George (10-4-1949 to 5-21-2018)

He walked in the footsteps that few could tread.

His gentle voice was commanding--

Not in a commandeering manner,

But full of understanding,

Kindness, compassion, patience, and peace.

There's no way to measure

The love that permeated his being.

His words: a priceless treasure.

While others with judgmental views

Tear the world apart,

This kind man had not one speck

Of hatred in his heart.

Deep humility guided his steps

And wasn't a mere abstraction.

Passion for humanity

Governed his every action.

You mean Christ, you say to me

With words one could defend.

Christ? No, I mean George,*

My school chum and my friend.

George now has left this world.

It's up to us to find

Ways to carry on the task

That he has left behind.

His lifetime work was all about love--

A feeling to embrace--

For only through love will we make

This world a better place.

(6-28-17; 5-22-18) By Bob B

*The 11th Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New Jersey

Why Do Only Good People Die?

C. B. was a son of a B!

Did anybody really like him?

Most of the people he encountered

Usually found more reasons to strike him.

In school the kids called him a bully.

Bully he was, and bully he did,

Driving inordinate pleasure

Tormenting any vulnerable kid.

His schoolyard behavior was no better

Than his disruptive behavior in class.

In fact, most teachers would call him

An incorrigible pain in the ass.

In high school he was just as aggressive.

His reputation was firmly upheld.

Holding a freshman's head in the toilet

Finally got the bully expelled.

How he earned money. Well, that was

A real mystery--through and through.

Not surprisingly his motto

Was "Screw them before they screw you."

What his girlfriend saw in him

Was truly anybody's guess.

Aware of his fractious personality,

The woman married him nevertheless.

People made bets on how long the couple

Could last in a stormy marriage from hell.

After the wife had had enough,

She packed up the kids and said farewell.

C. B. remained estranged

From both of his kids for the rest of his life.

Some woman out there was very lucky

For he never found another wife.

Money. That was all that mattered.

People? Employees? They were dispensable.

His dog was even afraid of him

And sensed that he was reprehensible.

He bought a number of businesses.

How they lasted was a surprise.

Frankly, most people suspected

Secret Mexican Mafia ties.

One day C. B.'s lifeless body

Was found in his driveway. The coroner said

A heart attack was the cause;

But some suspected foul play instead.

A gravestone reads: "Here lies C. B.

When life was hard, he would persist.

Survived by two loving children,

The doting father will be missed."

Whoever wrote that epitaph?

You wonder: what did he or she owe him?

The author of those unfounded words

Obviously didn't know him.

Oddly the deaths of louses and scoundrels

Are so hard to identify,

For based on gravestones and the obits,

It seems that only good people die.

(6-27-17) By Bob B

The High School Class of '67 Reunion

(To be sung to the tune of the American folk ballad "Sweet Betsy from Pike")

Have you ever heard tell of a school in the West.

It was called Monte Vista. 'Twas one of the best.

Today, even though the school is no more,

The alumni still share a close-knit rapport.

The school's second class to graduate has

High school reunions with lots of pizzazz.

They met with laughter and joyful tears

To celebrate fifty glorious years.

Singing too-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-ay.

The weekend event started out with a bang.

Without a performance or lengthy harangue.

They called it the Friday Night Meet & Greet.

It helped to make their weekend complete.

Hors d'oeurves were spread out; the bar shelves were stocked.

To the best of our knowledge nobody got crocked.

The Monte Vista Mustangs consist

Of fun-loving souls who are hard to resist.

Singing too-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-ay.

Some Mustangs wondered, "What would it harm

If we paid a visit to Knott's Berry Farm?"

On Saturday morning they went to explore

The park and they found they weren't young anymore.

A couple of thrill rides and boy were they toast!

Each rider looked just as white as a ghost.

There's one thing they should have known all the while:

A nice, gentle train ride was much more their style.

Singing too-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-ay.

The Saturday banquet occurred with great flair.

Six teachers and one high school counselor were there.

The evening was wonderful, as was the weather.

Except the prime rib, which was tougher than leather.

When they're together, the Mustangs display

A closeness--a bond--that will not go away.

Many high schools can't even come near it.

It's what we call the renowned Mustang spirit.

Singing too-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-ay.

Some got up early on Sunday and met

For breakfast, for they did not want to let

The weekend pass by without one more chance

To socialize, though some were still in a trance.

That fifty-year milestone is now in their past,

But friendships and memories--ah, they will last.

A closer class is hard to be found.

What will they all do the next time around?

Singing too-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-oo-ra-lee-ay.

(6-26-17) By Bob B

Saber Rattling

Saber Rattling doesn't cut it

In this day and age.

Mindless ranting intensifies

A dangerous pressure gauge.

Threats, idle or otherwise,

Prove not strength but weakness

For those who think diplomacy

Epitomizes meekness.

They say that there is strength in numbers,

But that's not always true.

When numbers mask insecurity,

The real face shows through.

Bellicose banter from afar

Echoes as tensions mount.

Reasoned responses are in turn

What ultimately count.

Credibility indicates

An inner strength and power.

Brute force and ignorance

Ultimately sour.

Praise to those who seek the truth

Before the world shatters.

Woe to us if we lose sight

Of what really matters.

(6-21-17) By Bob B

Politics!

Politics! What a crazy beast--

One that fiercely polarizes

Couples, friends, relatives, and nations

And often denigrates compromises.

You might interpret a situation

From a completely opposite perspective

From how I understand it, for our

Listening skills are oddly selective.

To me a right that goes without saying,

Might be a dangerous threat to you.

Likewise, a cause that's close to your heart

Is one I might not take kindly to.

Politics shouldn't be so divisive.

After all, it's plain to see

That everyone would get along

If everybody thought like me.

(6-20-17) By Bob B

Guns in the Wrong Hands

Every time a shooting occurs,

We shake our heads in disbelief.

Subsequent dialogues reach

An impasse that further deepens our grief.

Democrats insist that current

Gun laws are not strict enough--

An idea that many Republican

Lawmakers firmly rebuff.

Those same Republicans

Choose to exercise their might

In protecting what they consider

Americans' Second Amendment right.

Democrats, in disagreement,

Counter with increasing frustration

That aspects of the Second Amendment

Leave much room for interpretation.

"This is not the time," some say,

"For lengthy discussions on gun control."

And once again we find ourselves

Going down the rabbit hole.

Gun violence here is inter-

Nationally unparalleled.

A vicious circle perpetuates

A tragedy that's unexcelled.

Guns in the wrong hands we know

Will have violent repercussions.

The only way to solve the problem

Will come from having healthy discussions.

If we maintain the status quo,

Read the writing on the wall:

Death and violence will increase

If no action is taken at all.

(6-15-17) By Bob B

If Your Birth Sign Is Cancer... (6-21 to 7-22)

You are very likely to have

Remarkable intuition.

What makes you extremely nurturing

Is your caring disposition.

You react emotionally

To everything, but sometimes notions

Might be instrumental in making

You a prisoner of your emotions.

You are attached to home and hearth,

But it isn't at all bizarre

For you to make a comfy, homey

Atmosphere wherever you are.

Because you're apt to cling to the past,

Sometimes you will find it hard

To let go of things in your life.

You have to be on your guard:

If you are not careful, you'll

Find your life in complete disorder

When you're no longer the avid collector

But instead the consummate hoarder.

Even regarding relationships,

It's hard for you to let them go.

Once you've reconciled that issue,

You'll have reached a new plateau.

Your sensitivity

Reflects the circumstances around you.

Being needed and helping others

Are two things that solidly ground you.

Emotional security

Is, of course, your principal goal.

Just don't stoop to manipulating

Others in order to be in control.

A strong will and determination

Guide you to help others in need.

But if you feel too insecure,

Criticism will make you bleed.

If you feel at all threatened,

Your ambitions will remain hidden

Until you're somewhat confident

That all threats have been overridden.

You are deeply concerned about

What other people think of you.

So building your self-confidence

Is one of the best things you can do.

Only when you are comfortable

Will you open up completely,

Although your guarded nature will

Tend to make you do it discreetly.

You love feeding family and guests

Even if you aren't the best cook.

You love to add your personal flair

And hate to always go by the book.

Since you absorb so many feelings

From your surroundings, you must retreat

To a quiet place at times;

If not, your engine will overheat.

Don't let your moods get out of hand,

And work on being more direct.

Then the world will be your oyster--

More so than you'd ever expect.

(6-14-17) By Bob B

At the President's First Full Cabinet Meeting

"Now that we are gathered here,

Let us count all the ways

I have been successful in

My first 143 days.

"When we look at my wonderful record,

It's impossible not to see

That no other president

Has ever done more than me.

"So let's go around the table.

I would like to hear from you.

Tell me what you think of me--

Of course, from MY point of view."

"Thank you," said Secretary Priebus,

Opening his packet of Splenda,

"For the opportunity

And blessing to serve your agenda."

The lavishing of praise continued.

They knew what would come to pass

If they didn't pour it on

And kiss the president's giant ass.

(6-13-17) By Bob B

Forty-nine Times

A little after two A.M.

This morning forty-nine names were read--

The names of forty-nine victims who

Now are sleeping among the dead.

They lost their lives a year ago

When a gunman, ISIS-inspired,

Sneaked his weapon into a nightclub,

Held it up, and open-fired.

Those who survived the horrible shooting

At the gay club where the crime took place

Will have to relive the constant nightmare.

It's hardly something that time can erase.

Fifty-three patrons were wounded that night,

Many of whom still are reeling

From the horror, and they still require

Physical and mental healing.

Think of the families and friends of the victims.

Think of the magnitude of their loss.

How do you measure the sadness when

Extremists and innocent lives crisscross?

People from all over the world

Were appalled by the killer's barbarity

And sent kind words of sympathy

As they joined together in solidarity.

However, from under a dark veil

Of hatred and hypocrisy,

Emerged some voices of hatred from those

Hell-bent on a theocracy.

Voices of fanaticism,

No matter the source, always destroy

The goodness that is meant to be

And stifle liberty and joy.

Today in Orlando and in other cities,

Forty-nine times the church bells will sound.

May we remember the innocent victims

And let love and compassion abound.

(6-12-17) By Bob B

He Said, (S)He Said

One guy says the other guy did it;

The other guy denies it.

The world watches the back and forth

As stations televise it.

In what the one doesn't say

Much can be inferred

If the listener carefully

Examines every word.

When the other opens his mouth

Different worlds collide

As outrageous accusations

Knock the truth aside.

The first one has a sterling record;

The other one's pants are on fire.

Would you believe the first one OR

The pathological liar?

(6-10-17) By Bob B

"Oh, Lift the Cloud"

"Investigations

Get in the way.

How sad! They turn

My bright sky gray.

Some things are better

Not to know.

That's what I learned

Long, long ago.

(CHORUS)

"Oh, lift the cloud

That's over my head.

Come on, let's put

This baby to bed.

My loyal lackeys

All make me proud.

So will you, too,

If you lift this cloud.

"Oh, I can fire

Whoever I choose.

Then you can watch

It on the news.

Or you can read

It in my tweet.

Sometimes life

Is bittersweet.

(CHORUS)

"Oh, lift the cloud

That's over my head.

Come on, let's put

This baby to bed.

My loyal lackeys

All make me proud.

So will you, too,

If you lift this cloud.

"About Putin…

Well, he's no threat.

The only thing

That I regret

Is that I couldn't

Make people see

That Putin's been

Very good to me.

(CHORUS)

"Oh, lift the cloud

That's over my head.

Come on, let's put

This baby to bed.

I hope you do

What makes me proud.

You'll be my friend

If you lift this cloud."

(6-8-17) By Bob B

When Crazy Fiction Becomes Our "Facts"

It's amazing how many people are not

Appalled by Trump's alternate reality,

Which is fed by political gibberish

That gives it a vitriolic vitality.

The man sees the world not as it is,

But only in how he can mold and shape it.

His main relationship with the earth

Is finding ways to plunder and rape it.

Scorning science and fact-based query,

He is more content to remain

In a protective shell of ignorance.

That's impossible to explain.

Alternative facts permeate

His psyche, leaving him out of touch

With truths that help the world progress.

To him such truths are only a crutch.

He's conned the people into believing

That corporations would never deceive them.

When he and his team make up stories,

Astonishingly, people believe them!

Political correctness to him

Is an obstacle in his path,

And anyone who points that out

Becomes the target of his wrath.

Paranoia underlies

His selfish motives and decisions.

Bizarre conspiracy theories color

Much of the content of his visions.

Compassion to him is strictly conditional

And given with expectations in mind.

Strict adherence to extreme notions

Has made him forget how to be kind.

His idea of greatness is really

A chimera that reiterates

A motto of separation: "We

The privileged of the United States."

(6-7-17) By Bob B

Blaming Pandora

Pandora lifted the lid from her box

And boy! ALL hell broke loose.

You want to put the "evils" back?

You can try, but it's no use.

(It wasn't a box but really a jar,

Many translators maintain.

Box, jar…call it whatever.

The story's key points remain.)

Hephaestus had followed Zeus' orders

And made Pandora from the earth.

The first of the race of women was she,

The story goes--for what it's worth.

Sickness, strife, toil, killing…

In short the ills of humankind

Escaped and now we're stuck with them.

For any evil that comes to mind--

Countless ways to destroy the earth,

Ways to kill, ways to maim,

Terrorist bombs, torture, and plunder--

Dear Pandora takes the blame.

(She shares similarities

With Eve of Biblical fame, but whether

There were connections, that would be

Another story altogether.)

If someone said, "See this box?

Don't open it, whatever you do."

Or gave the command, "Don't eat this fruit!"

Wouldn't you be curious, too?

In letting out the world's evils

Pandora was pushing the envelope.

The one thing that she left in the box

Was a little glimmer of hope.

Maybe that hope stays in the box--

Out of our touch. That's a suggestion.

Or if it were released, could it

Conquer evil? That's a good question.

Couldn't Pandora see that this

Was JUST a setup? Well, she should have.

But if SHE hadn't lifted the lid,

Somebody else certainly would have.

(6-6-17) By Bob B

It Will Pass*

A monk went to meet with his master

And wondered what the sage would say.

"Master," he said, "I'm disappointed;

Today hasn't been my day.

"My mind is very distracted; it's like

A monkey jumping from limb to limb.

My legs ache; my eyelids are heavy;

I fall asleep when the lights are dim.

"Whatever I'm doing doesn't seem right.

I seem to be floundering in a morass."

The master quietly gazed at the student

And calmly said, "It will pass."

A month later the monk returned

To meet with his master once again.

"Master," he cried excitedly,

"I think I've grasped the meaning of Zen!

"Today my meditation was perfect.

I feel so calm; I feel such peace.

My mind is clear, focused and centered--

The way it should be when all thoughts cease.

"It's just like a…I don't know…

A calm lake as smooth as glass."

The master looked at the monk and said

Matter-of-factly, "It will pass."

(6-1-17) By Bob B

*A Zen story retold in verse