reason to infer this. You've probably seen the magnified images, of a bright central sphere surrounded by dark goads. And the virus is certainly goading us now, but it is the bright halo structure behind those goads that sings of a higher—and I dare say, divine—purpose.

There is much more to this analysis, which you will find in the closing year of this 20-year collection, but suffice to say that the 'pandemic' has come to set us free from the structures of exploitation and enslavement—structures championed by both Democrat and Republican administrations in the United States—that have been oppressing planet and peoples and species.

It was George W. Bush's fraudulent installation in the White House by Supreme Court decree in 2001, that first prompted me to write political poetry. Then came '9/11', followed by the ludicrous fiction of a 'War on Terror', opportunistic assault on the U.S. Constitution, and pretexted invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. Meanwhile, Bush would invoke divine will as justification for his atrocities, and Love compelled me ¹ to dethrone his blasphemies!

Then came eight years of Obama, whose charm, honeyed words, and vague proclamations of 'change' glossed over his litany of imperial abuse: presiding over the longest war in which the U.S. had ever been involved; killing more people with drone strikes than any previous president; overseeing a record number of deportations; and prosecuting more whistleblowers than all previous presidents combined! By the end of his reign, as noted by The Intercept in an article of Dec. 6, 2016, Obama handed over to Trump bombing campaigns in seven countries, a legally unaccountable drone program, and an open prison at Guantanamo Bay. ²

And then came Trump, whose most useful achievement, other than being the only U.S. president ever to be impeached twice, was to strip away the righteous veneer of empire so skilfully applied by his polished predecessor in the service of global rape, genocide, torture, and resource theft. As Trump's term draws to a close, we can expect no better from Obama's former vice president, Joe Biden, nor Biden's cop-shielding running mate, Kamala Harris. Meanwhile, 'progressive' politicians who hope to push Biden are kidding themselves.

Against this background, I have hailed Covid 'Our Champion Pathogen', wielding a power to change the world that petitions, protests, and polls can only dream of—much as Moses wielded plague against Pharaoh in Egypt to effect abolition. Nor can the virus be tear-gassed, tortured, or tazed, physically or financially coerced, extradited, locked behind walls, or intimidated in any way. In short, it is our perfect activist.

My pieces herein exploring the prophetic import of Covid are largely in prose, and I have used prose for some short stories too, such as The Citizenship Candidate and The Awakening. But for the most part, this collection is in poetry. Why? Well, for one thing, it's what I do best. Also because, like the war for Troy imagined by Homer in The Iliad; the fall of Satan in Milton's Paradise Lost; or the founding of Rome in Virgil's The Aeneid, some themes are simply too majestic for prose. The same motivation has informed my own epic poems as well: Elijah, in which I retell the prophet's life and miracles; and Obama's Dream where, on the wings of angels, I take the former president on a night-time journey of revelation.

Recall, too, that in our foundation story, God said, Let there be Light! That is a line of poetry! And if poetry can create worlds and universes, then it can certainly change this world!

Poetry can also serve as a rallying call, as demonstrated in August 2017 when CNN's Jim Acosta quoted from The New Colossus—the sonnet inscribed on the Statue of Liberty—to challenge the Trump administration's decrees on immigration. I explore this idea further in my poems Base (August 2017) and Prosaic (Aug. 13, 2019).

Consider too, poetry's power to convey unpleasant truths—likened by the Italian poet Torquato Tasso to honey brushed on the rim of a cup that convinces a sick child to take his medicine! ³

Meanwhile, what has prose achieved of late in effecting politicsal change? Much as I admire the writings of fellow luminaries of political thought—such as Russell Brand, Noam Chomsky, Naomi Klein, or Arundhati Roy—their fine work has barely landed a scratch on the imperial beast who runs the show in Washington, D.C. and in capitals around the world. Prose can make its fine arguments to the mind, but the mind is not ready to receive them unless poetry has first lifted the veil and inclined the heart to fall in love with truth.

Beyond wishing to uplift and entertain, this collection serves as historical record of events and trends over 20 years, both in the U.S. and in other nations. To that end, I have supplied extensive footnotes with historical background. I don't claim to have covered everything, however, and encourage readers to search the online archives and transcripts of Democracy Now! for deeper investigation. This independent news site, and the analysis provided by its articulate and well-informed guests, is the raw material for most of the topics in this collection.

I hope these verses will create new connections between people, based on the celebration of poetry and art common to humanity, as opposed to meaningless identification with a particular country based on the geographical accident of having been born there! My own geographical accident was to be born in the U.S. to British parents, conferring on me dual nationality. I trust this background, along with years of living and working in both countries, will excuse the dual spellings herein. But perhaps my nativity in the English language as a whole, inheriting both the tradition of Shakespeare and the language of present-day empire, was no accident! Now is the time to attest that the pen really is mightier than the sword, and the poet's pen more than any other!

Abdiel LeRoy

Verses Versus Empire: I

The Bush Era

2001

George W.'s Hoedown

as he celebrates his ascendancy to the White House, Jan. 20, 2001

Listen on SoundCloud

Verse 1

---

Well I'm elected President,

     Oh isn't it a thrill?

I get to ride in limousines

     Though the seats are stained by Bill. ¹

I walk in Daddy's footsteps

     But he sits in the chair

While I play in the Oval crèche,

     I think that's very fair.

Verse 2

I have all my daddy's friends

     To tell me what to do.

They tell me when to blow my nose

     And when to take a poo.

They call me Mr. President,

     I have so many fans.

Oh I am so excited man,

     I almost wet my pants!

Verse 3

This is the American dream,

     My calling from the Lord

'Cept when they use them big words,

     It makes me really bored.

I prefer to take a ride

     Down to the Treasury,

So I can pay back all my friends

     (rall.) Who bought those votes for me!

The Undiscovered Country

letter to Governor of Oklahoma, Mar. 1, 2001

Robert Clayton stands accused

Of crimes he cannot defend

And for his transgressions the court decrees

His life must surely end.

---

They say this fellow has a low IQ,

They say he's none too bright,

But he knows the difference 'twixt life and death

And tells the day from night.

---

Now some may think it a blessing

To end a weary life

And some decide death for themselves

With pills or gas or knife.

---

But making that call for another

Is such a fearful thing,

To play both God and executioner,

The death knell's dirge to ring.

---

For God demands accounting

On final judgment day,

And for the hastening of that time,

Good souls devoutly pray.

---

So keep in mind eternity

When witnesses you spurn

To exile a soul to the other country

From whence no one return, ¹

---

When you overlook a suspect,

A lost confession invoke,

And then the allegèd murder weapon

With phony blood stains soak!

---

Who knows if his heels shall kick at Heaven ²

Or St. Peter welcome him in?

'Tis not our business to say who'll ascend

Or who'll go down in sin. ³

But have a mind for your own fate:

A sheep or fallen goat? ⁴

Your destiny may well depend

On what you did under oath!

Mar. 1, 2001

The Watchman Calls

Robert Clayton was put

to death today amid a flurry of last-minute appeals for clemency and despite an avalanche of calls and letters expressing concern about the legal standing of his conviction and the dubious origin of evidence used to convict him.

As he lay on the cross-shaped instrument of death, with arms spread wide to receive the lethal toxins, he seemed to be engaged in conversation, and though his words were unintelligible to the onlookers present, experts have since discerned the following dialogue from recordings made at the time:

Voice: I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me shall never die. ¹

Clayton: Remember me in Heaven.

Voice: I tell you the truth; this very day you shall see me in Paradise. ²

Some onlookers observed that the dying man appeared to smile.

Other parties, however, are strongly disputing this version of events, among them the highly prominent organization, Order of Cain. We applaud the State of Oklahoma for its courageous act, said a spokesman, who took a few minutes out from raucous celebrations at the group's headquarters last night to answer questions.

The closely related religious group, Fiends of Tartarus, though less inclined to dispute the reported death-bed conversation of Clayton, are quick to praise those who were instrumental in bringing the execution about. We're very proud of these guys, said Moloch, one of the leading lights of this movement. We're pretty keen to get them here as quickly as possible so we can thank them personally.

Another source, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said that in the meantime, certain of the Tartarus contingent had already been dispatched to each person involved in the execution, to accompany them in their travels, to whisper advice throughout the day, and to fill their dreams at night.

Among the several arguments proffered by Fiends is that Clayton was a man of dim wit and inarticulate speech, and therefore of little use to men.

But these claims are met with strong rebuke by the up-wing Assembly of Servants. God chose the foolish things of this world to shame the wise, ³ said spokesman Raphael, adding that the assembly has authenticated the veracity of Clayton's dying conversation. The blood of the innocent cries out to Heaven. And I cannot bring myself to say of the people involved, 'Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.' They knew exactly what they were doing!

Today, Clayton was greeted in Heaven amid the sound of trumpets in a great ceremony attended by saints and angels. Though reporters were not privy to the celebrations, several attendees reported that he was presented with the Martyr's Crown, one of the highest honors ever bestowed.

Robert's treasure is stored in Heaven, said Assembly press agent Abdiel, ⁴ and the hand of man shall never harm him again.

Doubtless the controversy will continue unless, as Clayton himself petitioned (in what his close friend, Mark William Olson, termed one of the accused's enduring prayers), evidence is some day uncovered to prove his innocence.

Today, the Council of Heaven issued a press release stating that the day of the Lord's return had been brought forward in response to our brother's treatment… Robert wept for blood he had not spilt and paid with his own blood. Let not mortals think that Heaven will stand idly by and let men commit such atrocities with impunity, it said.

Mar. 1, 2001

Dooh Nibor

on Senate approval of bankruptcy legislation, Mar. 15, 2001

Dooh Nibor ¹ set off one night

In his pinstriped suit of blue,

Sailed into Congress on lobbyist's flight

With his colleagues the favored few.

O where are you going and what do you wish?

The President asked with glee.

"I have come for the souls of men to fish

In glorious killing spree.

I have new laws of bankruptcy!"

Said dapper Dooh Nibor.

---

The president laughed and sang a song

As he imbibed the banker's brew,

And the fortune that sped him all night long

Continued to accrue.

Nibor could catch little souls like fish

In debtor's captivity.

"Now cast your debts wherever you wish,

You'll have your banker's fee."

So cried the Chief of Mendacity

To dashing Dooh Nibor.

---

The credit unions having failed to kill,

Nibor turned his spite to the poor,

And bound Chapter Seven as he lay sleeping still

In the arms of congressional whore. ²

With impunity now could he put out his eyes

And haunt the forest and wood,

And though he is deaf to the orphan's cries,

He'll tell you that he is no hood,

But read his name in reverse if you would

Of duping Dooh Nibor.

---

All night long Dooh's debts he threw

On the souls in each stricken home,

Then up from the depths came with devilish crew ³

Drafting a legal tome.

The blood of souls to Heaven redeemed

Cried out, this cannot be!

And some folks thought 'twas a nightmare they'd dreamed

Of crushing penury, ⁴

But I shall name you that dean of decree,

Disingenuous Dooh Nibor.

---

The president has two beady eyes

Both set in a dumb little head,

And Dooh Nibor who tells bankers' lies

Likes to share his trundle-bed.

So shut your eyes if poverty stings,

Go down on bended knee,

And you shall see such hideous things

As angels weep to see,

For the president embraced the robbery

Of devious Dooh Nibor.

Mar. 15, 2001

Volte-Face

on Senator James M. Jeffords' announcement he is leaving the Republican Party, May 24, 2001

Before embarking on his one-man spree

To rob the nations of their pastures green,

The Chief had pledged bipartisan to be,

But now digests the venom of his spleen. ¹

---

For one good senator's courageous bid

To stand for conscience, though it may cost him,

The G.O.P.'s majority undid,

So Bush's prospects are diminishing.

---

In zeal to quash all moderate dissent,

The White House once resolved to silence him

By meting out censure and punishment,

But now is stung by giant-killing Jim!

May 2001

Shrubettes

on an incident involving George W. Bush's daughters in Austin, Texas

Jenna Bush is hitting the sauce again

And making the front page.

We read all about it in the Daily News

Of her drinking underage.

---

This daughter who loves a tipple

Once sent the Feds to fetch

Her drunken friend from jail one night,

Poor alcoholic wretch.

---

This time her sister was with her

As she plied her feminine wiles

To coax a margarita or two

With cutesiness and smiles.

---

From the school of Austin to Yale in the north,

In binges, parties, and sprees,

The naughty lasses gaily indulge

Their Aryan disease.

---

Like many girls at this tender age,

The Shrubettes just love to rock,

And in this aspect each of them is

A chip off the old block.

---

For Barbara is no angel,

She even takes the lead,

And this older twin, her sister's keeper,

Is partial to her speed. ¹

---

This seems to bear out the adage

As in the Bible's decree,

That the sins of the father are visited

On the children, as we see.

---

The pair of Bushes are anointed

The family curse to pay:

Debasement of the watering hole,

The all-American way.

Now Bush is our nation's father,

A thought from which to shrink,

But to have him as your daddy at home

Must drive a girl to drink!

May 2001

Rude

Sonnet on infidelity of New York City Mayor, Rudy Giuliani

A wound far worse than living death is bled

Seeing a loved one break a solemn pledge.

To take another to the marriage bed ¹

Is through a faithful heart to drive a wedge.

The outcome of annulment or divorce

Just formalizes death died long before,

For infidelity is what enforce

A murder by adulterer or whore.

But when the cheated spouse must daily see

The dalliance that's flaunted to her eyes

And loses office and security,

She's killed anew in gubernatorial guise.

So Mr. Mayor, mitigate the hurt,

And find an alley for your bit of skirt!

May 2001

Europud

on George W. Bush's tour of Europe and mooning by Swedish protesters

Bush proudly waves the U.S. flag abroad

and in Texan tradition, he's shooting first

then asking questions. So amid discord,

the nations are in missile-talk immersed:

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hoping that Bush's yen for toxic gas

stops short of mushroom clouds. Even the Swedes

break out to openly revolt en masse,

while France and Germany decry his deeds.

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Vikings have ceased former rampaging ways,

but as our leader's reputation reeks,

they re-enact the rites of ancient days,

burning the U.S. flag with barefaced cheek.

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Bush calls all this new receptivity

and samples Belgian chocolate in their land,

but like a Hershey next to Cadbury,

he's selling Europe a substandard brand.

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With Wim, ¹ Romano, ² Vaclav, ³ and Goeran, ⁴

there George is rubbing shoulders gleefully.

In type of the ugly American,

he hawks his new kind of diplomacy:

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that when you are a byword to the nations,

your reputation stained, under a cloud,

don't bother to repair global relations;

just speak your gibberish, only more loud!

June 2001

Blowing Smoke

on Attorney General John Ashcroft's settlement of U.S. Justice Department lawsuit against tobacco industry

Old Yella with his nicotine-stained hands

must feel entitled to make strong demands

to get the legal system off his back

and keep ill-gotten profit in the black,

his campaign funding a small price to pay

to sweep this multi-billion suit away.

Ashen John Ashcroft, to appease and please,

capitulating rather than reprise

the salutary thrust of Clinton's suit,

would have tobacco giants keep their loot,

So as Attorney General starves for cash

the former cause, and by pronouncement rash

proposes settlement on easy terms,

inflames addiction to America's burns.

Thus has the Bush regime its reign begun

with scant regard for the American lung,

and we are left to beg the vexing question,

unanswered since an infamous election:

when righteous causes seem to come unstuck,

what deals in smoke-filled rooms are being struck?

June 20, 2001

Olympus Shook

on terrorism in New York City, Sept. 11, 2001

Even at Noon, dishonored Dian kept

Her crescent vigil ¹ in the stricken air.

Bravely the goddess sailed, though she wept:

Bright pearl defiled by terrorism's tear.

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Still poured the smoke and blotted out the sun

As Pandemonium relished the rape:

A maid besmirched, her trauma just begun,

And at nightfall the stars on horror gape.

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Even Mars blushes, champion of War —

His fiery countenance to Earth expressed

By red reflection in the dire downpour —

To see his rules so flouted and transgressed.

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End-times upon us, the Apocalypse

Unfolds, when day to dusky sackcloth turns, ²

The Brooklyn skyline shadowed in eclipse,

While smeared with soot, downtown Manhattan burns.

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But Dian is a huntress, arrow-armed,

And swift as lightning has her dart dispatched,

Avenging innocent Humanity harmed

On demons that Inferno's horrors hatched.

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This day forever lives in infamy:

September the 11th, Two Thousand One,

A worse deed yet of foul atrocity

Than that vile act of 1941.

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Today these other kamikazes lunged

Into America's heart, the bloody gash

Of which still flows where souls in anguish plunged

From towering windows and the choking ash.

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But terror-makers everywhere shall learn,

As did the rebels by the Lord beset,

That fires of righteous fury fiercely burn,

And Goodness is more terrifying yet! ³

Sept. 11, 2001

Doomsday

on the aftermath of '9/11' in New York City

Why shines the sun so brightly

On our city in rubble heaped?

Why play cool breezes softly

On our ashes in blood-stain steeped?

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Why were the angels silent

When this plot was being hatched?

Why did they take no action

'Til souls to Heaven dispatched?

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Why have no words been invented

To describe what here befell?

We had not witnessed until this day

Such nearness to Hell.

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A city's become a death-ditch

Worse than Dante ever conceived.

Through plastered soot, the tears are streaming

From kin and kind bereaved.

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We print our loved-ones' pictures

Hoping against hope they live.

We throng to puncture our veins and bleed,

Like sacrifice to give.

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The terms atrocity, catastrophe

Scarce start our shock to tell.

Vainly descriptions are bandied about

Amid the infernal smell.

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The principalities of the Underworld

Throng all to Acheron's shore.

Cheering the mastermind of mayhem,

Hell's host is heard to roar.

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But brief is Hades jubilant

That our ruins smolder and burn.

This villainy serves but to hasten

The Day of our Lord's return!

September 2001

Aftermath

post '9/11'

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Alas! Three weeks have passed, none else alive.

The air is stained yet with the stench of death.

The subterranean fires still feast and thrive

To mingle with the living remnant's breath.

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Twelve fathom deep, into a stinking hole

Men swim through filth, one beating heart to find,

And in reflection of the Shepherd's role, ¹

Would not leave any of the flock behind.

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For a short while, a gothic site was kept:

The vestige of man's power stood as an altar ²

Where rescuers into the fire had leapt

To spare their kin. Their courage did not falter.

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Now flint-faced firemen their tears have shed

Upon the rubble shrine, and workers toil

To close the maw of Hell that glutton fed

On human flesh, and cleanse the sullied soil.

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We face the fathomless iniquity ³

Wordsworth foresaw in augury's remark:

Cloaked in the nature of Infinity,

Suffering is permanent, obscure, and dark. ⁴

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How did they dare? How did they dare to maim

God's image in mankind and so conspire?

How did they dare, in blaspheming the name

Of God, tear down the multilingual spire? ⁵

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We genteel citizens in Union Square

Discuss the crisis and propound our hunch

How terrorists are ousted from their lair,

While ashes tumble on our peace-time brunch.

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And I, observing from a far-off screen,

The spoils of spectacle may idly reap,

Look in the mirror, contemplate and preen,

Retire to bed and hold my manhood cheap. ⁶

October 2001

On Her Majesty's Secret Service

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Miss Moneypenny! Radiant as ever!

Says Bond with his characteristic charm.

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You'd best get in there, James! "Why Moneypenny,

You must have read my mind! O get in there!"

In mock exasperation she replies.

"M's in a real state, been on the phone

All day with the Prime Minister he has!"

---

Door opens. Bond. Her Majesty's agent,

Licenced to kill, enters the room. "Ah Bond!

Come in! Matter of greatest urgency.

Bin Laden, hiding in Afghanistan.

A vicious fellow, devilish piece of work.

Blows up civilians, hijacks planes, kills children.

Works with the Taliban, a nasty lot.

I haven't seen the like of them since SPECTRE. ¹

The CIA's been after him for years.

To no avail of course. It's up to you!

Your job is to destroy him at all costs.

He's bad news, Bond. And you're the best we've got.

Now get along to Q and get your gadgets."

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Deep in the secret testing area,

Bond enters. Morning Q, where are my gadgets?

"Oh grow up, 007! 'Devices!'

That's what we call them nowadays — 'Devices!'

The usual tricks: a missile-guiding watch,