Beyond the Myths of Camelot and Mayberry

How JFK’s tragic death changed our view of reality

Our memories are in black and white
as we recall that silent night
when we ate supper without words
the day our leader died.

We cried when Walter Cronkite said
that JFK was really dead
and that our dreams of Camelot
were only make-believe.

A son’s salute. A horse-drawn hearse.
Our kingdom went from grief to worse
as Vietnam and racial war
gave way to riot gear.

What’s clear amid the blur of facts
is how a rifle (like an axe)
would separate the world we knew
from what it would become.

Our naïve nation came of age
as protests, free love, pot and rage
would prove our moral bankruptcy,
yet free us to be real.

For forty years we’ve grieved a loss
that catapulted us across
a chasm that had frightened us
from leaving Pleasantville.

Beyond the myth of Mayberry
we’ve seen what Opie couldn’t see…
that life ain’t fixed in half an hour,
but God is always there.

Persecution Past and Present

What do Christians in America have to look forward to?

Best beware. The worst awaits us.
Christians soon will pay a price
to embrace a “one way” message
based in Jesus’ sacrifice.

There’s a move afoot among us
to suggest each faith’s the same.
And while you can say “God bless you,”
don’t you dare use Jesus’ name.

If you do you may be branded
as a bigot lacking worth.
You can sing God bless our nation,
just don’t say He came to earth.

As it was it shall again be,
when the faithful will be jeered
just for following core values
that the world considers weird.

What is dark will grow much darker.
We’ll be bruised, abused, and scarred.
But although we’re scoffed or martyred,
we will shine like distant stars.

Though new laws may nix our freedoms
and negate the Source of life,
He whose name incites division
will stand with us in the strife.

Who Says The War Is Over?

Attempting to make sense of a troublesome truce

The war is over (so they say).
So why do troops still die?
The death toll’s mounting day by day
and critics wonder “why?”
“Why did we go to war?” they ask.
“Why can’t we find Hussein?”
“Why can’t we find those missing nukes?”
“Why not in heaven’s name?”
“Why can’t our soldiers leave Iraq?”
“Why must they linger there?”
“Why doesn’t Bush say ‘That’s enough’?”
“Why can’t he seem to care?”
But, maybe those who criticize
should understand the score.
What’s going on is not a game.
It’s gruesome, bloody war.
There are no halves or innings.
There are no rules or refs.
And unlike golf there is no prize
when there is sudden death.
Each ambush ups the ante.
We’re made to look like fools.
Perhaps we should start up again
and shoot those heartless mules.

Mother Justice is Blind No More

Right to Life Rulings Challenge Political Correctness

These are days
to praise our Maker
(and thank our lawmakers).
In a culture
that is speeding
in the direction
of moral retardation,
the right to life
hasn’t been completely
left behind.
At least for now,
justice isn’t blind
when it comes to
the inalienable privileges
of those partially born
or partially alive.
Eyes closed to truth
have finally opened.
But for how long?
Isn’t it about time
Mother Justice’s blindfold
be untied for good?
Should parents need a lawyer
just to let their daughter live?
Should a fed-up husband be allowed
to keep his wife from food?
Should a mother
(enveloping a fully-formed baby)
be allowed to refuse delivery
of priority mail at the doorstep
while stamping “return to Sender”
on a love letter from Heaven?

P.S. No matter the hand
that we’ve been dealt,
life trumps death any day.

The Pope’s Curtain Call

Reflections on the Pontiff’s 25th Anniversary

One last curtain call
for the one called John Paul
who for twenty-five years has been Pope.
From his Vatican perch
he has guided his church
while preventing his priests to elope.
And though he’s been weak
and unable to speak,
this Pole’s been a measuring rod.
He’s a ruler whose aim
is to keep rules the same
when some players attempt to play God.
Though he looks dead, he aint.
He made Terry a saint.
He still has some Poping to do.
Till the Lord calls him home,
there is no place like Rome.
After all, John Paul’s room has a view.