Regulations

Despite the constant chorus of
Small business protestations
Everyone in Washington
Is making regulations

On everything from lightbulbs
To bovine flatulations

Our SUVs are way too big
Our thermostats too high
They legislate and regulate
And we all must comply

They monitor our movements
Our e-mails and our text
I hesitate to speculate
On what they’ll tackle next

Before they put restrictions on
Our toe jam, sweat and phlegm
I think we ought to drop a few
Decrees on top of them

No costly perks
No perky clerks
No overdrafts, no franking
And if you tweet your private parts
You get a public spanking

No quoting your opponent
Unless they really said it
No voting on a brand new bill
Unless you really read it

No feeding at the public trough
From now until futurity
Your Pension Plan, I hereby ban
Enjoy Social Security

No island-hopping missions
With trading delegations
Where nothing is accomplished
And seem like paid vacations

Your fawning staff
We cut in half
And please don’t think me callous
You’ll still get your prescription plan
But just not your Ciallis

For those who think my edicts
Deserve disdain and slander
Remember when your goose is cooked
It’s time to stuff the gander

A Religious Test

I stand upon a perfect sphere
And gaze at the horizon
With nothing there to mar my view
Not building, bridge, or bison

I know there must be more
And I am sure you will agree
Beyond the smallish segment
Of this sphere that I can see

Then someone comes along
And asks me if I’ll take a pledge
That I know for a fact
Exactly what’s beyond the edge

I hesitate a moment
Then I softly say a prayer
And confidently state that I am certain
Something’s there.

Though what lies out there beyond
I never saw or laid a hand on
I know that it exists
For it completes the sphere I stand on

Each Sunday afternoon
I dedicate…about an hour
To a humble meditation
On this world’s transcendent power

I listen with attention
To the parson, priest or preacher
Reflect upon a man whose closest friends
Called him, “The Teacher”

I’ll attend with dedication
For as long as my knees bend
To get closer to the truths
That I may never comprehend

To understand a person’s soul
And measure them thereby
Never ask WHAT they believe
Rather, ask them WHY

Poems from the 9/11 Broadcast

The following poem about people who serve in the armed forces during Peacetime was a collaboration among the listeners to Hugh Hewitt's show who submitted bits of verse and personal stories. As Tarzana Joe, I tried to tie their reflections together. We did the project poem in August of 2011. Peacetime was about to end.

Peacetime
It can still happen as before
The threats may wane but never cease
Should we be sure in time of war
So they must serve in time of peace
For peace is such a fragile place
And such an easy thing to lose
A flash of lightning in the sky
A whispered rumor in the news

So who are these who volunteer?
Who give a day and then a year?
And then their lives by their own choices
Let us listen to their voices

We hump the boonies clad in green
We grunts who keep our honor clean
We stand in line; we do a job
We take our place for the good old mob

I signed up when I was 20 but knew it when I was ten
I wanted to be a soldier and serve like the fighting men
My father used to mention when he spoke in that certain way
And broke out the old mementos, on the 4th weekend in May

I was sent there to watch the ballots
On a cloudless, stifling morn
I was there at the birth of a nation
I was not when my son was born

I lost a dozen friendships; it was something I couldn’t explain
Why would a woman want to and what would a woman gain?

I have no foe to conquer but I’m keeping my rifle clean
I polish the brass and buckles and fight off the old routine
I don’t see the rocket’s glaring or the dawn’s revealing light
I just stand at my post and whisper, “Not here, Lord. And not tonight.”

I was on the plane that faltered
On a deck in a pitching sea
The printed my yearbook picture
Yes, America, that was me

They had no though of glory won
Just duty seen and duty done
The souls who serve in Peacetime
Is there a spot where I may sit?
A place where candles can be lit
To those that die in Peacetime
There is no monument it seems
For those who lose their breath and dreams
The souls we mourn in Peacetime
They’ve given more than their fair share
We offer them this simple prayer
God grant them Peacetime

By Tarzana Joe and the Hugh Hewitt audience


4 Questions
By Tarzana Joe
Spring will never come again
No April without pain
Each April the Emancipator's
Slain

Brothers, will there ever
Be a seven in December
When our sons will not
Remember? Remember?

November never passes
Unless I shed a tear
Year after Year after Year

And never in September
Will I look into the sky
Without asking the question
Why? Why? Why? Why?