Year: 2004

Fishing for Votes

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Why presidential debates are the reel deal

Da bait’s on da hook.
But who’s gonna bite?
Da fish on da left?
Or da fish on da right?

Da rivers and lakes
are teaming with trout
as both John and George
eye da poles that they tout.

Ol’ Kerry’s been fishin’
a very long time.
He knows how to cast
though he’s dressed to da nines.

But Bush is quite awkward.
His lines tend to snag.
He’s much more at ease
when he’s hoisting a flag.

On opposite banks
these fishermen stand
from jobs to Iraq
to a partial-birth ban.

A river divides them
on health-care and guns,
gay couple unions
and troop-support funds.

Each man seeks his limit
and each will not quit
’til all fish are counted
on hooks or in nets.

A Super Man Nonetheless

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Remembering the Resilient Christopher Reeve

We pause to grieve
because Chris Reeve
just lost his earthly life.
This super man
had countless fans
and one heroic wife.
Courageously
Chris let us see
he WAS a man of steel.
Though paralyzed
he realized
what matters most is will.
And though confined
he never whined
about his tragic plight.
He learned to cope
while boasting hope
that day would follow night.
But with the dawn
we learned he’d gone
unlike the way he’d planned.
His dream to walk
by death was blocked.
Still Chris WAS Superman.

A Misnamed Saint

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Lessons from a mountain that refuses to die

With a demon-like temper
this saint lost her head.
When her ashes were scattered
we thought she was dead.

But Helen surprised us.
She feigned her demise.
She’s back with a vengeance
and blasphemous sighs.

She’s late for confession.
She’s absent from mass.
This angry old woman
is grimaced by gas.

Her title’s deceiving.
This hag is no saint.
While some think she’s peaceful,
the Lord knows she ain’t.

She’s seething with malice
and won’t be denied.
The pontiff who dubbed her
most certainly lied.

But lest you feel smug-like
and think you’re exempt
examine your anger
those times that you vent.

Does your reputation
match what’s in your heart?
Or is an eruption
beginning to start?

Mother Nature’s Brats

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Recalling the havoc of hurricanes with names

Charles, Frances, Ivan, Jeanne…
Mother Nature’s kids are mean.

Spoiled brats whose tempers flared
striking out at those they scared.

Each with vengeance came ashore
with an eye to bully more.

Without mercy or respect
Mother’s kids left us a wreck.

‘Till this mother trains her young,
watch them spit and wag their tongues.

If you’re willing, Father, please
help Mom Nature curb her breeze.

Morning’s Still Broken

/ Greg Asimakoupoulos

Why U.S. authorities must dog the likes of Cat Stevens

Boomers remember
Cat Stevens’ records
back when our world was crazy yet sane.
Vietnam soldiers
recall cold shoulders
when they returned home bloodied and maimed.

Morning’s still broken,
moon shadows faded.
Oh, very young, our world’s still at war.
There is no peace train.
Terror on airplanes
means Yusuf Islam is welcomed no more.

Crescent moon shadows
all Muslim converts,
still not all converts play terror’s game.
But those on watch lists
really are high risks
and must be de-clawed if not deplaned.

Old Carl Sandburg
pictured the night fog
like cat feet stalking those it deems prey.
So without warning
terror comes storming
quietly cloaking those in its way.

We must be leery
of those who follow
extremist leaders bent on our doom.
Sometimes we error
battling terror
but that’s the cost of forestalling gloom.

* the above lyrics can be sung to the tune for “Morning Has Broken”