Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Radicalized, two kinds






Radicalized
(by R.P.Edwards)

The aging minister
Knelt and sighed
And prayed his flock
Would be radicalized
That they'd hear God's Word
And know its worth
That they'd walk His will
While here on earth...



So, just before Christmas--the holiday celebrating Christ's birth--three young American service members attending flight training school in Pensacola, Florida, are dead due to the possible "radicalization" of an also attending Saudi student.

Yes, yes, the investigation continues and "terrorism" isn't the official verdict just yet, but really, here's the question: Why do we even entertain the possibility that a foreign "someone" might suddenly decide to take their faith to the extreme? 

Oh, I know, such talk might be considered "Islamophobic," but honestly it is not my intent to speak disparagingly of those who hold to the teachings of Islam; they are what they are. However, how often have we seen someone (usually male) who, for whatever reason, becomes overly "devout" and then commences to act out what they consider a deadly divine directive?

Here's my point; why take the chance? Why entertain the possibility? Why play the guessing game of "not if, but when"? I suppose our bureaucratic "betters" can give a plethora of reasons.

None of which will give solace to the families of three murdered Americans.

The poem continues...

...That they'd love the enemy
That they'd seek the lost
That they'd be like Jesus
At any cost
That they'd consume the Bible
And be heavenly wise
And at last like Christ
They'd be radicalized 

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Wednesday, August 21, 2019

It's ALWAYS personal




It's ALWAYS personal
(by R.P.Edwards)

Personal deaths
Are always worse
When we know their name
And follow the hearse 
But other deaths
Are no less real
Though we know them not
And we have no "feel"...


This humble offering began in early August--the third--when the "news" later in the day became consumed with the horrific happenings in Ohio and Texas: Innocents murdered by crazed rifle-bearers. Horrible stuff.

That morning, however, before the newsworthy carnage, I found myself briefly on the sidewalk outside a notorious abortion clinic in Southern Illinois. In this fortified structure innocent children are routinely ushered to the next life via the most grisly means imaginable, and have been for decades. It is routine and mind-numbing, but there were no journalists, no cameras, no appreciable notice by any except those going in; those who work there; those pleading from the walkway, and of course..."the Supreme Judge of the world."

Not much more to say other than the obvious: when death is personal...we notice. Yes, when a loved one dies or someone we can relate to is murdered (someone's child, someone's friend, someone's spouse or parent) then our "feeler" kicks in and we invest.

But, dear reader, the innocent unborn are just as human, just as "known" to God as those with a face and a history. And, as long as we fail to recognize them; as long we allow, and even encourage their blood to be shed, can we honestly expect "other" murders to decrease? 

The poem continues:


...So before we cry
And with rage lament
Let's remember ALL
Whose life is spent
Not just our measure
That is finite and few
But the measure of God
That includes
Even you






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Monday, July 15, 2019

Why no gratitude?




Not even a Thank You?
(by R.P.Edwards)

Gratitude in short supply
And with our gifts
We wonder why
For others paid
With pain and blood
To buy our rights
To stem the flood
To make a land
Where ALL can fly
Where stars are reached
By those who try
And yet a many
Upon the stand
They shame the past
They bite the hand
Forgetful children
Or never taught
They mock the treasure
That lives have wrought
And eat the feast
Of freedom's bloom
But in there heart
They have no room
And so we turn
As they despise
And leave their tantrum
Ever "I"!
And close the door
And wonder why
Why gratitude is
In short supply


It seems to be a regular occurrence; an aggrieved athlete for some reason upset with some aspect of the country (the current flavor: President Trump) so they choose to dishonor the blood bought land that gave them the opportunity for stardom and wealth, and kneel during the National Anthem.

Ho hum.

I get it that they're upset, but I don't get the broad-brush dissing that they insist on. Surely there's plenty of cameras and microphones available to make their case, but disrespect is their choice. And...I wonder why?

Well, part of the reason must be education. We simply don't teach respect as something of importance. And the next reason is the heart itself. That, however, is dealt with at an alter where kneeling (at least on the inside) is a must.

****











Friday, July 5, 2019

Throwing stones




Stones
(by R.P.Edwards)

Casting stones
At founders, dead
For slaves they owned
For things they said
While we recline
Upon our bed
And dine on children
Cold and red...


A beautiful baby girl, making all those delightful newborn noises that one hears when allowed the privilege of being nearby. A granddaughter, over nine pounds, and with an enviable head of hair already. Lovely, delicate, precious, adorable, unique, and very much a person, crafted by the finger of God.

You know, I can tolerate a lot of nonsense from the left. Of course Socialism and the Green New Deal are bad ideas, but I could roll with them as the nation would invariably suffer, and decline, and ultimately reap the wretched harvest that results from inferior seed. And, of course, there are other areas of disagreement I'll save for another day (although I've covered them before, no doubt) but one issue comes to the forefront and it cannot be dismissed: abortion.

You see, abortion is murder; plain and simple. And the debased thought that unites the many who now vie for the executive pinnacle that because this "life" is dependent, or inconvenient, it's alright to kill; well, that mindset was birthed in hell and no matter the religious prattle that oozes from the lips of these aspirants their foundation is anchored in the very same gross error that once gave solace to the slave owner. Heaven help us if any of these are put in the captain's chair. And heaven help us again if the church doesn't finally rise up to declare, "Thus saith the Lord!" 

The poem continues:


...And when we die
And meet our fate
And get our due
For sin and hate
Our heirs, if any
Will read our tome
Then wipe a tear
And grab a stone 

****


Thursday, March 14, 2019

How Unions saved the Democratic Party




How Loyalty Dies
(by R.P.Edwards)

Loyalty
 Is a matchless place
A sacred bond
With face to face
A binding
Holding
Ever true
An always me
With always you
But even stone
With rain decays
And "Loyalty"
Must go both ways
And as adultery kills
The marriage bond
Some twisted ties
Must not go on




It was the babies dying; that was the final straw, the violent push past the tipping point, the grisly crack that caused the dam to burst and the concrete bond to shatter. Yes, it was this ultimate betrayal that divorced Unions (many) from the party of Jefferson; which led, eventually, to the rebirth of the Democratic party, and perhaps the saving of America. 

It all started long ago. Yes, way back in grandpa's youth there were sure differences between the blue collar and the white. Back then it was Workers rights versus Corporate greed; the little guys defiantly locking arms to defend against the well-moneyed fat cats. The Democrats, the union backers, wore blue. The Republicans, red. Long ago.

Well, in the not so distant past, say a half century, the "Left" began to chisel away at more than just tight-fisted dollar holders. Their (as in "not" necessarily unions) vision was so much broader and far reaching than just paychecks and benefits. It seemed a "new" culture was their desire and, with the constant gushing from tainted Universities along with believers in high places...they got it. 

Oh, to be sure, the deflection was slow at first and, as elections came and went many in the Labor ranks comforted themselves in the voting booth with the thoughts and words: "They're really for me; they'll do what's best," as they loyally, faithfully pulled the blue lever; albeit some holding their nose.

BUT, shortly after the end of the Obama administration the gentle leaning and sliding of the left suddenly became a sprint. From out of nowhere policies that would invariably and obviously kill the economy and make millions destitute (The Green New Deal, Socialism) these were heartily proposed by freshman lawmakers and quickly adopted by the Party elite. And, as egregious as this was, the final offense was when the party of Roosevelt, Truman, and Kennedy pushed abortion, the destruction of innocent human life, to its very limits; even to the point of infanticide.

Well, that did it. This was the bracing slap in the face that demanded a rebuke. And, not surprisingly, it was the local unions involved in heavy industry that were the first to stand up. Before long they were joined by many others and even some public sector unions recognized the dire direction of the nation and that desperate action was needed. 

So, in the year prior to the 2020 election many in Union leadership, loudly, emphatically refused, REFUSED to endorse the Democrat nominee(s) and, although they made it clear that this abstention was for the good of the country and not necessarily a nod to the other party; the results were predictable: There was a landslide for the republican party but...this was just the beginning.

For, you see, post election there was actually very little time spent in wound licking and sour grape eating. Instead, the massive middle of the democratic party demanded an expulsion of the extreme invaders and a return to sanity. And, even when the Far Left's shock troops, Antifa, went to the streets with masks and mallets, these were more than matched by Union hard hats and hammers. AND, as a result, in the next general election the "Blue" party had not only returned to sanity, but they had returned...to office.

And that, dear reader, is how the Unions saved the Democratic party...and the nation.

But, alas, it is only a fanciful dream.

****





Wednesday, March 6, 2019

The New Inquisition





 The New Inquisition
(by R.P.Edwards)

Doctrine Now!
Your answer, please
And by the way
Down on your knees!
Now look this way!
Into our eyes!
And answer sir
Are these your lies?!
(Apply the lash!)
How now your tongue?
Will you recant
Oh, wayward son?
There, there
Here's mercy
For the old
But next time, sir
DO AS YOU'RE TOLD!



A short time ago former Vice President, Joe Biden, had the nerve to call the current VP, Mike Pence, a "decent guy." Some elements on the left went ballistic. Why? Because Mr Pence is a traditional Christian with traditional "I believe the Bible" views on a variety of subjects. Which of course means his views don't align with the new masters of the Democrat Party and he, therefore, cannot be decent.

Poor Joe; thinking that civility still has a place in politics. Thinking that disagreement doesn't necessarily mean your opponent is "evil" or Hitleresque. Believing that maybe you two could go out for a cold one or a sandwich after the debate. But, it has been made abundantly clear to Mr Biden (and any other potential apostates) that such "tolerance" in the modern DNC is a throwback that simply will not be allowed. 

What a curious time we live in. How quickly the ancient mores and morality have been violently replaced by the new (thank you academia and Supreme Court). Let's see, however, if this "progressive" foundation has the strength and staying power of the old. In the meantime I suspect the castigating of "decent" Joe Biden...is just the beginning.

****



Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Where Away Thimble Islands




Long Island Sound
(by R.P.Edwards)

Shallow 
And shielded
From the ocean's strong face
Patriots
And pirates
And captains
And mates
Islands
And inlets
And memories
And more
Waters well wandered
With treasures in store



On a very clear day, with the squinting eye or with a low powered spyglass you could just barely see the hint of Long Island, nearly floating on the horizon. I, on the Connecticut side of the "Sound" was on a temporary stay at a much smaller island named "Money," part of a quaint grouping called "The Thimble Islands." 

It's been well over a half century from my first preadolescent treading of the red granite of that isle and, sad to say, my appreciation matched my age. Now, decades and a substantial distance away, I look back with fondness at a special place; a carve-out from the modern clutter that clings and clogs.

Anyway, I hear Branford CT (the municipality in the area) is having an anniversary of sorts. Worth a look, I'd say. And, while you're at it, check out "The Thimble Islands." There's a tour or two available. My youthful experience was on a boat named Volsunga, first III, and now IV. 

The song: recently discovered in a basement box. Affectionately crafted some time ago, I hope it gives you a taste...for a memorable place.

Thimble Islands

Branford

***