Sitting upon a small island

A town rich with culture and beaches covered in white sand

Peaceful little place living under Roman rule

Whose people are granted a nice sea breeze that keeps the town cool

Hephaestus’ armory at the island’s center

The home of every blacksmith’s mentor

One day out of nowhere

That sleeping mountain had awaked and its fiery wrath the people had to bear

Smoke and soot blackened the sky

So dark that not even birds dared to fly

A pillar of lava sprouted from its mouth

Decimating everything to the south

Townspeople run and hide

Praying to appease the Olympians they may have defied.

Trees and buildings, people and pets, buried in a coffin of ash.

In four days time, all gone in a flash

Now what remains are nothing but ruins

Scattered and fallen fragments lay like knocked down pins

While that mountain hibernates, still peering down at the wine fields of Naples

As tourists explore that ancient city which was known for its wheat staples.

Those wings fly through the night

Aiding Perseus in his fight

Against Eight’s waves and creatures

Told in stories by Old Greek Teachers

Soaring through the sky as if a bird

Wings make no sound, nor speak a word

Able to lift Hercules and his great mass

Loving the taste of apples, but do not mind grass.

Flying along side Apollo’s chariot

Surviving any wound no matter how deep the cut.

Galloping in that moonlight sky

Dreams of being on saddle and to fly.

Glory granted a place in the stars

Without cage, chains nor bars.

Watching over mankind and seeing those planes, trains and cars

Eternally resting beside a blackened night or spoken in stories sealed in ancient glass jars.

Here in this lime lined, green field

A battle is to be fought without mercy, without yield.

Two platoons of a baker’s dozen each.

Fighting one another for glory and honor in which they reach.

Four judges are assigned to observe this fight

Each knowing what is foul and what is right

One army, nine in total, enters the scene, the other four are on relieve.

A single soldier of the opposing force arrives hold a sword ready to cleave.

The sniper on a mound a distance away gets ready to fire.

Three bullets are shot off, that soldier tries to repel, but his movements are too slow as

     if he were pulling a tire.

The head judge tells the man to leave and another man comes up ready to strike.

Holding his sword in both hands as if it were a pike.

But like the first man, he was unsuccessful.

A different man comes ready to charge, but he too fell short of resourceful.

The platoons swap places

The other squad’s opening man came from inside a cave and all the animals howled until

red was the color of their faces.

Similar to their enemy, they too failed to advance.

This continued for a while until Hades started to decline, as the local army was trying to

     make a strong stance.

Its last fighter, a weak little kid, took up his heavy saber and approached the enemies

home base, praying to God while looking up at the sky.

The first shot is released and the kid swings, that iron ball was repelled and soared high.

All of the stationed enemy platoon ran to stop it, but is could fly.

It flew over the barricade and all the beasts wailed, that man hit each supply station and

     made it back safely home.

The adjudicators called the battle over, the local army won and that award they received

made of gold not chrome.

Forever in that great green field, stories of the past still remain

    But these stories for the future will never wane.

Congress Can’t Dictate

        Law Enforcement Officers’

              Efforts to Obey

Oh, No! Gepeto

        Your Puppet Strings Are No More

              For the Tenth Protects

Come on down

To Charles-town

Get Your D.L.

But Give Us Your Name, Address and Cell

Don’t Worry, Your Information is Secure

Until We Sell It Out the Backdoor

How Dare Congress Enact

That Drivers’ Privacy Protection Act

But Here, Unlike In Printz

We Cannot Convince

That Information Sold Does Not Commerce Make

So Here Too Cannot Foresake

As States Are Not Commandeered

But Rather Just Prohibited

As Individuals Under General Applicability

It Is Within Congress’ Capacity

For the Tenth is no shield

To the Commerce Power and Pen Congress does wield

All in All, Let It Be Said

The D.D.P.A. Is Not Dead

Six days a week, what can I say?

Four to work and two for play?

Three Hundred and thirteen days a year might be bad luck

But don't be awestruck

Because leap years will have three hundred and twelve

So take out a pen and let use delve

Into the wonderless world of basic math

So that I can take you down an illuminating path

Here we go, 312 days in a leap year

If you add 3 plus 1 plus 2 it is clear

That the magic number you get is 6

So go be useful and pick up some sticks

The fires about to die

He didn't "let there be light"...why?

Seriously, a world without Mondays cannot be

Imagine a world without a clear sky and blue sea

Mondays allow lazy people to be productive

Well, at least a little more constructive.

What would I do with myself

Hey, that shelf isn't gonna make itself

Here I am on a Tuesday

Thinking that the weekend just ended

I have an exam tomorrow and am in dismay

I wish the week was extended

Its Wednesday and the exam just finished

I am exhausted and need some sleep

My week and soul are both dimished

Time to go count some sheep

Off goes the alarm

Like a thundercloud in my head

As if a hammer is playing chopsticks with a firearm

Its too early to get out of bed

Thursday as it were

Is probably the worst

I need a hard liqueur

I think this day should be curst

Another miserable day at school

A new exam on Tuesday and a paper due next week

On how to use a mule to get a joule

Don't ask me, I think the teacher's a freak

Okay, Friday is finally here

Party now and paper later

Now watch me make that bag of chips disappear

Don't be a food hater

Ugh, I ate too much

It's Saturday and I still got that paper to write

What's that smell? Penuche?!

Nothing better than writing a paper with some fudgy delight

Okay, it is 8:30PM and not a word put down

No more procrastinating

Don't want to be a clown

Why am I still waiting?

Let's do this!

Using a mule to get a joule of energy

Step one: get the mule to move in kinesis

By feeding the mule some celery

The end...that wasn't so bad.

Time for a shower and a nap

Maybe a show about Stalingrad

I gently close my eyes and then SLAP!

"Wake up, you're late"

"But mom, it's only Sunday."

"What are you talking about? It's half past 8."

"Let me just sleep in today."

And so I slept in

Good thing exam isn't till Tuesday.

A whole 24 hours to begin

Studying about a battle called Midway.

Crack a peek at the clock

It read a quarter past 7

Oh shit, what a crock!

My exam is today! At 11!

I wouldn't care about the work

But geez, I wish I had another day.

It truly is not a perk

To live in a world with Monday.

I am sitting in class

Looking forward at the teacher

From the corner of my eye

He is sitting there

Staring on at us, not saying a word

He listens intently at every word spoken

We all know he is there

Yet we say nothing.

The dinner table is full with all sorts of delicacies

Lobster, Turkey, Sushi, Corn on the cob, Mashed Potatoes, and so on

We all sit down to enjoy this meal

But there he is in the corner speechless

Not wanting to sit or partake

We all know of his hunger

Our stomach’s twist at the thought

Yet we act like nothing is wrong and continue our meal.

The office is pack full with wealthy businessmen and women

Typing away on their new computers and phones

Sipping coffee while talking to colleagues

In the nice air conditioning

There he is on the other side of the door

Not wanting to come in

Just staring through the window

We all know his dreams of joining us but cannot

Yet we act like he is not there.

The party is filled with old and new friends

Everyone is there drinking, dancing and laughing

Each person has his or her own partner

They all waltz on to the dance floor

In the center of the floor, he is standing

We all know his loneliness

Yet we brush against him as we dance, as if he was air.

The line at the bank

Stretches out the front door

Men and women all checking their balances

Counting the many zeros that are there

Over our shoulders, we feel his glare

Not joining this line of zero counters

As we clench our wallets

We all knowing he is void of even a copper piece

Yet we shrug him off and continue counting.

People running around from store to store

Collecting items like cloth, food and glamor products

We all complain that we bought too much

Over the sound of the rustling bags

We all hear him staggering through the crowds

We all know of his tattered rages and shoeless soles

Yet we ignore him and move on to the next shop.

At the graveyard, a burial is underway

A rich man has just passed away

All his lovers and friends have gathered to say goodbye

Flowers envelop his grave, his name donned with golden lettering

As the ceremony concludes, we all walk back to our nice cars

On our way back

We pass him standing over a blank, forgotten, stone wrapped in weeds

We all know of his sorrow

As we continue to move forward towards our expensive, foreign cars

Yet we make ourselves to believe that there is no such disremembered grave.

From birth to death

He is always there

Looking on with solemn, pitiful eyes

We try not to notice

But he is impossible to miss

His presence is everywhere

The harder one tries to forget him

The more he is seen

If we  had just acknowledged him

And gave him a little aid and support

He may go away

If by sheer fate our roles were reversed

We, who have it all, will become him and he us

Nothing more and nothing less

Just the Elephant in the room.

A warm summer day built to the past.

Rising mist, lifting air and whistling sounds.

Days at school not to hold the last?

No heavy breathing, no heart that pounds.

Saw the kingfisher perched in a stare.

By the fallen tree and rocks wearing moss.

Squinting my eyes and wondering at the glare.

My first cast is long with an effortless toss.

The splash takes to a wide hooping ring;

A tug, a bump and then I feel slack.

To remember that ripple makes my thought sting.

Watch that line tighten, straighten and move back.

I land her in quickly like nothing at all.

A five pounder plus, how I do love this, she’s meant for the wall.