The exhausting impact of this presidential race

The race for the White House is wearing me out.
It’s longer than races should be.
I’m losing my interest. Quite honest, I’m bored.
I hate what it’s doing to me.

Each morning Tim Russert (with white board in hand)
points out where each runner is now.
It seems they’ve been running for thirty-six months.
No wonder there’s sweat on their brow.

And they will keep sprinting for several weeks more
before some drop out or slow down.
Are these guys on steroids? on Red Bull? Caffeine?
Cross-country they race town to town.

These marathon runners just stop to debate
and then they return to their pace.
I guess their endurance is better than mine.
I’m sick and I’m tired of this race.

Campaigning’s a pain in the… Well, you know where.
But can we expect it to change?
Not likely. You kidding? This wild goose chase
is what some (I gander) want. Strange!

A look at Chinese toymakers and the Summer Olympics

Dementia’s epidemic.
Alzheimer’s on the rise.
But we’re not memory challenged.
Just look at toys mom buys.

There’s recall all around us
and we dare not forget
that what is made in China
is not the safest bet.

It’s time we voiced our anger
and let young parents shout,
“There’s lead in paint you’re using.
Please stop. Get the lead out.”

But paint aint just the issue.
A pattern of deceit
is what is most disturbing.
When what thought pure’s a cheat.

Come summer, all the nations
will make Beijing their home
as athletes eyeing medals
exert themselves and groan.

But let the nations question
if China will play fair.
Their reputation’s sullied
with recalls in the air.

Those Chinese track and fieldsters
who have Olympic dreams
are surely to be tested
by judges rendered mean.

Let’s hope no toxic levels
will cause China to blush.
Let’s hope they’ve learned a lesson
with plastic toys (and plush).

Celebrating the courage of those who continue to fight

I know an old veteran
in my neighborhood
who lives in his house all alone.
Though he’s dressed like a pauper,
you’d think him a king
most deserving a crown and a throne.

He sits in his wheelchair
remembering tanks
in which he once sat years ago.
His memory may falter,
but he still recalls
the details of war we don’t know.

He thinks of those battles
when fear won the day
and grown men (like boys) wept for mom.
Those foxhole conversions
and frontline assaults
made him pray that he’d live to see dawn.

And he did, although wounded.
The soldier came home.
But sadly he’d not walk again.
His Uncle Sam called him
a hero most brave.
A nephew he proudly called kin.

The veteran then married
the love of his life
who cherished her soldier as gold.
They couldn’t have children,
but never complained
convinced that as one they’d grow old.

But cancer thought different
and came in-between.
At sixty, his wife passed away.
And two decades later,
he still battles grief.
The old veteran fights sadness each day.

His uniform’s faded
but hangs neatly pressed
near the wedding gown Sally once wore.
Two closeted symbols
of promises made
at an altar and frontlines of war.

I love that old veteran.
I call him my friend.
His courage convicts me to fight.
When I’m feeling defeated
or lost in the dark,
I just look down my street and see light.

Exposing the cultural cavity of deception

Preventing truth decay is tough
when truth portrayed is just a bluff.
The oxymorons in the news
are almost laughable.

Press conferences without the press
are windows dressed without a dress.
They’re nothing but hypocrisy.
They’re fraudulent. Obscene.

A holy war in Allah’s name
can’t be as holy as some claim.
It’s terrorism birthed in hate.
It’s neither just nor fair.

Those prime time programs on TV
are not so prime for families.
There’s sex and hard-core violence
that feed our mares of night.

Integrity is often faked,
but such a ploy puts trust at stake.
When what is said is not what is,
corruption wears a crown.

Somehow we’ve got to tell the truth.
Deception’s like a rotten tooth.
Prevention may be difficult,
but it can start with you.