Escalating Peaceful Protests

There’s rioting in Spain, and some arrests.
They’re worried for the markets, for the friends
Who, marching, fell to bullets, and amends
Are threatened to police. But Al suggests
Coordinated efforts to abstain
From buying anything, and sitting down,
And donning disobedience, a crown
Upon the head of any who, in pain,
Have sought a better system. I don’t know
If there is any certain legal ground
For making an arrest. But if, in hound-/ing
All authority to deal a blow
To righting an injustice, you are seen
As dangerous, then fighting’s getting mean.

Rubio, Treyvon, Brits, et. al.

Summary: people are insane.

I crammed for a test last night, and decided to skip sonnet-writing in favor of an additional 15 minutes of reading. Too much has happened.

In a nutshell, it's almost impossible for people to avoid playing either vigilante - whether chasing someone down who looks suspicious, or by organizing anonymous mobs to bring in a suspect - and equally impossible to avoid making specious judgments.

The poem-and-a-half below reflects (albeit in an incredibly exhausted state) my slow emotional evolution from One Angry at British Parents to One Angry at the President, each state ultimately reflective of the fact - and no more than just this fact - that emotional situations require a very, very delicate touch.

There's no reason the POTUS would comment on a case of law-enforcement, particularly one where the killer has been caught. The Martin/Zimmerman case was an oddity, only because Zimmerman had not been arrested, nor was there an ongoing case except that pushed by the parents and reluctantly accepted later by remaining law enforcement. And while Conservative Media usually deplored Obama's remarking on the case, it was quick to imply condemnation that he had not done it a second time. Granted, they'd say they were merely highlighting his hypocrisy, and yet if the goal is to have no extraneous comments whatsoever, demanding consistency in doing a wrong thing doesn't speak well for the demanders.

In short, we far too easily use controversial topics to highlight our opponents' failures, even if it highlights or causes our own.

I changed my mind after the poem was written. Granted, there's no reason the POTUS would comment on a case of law-enforcement, particularly one where the killer has been caught. But by the same token, there's no reason he wouldn't do so, either. Especially if he were asked.

And now, the poem 1/2:

So Rubio is backing Mitt, and that
Is all there is to yesterday. The rest
Is something hideous, a final test.
The nation’s sanity is up to bat,
And, Casey-like, is holding very still.
I know that Mr. Zimmerman was wrong
To play at cops and robbers, but the throng
Demanding any able to his kill
Is also playing vigilante. This,
However, is the last insipid straw –
Demanding that Obama show his face
And comment on a tragedy, and race,
As if his word is better than the law
That put away the killer. Such a thing
Is more and better suited for a king.

I thought about it more; I wasn’t right.
Forget the press, the media, and Matt –
The parents wrote the president, and that
Is reason quite enough to set alight
The doubt of any sympathy. Alas,
A silence will as surely come to pass
Upon your reputation as it does
Upon a kind reply that never was.

Individual Mandate vs. Martin/Zimmerman

The Supreme Court debate on universal health care is occasionally overshadowed by the Martin/Zimmerman case.


The court’s debating commerce, but the news
Is taken still by hoodies. It is odd
That we can give a showman such a nod
While several Justices debate the views
Of law and constitution. I suppose,
If I had found a bigger story, I
Would wonder how the headlines did belie
The greater tale and danger that arose
From this imagined story, when instead
They focused on Obamacare. Believe
That for the people who would daily grieve
Our racial inequality, the head
Of all important matters is the case
Where process isn’t due because of race.

Merah vs. Al-Jazeera

Al-Jazeera has declined to air the video of Mohammed Merah's final victims.

Bravo to that.

Mohammed made a video in vain.
The station Al-Jazeera has agreed
To keep it under wraps, that any heeding
Bloody calls to murder mightn’t gain
A bloody inspiration from his tale.
(Recall that Merah had, a while back,
A nasty love for watching the attack
Of infidels online.) I can’t assail
The journalists’ decision; I applaud
The ethics of a man who, given choice
To grant a murderer a final voice
Containing not a message, but a nod
To all his vanity, will then refuse
To grant his ghost the martyrdom he’d choose.

We Are the 74%

Santorum needs 3/4 of all remaining delegates to secure the nomination.

Santorum’s racing may be at an end,
And very much a bitter one. Alas,
To win is to be able to amass
Three-fourths of those who’ve yet to recommend
Their ballot to a candidate. He won’t
Give in or up. And though I know he may
Declare aloud what many’d rather say
Alone, or not at all, and though I don’t
Deny the man his courage, this I know:
A bravery without a firm belief
In any nation’s failings is a chief
And fatal repetition of the blow
That steered us to a tempest, and a squall.
And this is why I fear him most of all.

Dick Has a Heart

Dick Cheney’s got a heart, and it is new,
Or new enough for someone very old.
The puns are easy – “Cheney’s heart is cold,
And thus it didn’t work;” or “when he’s through,
He’ll eat the other heart,” and so it goes.
I must confess I’ve never been a fan.
I still admire any woman, man,
Or child who, when death is certain, chose
To give away the organ giving life.
So Cheney, fare thee well, though I confess
I wish you hadn’t given us the mess
Of bases in the Gulf, Iraqi strife,
Or Noriega, Libby, or the rest,
Whene’er you put your power to the test.

On Treyvon

Everyone and their mother are weighing in on the Martin/Zimmerman case.

Forget for a moment all questions of race - were someone tailing me in the dead of night, I'd run, too.  And if the tail continued, I'd turn and attack.

An innocent was shot. I didn’t know
Exactly what had happened, the details,
Or how the watchman, running off the rails,
Could kill a man who’d given him a blow
For giving him a chase. I read a bit.
Assuming there is nothing left to read,
The evidence is damning, and the seed
Of anger has a passage yet unwrit-/ten.
All the commentary here
Is focused on the color of the skin.
I feel the greater relevance is in
The fact that giving chase is giving fear.
If one who’s not a cop is chasing you,
You’d doubtless run, or would attack him, too.

Everyone's Awful But Me

Santorum sees the world in black and white –
Apologies to all, for though it sounds
Like I refer to race, upon the grounds
That both Barack and Rick are, in a fight,
Too easily mistaken for the phrase
Meant here as an expression; he is wrong.
The world is rarely simple, and the strong
Are often quite familiar with the ways
Of compromise, or seeing eye-to-eye.
And even though I recognize the good
In standing firm against a one that would,
In increments, destroy the nation, I
See in your words no logic, nor a gain;
And mass hyperbole is just insane.

Mohammed's Killing Children in Toulouse

Mohammed’s killing children in Toulouse.
I guarantee a millstone is beside
A rope, his neck, and thrown beneath the tide,
If any god exists. The victims, Jews
And soldiers – Monsonegro, Sandler (three
In all), Chennouf and Zaiten – are asleep,
If death is but a passing on, a leap
Into a future paradise. But we
Too much too easily, to give us peace,
Declare a death a rest; I guarantee
The final hour each would ever see
Was hardly any gift, or a release
Of burdens. Know that death, not life, is cheap,
When evil waits for innocence to sleep.

Romney Makes Some Illinoise

Mitt Romney won another one, to beat
An earthquake, Tebow/Manning, and Toulouse.
The race, apparently, is bigger news.
And if or when he suffers a defeat,
He’ll doubtless occupy a final time
The headlines for a day, and disappear.
Priorities are plain and very clear
For we the people, working for to prime
Our country, and economy, and wealth
With leadership a head above the rest.
And this is why the headlines think it best
To focus on the race, and on the health
Of all our future nation; they are right
(Unless, of course, we just enjoy a fight).

Gas is Expensive. Damn.

See title.

So, oil is expensive. And the fault
For all of it is on Obama, or
The market, or the Saudis, or the war,
Depending on the speaker. The assault
Upon the meager monetary means
To pay for gasoline is useful, though,
For politicians giving it a go,
Who blame it on incumbency, or liens
Upon Alaska’s wilderness. The truth
Is like it always is: a bit of each.
The truth is complicated, and the breach
Of fact in any summary, forsooth,
Is where we place the blame on one alone.
(At least it’s not as high here as in Rome.)

Mejor Que No Lo Hagas Eso

Romney wins Puerto Rico, with Santorum a distant, distant second, perhaps as a result of his suggestion that Puerto Rico make English their official language before they're admitted to statehood.


A man from Massachusetts won a place
Whose residents are not, as yet, allowed
To vote him into office. But the crowd
Who chose the delegates to choose the race
Is all for Mitt. Santorum was behind
By 90,000 ballots, for the point
He put upon them put them out of joint –
“speak English, sirs, and enter.” How unkind
The numbers often are when one is firm
And final in conviction that is wrong.
And Mitt, though he may only play along
With popular opinion for a term,
Was wise enough to skip the ugly fight
That may define the enemy as White.

Matt Drudge vs. OWS

Occupy Wall Street celebrated its 6-month anniversary by attempting and failing to set up a new camp in Zuccotti Park, and by several dozen arrests.

The headline gives appearance of a war.
The story’s more benign. Zuccotti Park
Was victim to a sit-in; the remark
About a spring offensive wasn’t more
Than any bland encouragement to all
Who loyally remain without a voice,
Or council, or a creed, or, yet, a choice
In leadership. So will it yet befall
The movement, to disintegrate without
A leader and a goal. But on the Right,
We plaster up a headline of the might
Of all the evil here in the devout
And loyal soldiers of Zuccotti Park.
How odd that none remained there after dark.

Robert vs. Rick, II

For a brief moment, the nation was worried about what the war was doing to Afghan civilians and American soldiers. Then we returned the focus to Rick.

Santorum’s front and center once again.
We’ve ended the debate on Robert Bales,
On whether the heroics in the tales
Of honor, and the saving of the men
Reflect his inner nature – or, perhaps,
He simply wasn’t sane; I do not know.
The question is itself a bitter blow,
And keeping the conclusion under wraps
Requires one to be a little blind
To either his heroics or his shame.
But it’s a false dichotomy; for blame
And praise can co-exist in ill-defined
And murky interactions; there is none
A hero or a villain, but in one.

(Now back to Rick before the tale is done.)

Shirtless Rick vs. Robert Bales

More details emerge about the Afghan massacre. But in more important news, Rick Santorum is sunbathing.

Santorum’s front and center, and the war
Is lingering behind him. If, indeed,
A picture is a commentary, we’d
Be better off the way we were before,
Debating on the merits of the fight
Before we leapt into it. It is done
If we are worried more about the sun,
The delegate on whom it may alight,
And whether they’re attractive. And the war
Continues, and the enemy’s alive
And kicking, and the fight is to survive –
Forget the victory, or keeping score.
Pity the nation thinking on a tan
While losing minds within Afghanistan.

George Clooney vs. Tim Tebow

George Clooney was arrested for protesting outside Sudan's embassy in Washington, DC, as part of his Satellite Sentinel Project.
Be thankful it wasn't Gibson.

I saw the man in cuffs, and was prepared
To hear a diatribe against the Jews,
And blame upon the alcohol, the views
Of all arrested actors having fared
As well as any movie, or arrest.
Instead, I heard the one arrested speak
Of fearing for his father, and of seeking
Pity and forgiveness. I’ll attest
To laughing at the escapades of all
Who find themselves in handcuffs, unafraid
To tell the world the theories they have made
While festering in hatred, but a pall
Is cast upon the entertaining hue
When it befalls the one whose heart is true.

And We Won't Come Back 'Till It's Over Over There

The US may soon go the way of Russia, Britain, Persia, the Mongols, and Alexander the Great.
For whatever it is worth, if we do leave, we have the one consolation of being the only country asked to leave, and not forced out in a river of blood.

Afghanistan is asking us to go.
It’s better, I suppose, than, in a fray,
If they had asked us, suffering, to stay,
Revealing weakness, and impending woe.
We’d leave it easier than all before
Had left the country – Russia; or the Brits,
With Elphinstone retreating to the pits
That soon would be his grave; and many more –
The Persians, or the Mongols, or the Greeks.
The nation strips invaders of resolve,
And, forcing all their honor to devolve
To fighting for survival, then it seeks
To turn to be the way it was before.
I hope we don’t leave blood upon the door.
(A curse upon the Taliban, and war.)

With Your Sheild or On It

Marines were asked to disarm ere hearing Leon Panetta's speech at Camp Leatherneck in Afghanistan. Which, for whatever reason it was done, probably did not inspire confidence.


I’m pointing out the obvious, but still
It’s necessary. Leon, please observe:
No one will follow someone who unnervingly
Reveals a less-than-iron will,
Or once appears a coward. All the men
Have taken quite a gamble going out
And fighting for a Talibani rout.
The soldiering is dangerous, but when
They’re sitting in a room to hear a speech,
I’m betting they’ve a calm they’d rather keep
When they are on patrol and nearing sleep.
But if the calm is treated as a breach
Of safety for a man who’s rarely there,
I think they’d all at once refuse to care.

So, Mitt is Splitting Delegates With Rick

So, Mitt is splitting delegates with Rick.
The latter, to conservative applause,
Is rallying the faithful to the cause,
And praying his momentum isn't stricken
With a secondary branding. It
Is foolish, in a race, to be the man
Too prematurely thought an also-ran.
And Rick is splitting delegates with Mitt.
And Rick and Mitt are neck and neck, alas.
The Vegas odds are even, and the vote
Is shaping for a finish that's of note.
The end and the beginning, come to pass,
Are over when they're nearly at the door.
I feel that I have writ this poem before.

If Only for Oscar Sanchez

Obama is burned in effigy as angry Afghan mobs promise vengeance for the slaughter of innocents at the hands of a US soldier.


The Russians were surprised when they were shot.
Regarding US forces, I have read
About the many heroes, and the dead
And wounded, and the battles they had fought
To harbor all the innocent away.
I wonder if the stories I recall
Are common here alone, and if at all
Afghanistan remembers that our fray
Had driven off the bad militiamen.
I fear the Russians knew the good alone
That all their army did, were never shown
The way the Afghans saw them – cowards, when
The mines would Russian slaughter carry on.
I hope we leave them better ere we’re gone.

Meir Dagan vs. Netanyahu

It's good to know the views of Meir Dagan are receiving more national attention.:

The last line is a bit tongue-in-cheek.

I’m betting Netanyahu’s really mad.
It’s never wise for any to assume
A government’s united, or a looming
Foe; the opposition isn’t clad
In uniform aggression any more
Than we are all united (on Iran,
Santorum sits in ready with a plan;
Paul is content in sitting). Dagan, for
A while now, has spoken of the risk
In premature attack or bombing, though
From Beck, or Hannity, you’d never know
A voice of opposition could exist
Within the state of Israel. Give him heed;
I doubt Mossad would all the world mislead.

Dome of the Rocket

Catching up today. Yesterday's composition time was taken up by driving a friend home from the wreckage of his totaled car.

The Iron Dome has proved its effectiveness against rockets entering Israel from Gaza.

I'm much more impressed with this technique than the older, Sharon-style Unit 101 techniques of combating terrorism.

I’ve made a brief comparison. Observe:
“A rocket for a rocket” is a creed
Far better than invasion when impeding
Borders and civilians hit a nerve
Among the watching world. A time ago,
The policy was simpler: invade,
And if opposing forces haven’t swayed,
Invade anew (it brought a bitter blow
To Begin). There’s a fundamental flaw
In thinking strength is all that is required.
Better when the enemy is mired,
Wasting all their effort on the draw.
Frustrated foes are money in your pocket.
The Dome, today, is also of the Rocket.

Rasmussen: Mitt is It.

Rasmussen’s got a victor. Make a note:
Assuming all the people who were called
Are honest, and the voting isn’t stalled,
And all solicited are all that vote,
Then Romney is the winner (polls, alas,
Depend upon assumptions). Mitt is it,
If nothing changes ere the end is writ.
And should a controversy come to pass
And make the heart of either bare before
The nation, all the polls again begin
Anew, and all predictions on the win
Begin again. And this should underscore
Exactly why I, were I running, mention
That to the polls I wouldn’t pay attention.

Israel Asks for A Bomb.

Israel has purportedly asked the US for advanced weaponry that would allow it to inflict damage on Iranian nuclear development sites deep underground.
The Jewish state is asking for a bomb.
I’m much inclined to doubt this. If a source,
Confirming all the theories we endorse,
And yet anonymous, with great aplomb
Can mention that the issue now discussed
Is sensitive, I laugh, and then ignore
The rest. For if the scoop is such a bore,
I wonder if it’s given to entrust
The public with a confidence. Observe:
“You think Iran will be attacked? Do note,
They’ve asked for the supplies, but never quote
Me.” Sir, if secrecy’s a hidden nerve,
You’re better off not telling me a thing,
Unless you’ve got a show you wish to bring.

Sunstorm, and I Missed a Day.

Yesterday occurred a sunstorm that had the potential to disrupt cellphone networks and communications.

The following poem was composed with two hours' sleep, fatigue, a good amount of alcohol, and after a lengthy study session for a test this morning.  I'm apologizing in advance.

I had a test, and therefore skipped a day,
And missed, so far as I can see, the sun,
Irradiating, as it does, the one
And only planet near it that’ll say
A sunstorm is a fascinating thing.
I’m betting Mercury just didn’t care,
But we, and with technology, aware
That though our mortal lives are hindering
A bigger, grander view, can ably see
We are, comparatively speaking, weak.
And all the aid and power we can seek
Will aid us none if powers would decree
That we were all to perish, evermore.
(The storm is over; we are as before.)

Romney's Back on Top.

Romney wins most of the Super Tuesday delegates. Santorum's rise is predicated mostly on his stance on social issues, on which Romney appears weaker.


The picture on the Drudge Report is apt,
I guess, if Drudge is pushing Mitt. The man,
With torch aloft, appears as if he can
Perceive a higher power, quite enraptured,
At the possibility of God
Controlling his ascension. Quite a look,
But it’ll never get him off the hook
For being less than blunt in giving laud
To social issues. There, Santorum wins
(Or loses, if you’re gay). It’s still a race,
But Rick is keeping less and less apace,
Despite the many ways in which the sins
Of all society are here ignored
By Romney. Per the race, I’m growing bored.

Obama to Israel: We've Got Your Back

I didn't get a chance to save the image of this headline on Drudge.

No matter. In summary, Obama has not ruled out a democratic solution to a nuclear Iran, but has pledged to back Israel and allow Israel the freedom to make its own decisions.

I have no disagreement on any particular point. But I'm still quite disappointed, given that no one is addressing the larger issue - namely, that the US needs to have some kind of consistent policy for all nations, or at least Mideast nations. Because denying Iranians a right we allow Israel is not going to go over well, especially in light of the overall paranoia that is now so deeply embedded in any Iranians old enough to remember a time when the US was, in fact, the Great Satan. Even if only briefly.

The contrary argument is, of course, that Iran wants nukes for the sole purpose of wiping Israel off the map. For my part, I make the same argument to both sides of the fence - assuming a uniformity of motive, whether benign or malicious, is never a good idea.

And now, the poem. It's depressing:

I wish that Eisenhower had the back
Of Mossadegh, some 60 years ago,
Before the coup d’etat, before the blow
That placed the innocent upon the rack
Of one Mohammed Reza Shah. Iran,
Humiliated, kept producing oil,
Britons keeping peasants to the toil,
Claiming, “democratic to a man,”
To help allay all Eisenhower’s fears
Of Communism rising. Give it time,
And all the gains arisen from the climb
To quick supremacy will come to tears
As Persia rises, thinking it is best
To fear the cultivation of the West.

The Midwest Rebuilds, and Putin is Elected.

I missed a day. Two to make up.

The suffering in the Midwest continues, but is overshadowed by the ascension of Vlad Putin to the presidency of Russia.


I think I live in interesting times.
The ballots have been cast in Russia. He,
The codifier, former KGB,
Is president. Of all the many crimes
Committed on the innocent by those
With power, Putin has himself a few:
The theater in Moscow, or the slew
Of sailors in the Kursk, or, I suppose,
The journalist miss Anna. I digress,
However, and irrelevantly so,
If I would here ignore the Russian polls.
He’s far more popular than the cajoles
And daily cries of “dictator” that flow
From all the western presses. Be advised
That Russia loves the man we’ve never prized.

And for the Midwest:

The hardest part of suffering is this:
It carries on when all have gone away.
The headlines will abandon you, the day
Returning now when something else amiss
About the universe has caught the eye
Of all the weary watching. There, alone,
Is suffering the greatest, the unknown
And dullish days, or years, after the cry
Of pain and terror, beating down the heart.
You’ll fight to keep your paddle up a creek,
But we’ll forget about it in a week.
Together for a time, and then apart:
How pitiless the news is. Carry on.
I hope that all the Angels haven’t gone.

Tornado Swarms

Tornadoes have ripped through several midwestern states. The death toll is above 30.


Authorities in Salem found a child,
Living, and abandoned in a field,
A prisoner of rain and the unyielding
Wind that all of Henryville defiled,
Missing mom and dad, and hope to God
They’re separated only, to await
A storybook reunion. If a fate
Among the many missing, 30-odd
Deceased, or many injured is in store
For her or for her family, recall
That this, the quiet suffering, is all
That Henryville possesses. There are more
Among the dead and wounded to be found.
God help the souls up, underneath the ground.

Andrew Breitbart is Dead.

Yesterday was not the day to finish the daily poem minutes before a much bigger story broke.  Andrew Breitbart is dead.  I wasn't a fan of either politics or reasoning, but I think I would have liked him as a person.  Strong and aggressive personalities make for lasting friendships.


Dear Andrew: you routinely pissed me off.
I had, and more than once, to step away
From my computer, pacing, that the fray
Within me would diminish, or the scoffing
Liberal in me would shut his trap
(He can’t shut up – not ever). Read again,
I tell myself, until the moment when
You see it with his eyes. And though the gap
Between us was a lengthy one, and quite
Impossible to bridge, I do confess
I’d trekked it once or twice, and it was less
Impassable returning. Pick a fight,
Enjoy it, and to you, to spurning fears
Of those who value subtlety, a cheers.

Newt Might Win. The Race Might Be Exciting.

Newt might win Georgia. Drudge's lede is accurate this time.


The story isn’t here, or isn’t writ.
“Newt Gingrich may be set for more success.”
Okay – though I will buy it, I confess
I did expect more detail. It’d befit
A story that predicts a sudden rout
To bathe itself in numbers, or in quotes,
Statistics, so to pull the subtle notes
Of mass conspiracy from all about
The dreary, heaping pile of the facts
That may, or not, suggest that Newt is set
To win another state. And though I bet
He may, the way the newswoman redacts
The story to suggest a larger tale
Is evidence the race is going stale.