Near, Yet Far 2-10-16

Oh, where has that young child gone?

Where now is that young boy -

the one with cute and chubby cheeks,

the one with eyes of joy?

His eyes were blue and innocent.

His skin was pure and smooth.

Obeyed, he did, his parent's rules.

His heartaches, mom would soothe.

He listened with attentive ears

and he obeyed advice.

Some thought he was a bit naive,

but he was simply nice.

His peers would laugh, make fun of him,

his pants short, second-hand.

His shoes had worn up through the soles

inviting stones and sand.

He often sat in deepest thoughts -

just God and him alone -

discussing unknown future times

that only God had known.

So work, he did, through day and night

with utmost sacrifice.

But forty years was all for naught

and it would not suffice.

His father died, then mother too,

on sad and lonely days.

Her words of comfort vaporized

in many tear-filled ways.

A glimpse of him, I thought I had

inside my soul of gloom -

and moisture filled, again my eyes,

inside my life of doom.

He lived in distant era, so

removed from current time -

I can't go back.  Corruption is

a crass and dirty crime.

If, for a moment, I could fill

his worn-out humble shoes,

I'd long to stay again right there.

I know that's what I'd choose.

I'd seize upon his innocence

before those truths that are -

but I stare into mirror now,

for boy that's near, yet far.

The one with cute and chubby cheeks,

the one with eyes of joy -

oh, where has that young child gone?

Where now, is that young boy?

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Givers & Takers 2-5-16

Inside this world of hate and love

of sour and dessert,

so many 'take' while others 'give'.

with sacrificial hurt.

Some lie to get just what they want.

Some steal and get their way.

And they don't care what we endure

or what we think or say.

Some, out of spiteful, angry hate,

think they are tough with gun.

Some reach the bottom very fast

and murder just for fun.

I see myself and know I'm not

a 'taker' like the rest.

I know that I'm a 'giver' and

I live among the best.

I once had climbed on pedestal

and stood up straight and tall -

but then I saw what Jesus paid

and that He gave His all.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Penned With Love 1-28-16

Back in a corner, where she hid,

I met a little child, I did.

She was a quiet, fragile child

who never laughed and seldom smiled.

Her eyes were blue, her hair light brown,

but she was hurt and feeling down.

Her clothes were tattered, filled with holes.

like many people and their souls.

I spied her tears when she had cried.

I had not known her mother died.

Her age was eight, or maybe nine.

Her troubles were much more than mine.

I knelt down close to her and said,

"Have you a home?  Have you been fed?"

Despite the crowd that gathered 'round,

our space was quiet - without sound.

I reached deep down in pocket and

I held your poem in my hand.

I opened scrap of paper proud,

then read your poem right out loud.

My eyes became a fuzzy blur.

I know you wrote it just for her.

She reached for me with all her hurt.

I hugged her back, ignoring dirt.

Words can't replace a bed and food

but fills with joy, the attitude.

I haven't seen her for awhile,

but know your poem made her smile.

Though some write many, some write few.

We've penned with love our words to view.

So write your rhymes unselfishly

with kindness, care and empathy.

And don't be hurt when I'm away

out sharing poems day to day.

Much better than some silly toy,

your words, for some, give real joy.

Back in a corner, where she hid,

I met a little child, I did...

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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My Old Hometown Church 1-16-16

There's something that perplexes me

as I, my mem'ries, search,

right here among familiar pews

in my old hometown church.

It's been so many decades now

since I have been around.

Those many years have faded fast

with oh, so little sound.

I sit a-spell and reminisce

in silence that remains,

from walnut pulpit up in front

to stained glass window panes.

The cross behind the pulpit hints

a show of halo's glow.

It seems to be inviting me.

There's much I still don't know.

My eyes drop down in front of me

upon a hymnal book.

I hesitate and ponder some

before I take a look.

Those tunes and words come quickly as

my sorry psyche swims

to words of His "Amazing Grace"

and more familiar hymns.

Familiar are both floor and walls.

Familiar are the lights.

Reflecting back to faces though,

my deepened grief ignites.

So many friends I cannot see.

They've moved or passed away.

No, time and change are not my friends!

How did I go astray?

How many times can God convict

me of my wicked ways?

How many times did I pretend

and did not give God praise?

I crave and plead that time turns back.

It rips my insides out!

It makes me blame somebody else.

It makes me want to shout.

There's something deep down in my gut

that I can't sanitize.

Confession comes, repentance looms

with something in my eyes...

As I stare squarely at myself -

and you know how it goes -

the lightning strikes and thunder roars

as levee overflows.,,

But lonely tears are wiped away,

for love will always be,

as grace holds all of Heaven up

throughout eternity.

My long, sad tears dry from my cheeks

as I, my mem'ries, search,

right here among familiar pews

in my old hometown church.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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From One Hundred Word 1-10-16

The picture, envisioned from one hundred word

was written with rhymes in a poem then heard,

by one lonely soul who was starving for love

from having no knowledge of God up above.

And then came another, another one too,

until it was heard by much more than a few.

When multitudes heard it, they had ne'er a choice

but hear His soft whisper, His Heavenly voice.

Unknown was the one who had written that poem

so others could hear of our Father and know Him.

And all because one little poem was heard -

and picture, envisioned from one hundred word.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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(note:  there are one hundred words in the poem above)

Of Rocks & Truths 1-1-16

The rolling seas will rise and fall.

They call to one and all.

The waves will splash, forevermore,

those giant rocks on shore.

Emotions thoughts will come and go.

They ever tempt us so.

But lies still fail to even prod

those solid truths of God.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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The Old and Lonely Poet 12-26-15

On edge of arid desert set

a trailer aged in rust

with tires flattened long ago

and covered thick with dust.

A friend I'd known for many years

had lived alone inside -

and if his lamp was burning, then

I knew he hadn't died.

The lamp seemed always to be lit

but never did complain.

Then sure enough, I saw him there

through dirty window pane.

The Great Depression hurt him so.

I saw it in that place.

I saw it in his lonely words.

I saw it in his face.

The mental stress that he went through

was far too much to bear -

and would have been for anyone

if they were sitting there.

But they were not.  Just he alone

survived his great ordeal.

And his reward?  An empty can,

a cold and meager meal.

The old man couldn't hear too good.

The years had quickly passed -

so catching his attention, I

tapped loudly on the glass.

It seemed to take forever, but

he made it to the door.

Black cobwebs hung from corners and -
newspapers hid the floor.

He greeted me with friendly eyes,

skin wrinkled deep from sun.

He made me feel welcome, though

his work was never done.

I visited for quite awhile

as he kept at his rhymes.

He changed his thoughts, his lines, his words

at least a thousand times.

I said, "It must be good enough."

Replied he, "Not at all.

It doesn't capture God's great love.

This needs an overhaul.

For God is love and God is grace

in absolute perfection -

so how can I write something less

to add to this collection?

"This poetry I write for God
must always be perfected -

or basket, full of waste, is filled

with poems I've rejected."

I fell asleep while sitting there.

I woke at 3 AM

and heard him mumble something like,

"...to change the hearts of them."

Observed, I did, his wise old ways.

I'd learned all that I could -

but never measured up to him -

my writing, not as good.

I saw his great intensity.
I stayed with him for days.

I watched his sacrificial work

I saw his humble ways.

He strove to write in perfect words,

expressing his rare love

for all of those who'd done him harm

from politics above.

Forgiving them of evil deeds

had given him such peace -

that each and ev'ry word he wrote

became a masterpiece.

Though sometimes folks still speak of him,

he never set his goals -

to elevate his unknown name -

but rather save the souls -

through writings that should touch the hearts

of other eager men -

who draw attention to themselves

through selfish, prideful sin.

I once decided to return -

to visit one last time.

The old and lonely poet, though,

had written his last rhyme.

The years have passed.  Such great respect

I had for that old man.

Could I improve my poetry

for God?  He proved I can!

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Christmas Snow 12-20-15

When I was just a little lad

I heard my mother say,

"There's nothing like a Christmas snow

that falls on Christmas day."

And so one Christmas morning I

was curious to know -

if lawn would still be grassy green

or covered up with snow.

My room was dark.  My bed was warm.

Some sleep was in my eyes.

But hurried, I, to fin'lly see

my Christmas snow surprise!

I threw my blanket off my bed

and slid off to the floor.

It still was dark - so ran into

my dresser's open drawer.

I didn't cuss, but threw a fit -

and then I hurt my shin.

My attitude was sinking as

I slammed the drawer back in.

I raced up to my window where

I'd peek outside to see -

if God had sent a Christmas snow

especially for me.

I threw the curtains to the sides -

I guess a bit too hard -

because the falling curtain rod

had caught me there off-guard.

My arm still hurt from dresser drawer,

my head from curtain rod.

And when I saw no Christmas snow

I blamed both mom and God.

It seemed I didn't matter and -

God had no longer cared.

So feeling sorry for myself -

I, out the window, stared.

All morning long, I trudged along

and dragged my little feet.

It seemed that Christmas, once again,

would turn out incomplete.

My sentiment and attitude

was not a gentleman's.

The tantrums I had Christmas day

had dwarfed all other ones.

I wasted more than half that day

before mom called to me -

and said, "Come quickly.  Look at this.

There's something you should see."

To my surprise, from up above

and falling from the sky -

a Christmas snow proved God loves me,

...but now I'm not sure why.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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From Across the Lake 12-12-15

The cabin built with sturdy logs

(that firmly stood awake)

was nestled snugly in the trees

beside this quiet lake.

A dim and amber light shone out

to greet the lonely eye -

reflecting off this tiny lake

here under cloudy sky.

Through window pane, that sorry lamp -

far off on other side -

had shone from on a tabletop

with unseen chair beside.

And faithful chair supported all

the poet's ev'ry task.

Yet that old chair is empty now,

"but why?" you maybe ask.

You wonder who that poet is

or why he is away.

You wonder if he writes at night

or all throughout the day.

But when he comes, the chair again

will groan under his weight.

And over many months and years,

his work will rhymes create.

Now you might think and may conclude

of him, you didn't hear -

but I know this, you've read his work,

at least this poem here.

A glow begins to pour across

the sky in loving fun..

It reaches out so wide and far

with nearing of the sun.

And that light now reflects off of

a paper holding rhyme -

and calls me from across the lake.

I guess it's about time...

©2015 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Snowflake 12-05-15

Born high inside a winter cloud,

a snowflake I became.

A snowflake small, defenseless and

too poor to have a name.
I opened up my naive eyes.
I had so much to learn,
but did not know the truth of life
or which way I should turn.

I was content with floating free -

as free as any bird,

until some other flakes whizzed by

and shocked me as I heard;

"Get out of here you stupid flake!

You're in our treasured world.

We're here to make a winter storm."

With that, they whipped and swirled.

Impeding them, they elbowed me.

My world turned up-side-down.

The wind was stiff and tossed me too
above a country town.

My glimpse at Christmas lights was brief

and couldn't be expressed -

as more flakes shoved me to the side

and wouldn't let me rest.

I wanted calm serenity,

but this is what they'd say;

"You bother us!  Get out of here!"

You're always in our way!"

They pushed and shoved and shoved and pushed.

I found it most appalling.

...And none of them had realized

that all of us were falling...

I saw a 'V' formation of

some southern flying geese.

If only I could hitch a ride -

then maybe I'd have peace...
I'd cherish, under tall palm trees,
the warming breezes felt.

But, if indeed, they're flying south,

I wondered, would I melt?

This life can be so burdensome,

this world so turbulent.

I prayed, "God, give me peace and rest"

as I made my descent.
I hovered over roadway where

I thought I'd safely land.

But then came two huge semi-trucks

that didn't understand.

The world had thrown me yet again.

My life became a blur!

But then I slowed and settled on

a Colorado fir.

And where were those insulting me?

It really was profound.

They melted under tire tracks

from traffic eastward bound.

High status, they had fought for but -

their efforts now have ended.
They said that I offended them.
I wished that they had listened.

They elbowed all their way through life -

for more space in the air.

But tell me, was it worth it all?

What did it matter there?

Retired now, I think of things
for which I am not proud -
and all the selfish thoughts I had
since falling from that cloud.
I think of times I prayed to God

and thought He didn't listen.

But Christmas lights around the town,

across the snow, now glisten...

©2015 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Your Love 11-29-15

Frosted needles on the pine

in this, the greatest nation.

Oh, why God, did you bless us with

Your good and great creation?

Rainbow smiles on every race,

between their dimples, bends.

Oh, why God, did you bless us with

such good and priceless friends?

A cross on steeple's pinnacle,

now draws us from our search.

Oh, why God, did you bless us with

Your Son's eternal church?

---

So why, God, do you bless me so

when I'm so blindly swerving -

on and off your 'narrow road',

when I'm so undeserving?

I fall down on arthritic knees.

I bow my weary head.

I used to focus on my wants,

but now I'm Yours instead.

From frosted needles, rainbow smiles

to cross that stands above,

I know now why You've blessed me so.

May others find Your love.

©2015 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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When Fighting Hate 11-24-15

Picture from: https://chazzw.wordpress.com/2012/03/17/the-missing-of-the-somme-geoff-dyer/

It matters much

when two hearts touch,

yet war has its demand.

When fighting hate,

my flag is great,

but some don't understand.

Now it's a shame

some played their games

while we were undermanned.
Through heat and cold,

we all were bold,

but some don't understand.

While taking flak,

I watched his back.

We fought them man to man.

It happened fast,

that deadly blast,

but some don't understand.

With comrade dead,

sad tears I shed.

It's not what we had planned.

It makes no sense,

my guilt's immense,

but some don't understand.

Arriving home

with war syndrome,

experienced firsthand.

It all seems wrong

with heroes gone,

but some don't understand.

I'll make it though,

disfigured so.

This is my wonderland.

It's God I need,

I do indeed,

but some don't understand.

It matters much

when two hearts touch,

but war has its demand.

When fighting hate,

our cause is great.

Still, some don't understand.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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On Winds Of Time 11-22-15

The beauty of that place was such

that I just hadn't mattered much.

Except for me, the trees were bright

with vibrant leaves.  Oh, what a sight!

The crowds would mingle and would rest

among the brightest and the best

where thoughts and dreams together meld

in beauty so unparalleled.

Those autumn trees would grin and shout,

"Hey, look at us.  Come check us out.

We've colored leaves for you to see."

And so it was for ev'ry tree -

except for me with branches bare.

I didn't brag.  I didn't dare -

for people laughed - and newlyweds

just rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

A boy yanked off my one last leaf,

then ran away - that little thief!

So there I stood, ignored, alone.

I was a poet tree, unknown.

Exposing all my worthless whims,

the breezes weaved around my limbs.

The days were long and getting cold.

I knew that I was growing old.

A gentleman came strolling by

who paused a bit.  I don't know why.

He was a man, quite elderly

who found an old leaf under me.

He picked it up and for a while,

I thought I saw a little smile.

He contemplated for a time

and then reread my dead leaf rhyme.

I'm not a poet tree, they say

so yes, my poems blow away.

But high in humble love they sail -

across the plains and over vale,

over seas and over shores,

before they rest near Heaven's doors.

They're found by men of humble heart
whose souls are touched and set apart.

Let colored leaves not camouflage
those covered trees that sabotage
the perfect rhymes of poet's love
which blow as snow from God above.

God's love is oftentimes disguised

from people who are mesmerized

by pretty leaves that promise bliss

and worlds of joy and happiness.

But seasons come and seasons go
as brooks and streams and rivers flow.
They never stop.  They never end.
If only man could comprehend.

For sailing from the empty trees

are tears of love inside the leaves.

So leaves as these are worth the rhyme

and fly along on winds of time.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Cuckoo Clock 11-15-15

The time is almost 3 AM.

but I don't really care -

except the ticking of the clock

is more than I can bear.

The pendulum swings back and forth.

It doesn't ever sleep.

And neither have I had a wink,

(though I have counted sheep).

The tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick

is all it ever does.

A cuckoo clock is all it is

and all it ever was.

It can't jump off the wall and run.

That little bird can't fly.

She hasn't helped a single soul.

She's not as good as I.

So should I take her insults too?

She makes my stomach sour.

She says that I am cuckoo ev'ry

hour on the hour...

A burst of great emotions come

whenever she pops out -

and tells me I am cuckoo 'till

it makes me want to shout.

But then she quickly sneaks back in

and shuts her little door.

If only she could stay in there,

and not pop out at 4.

Her strong opinion does not change

and I know it won't end -

but I'll forgive that little bird.

She really is my friend.

And so I pull the weights back up

to give her one more day

to tell me I am cuckoo, 'cause -

that's all that she can say.

The time is almost 4 AM.

but I don't really care -

except the ticking of the clock

is more than I can bear.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Doug, the Bug 11-8-15

"If I could elevate myself

and look down from the sky,

then I could see the facts of life

and learn of truth and lie."

Now that's what Doug, the Bug had thought.

He therefore went afoot -

t'ward great gigantic tree atop

its long and bulging root.

Then finally he started up.

That trunk had massive girth.

It seemed to be as solid as

the ground upon the earth.

He climbed the largest limb he found

and then the highest branch.

It all seemed very sturdy there.

It overlooked a ranch.

Back up, Doug glanced - and then he spied

the highest leaf of all!

And so he climbed some tiny twigs

which seemed quite weak and small.

"I'm almost there," he told himself,

"I'll rest on highest leaf."

At last that bug stood right on top

his firmly held belief.

Now Doug gripped tight, that little leaf

that he, himself, had earned.

And though he thought he knew it all,

one lesson hadn't learned.

You know, the truth is not always

the things that we can see.

Invisible, those autumn winds

had yanked that leaf from tree.

So Doug, the Bug was on his own.

He feared for his own soul -
and he was at the mercy of

that wicked wind's control.

He soared there on that wayward leaf

to places yet unknown -

then settled on a foreign ground

where he was all alone.

All winter he, in circles walked

and aimlessly did roam.
He shed such long repentant tears
but couldn't find his home.

He ran and cried and cried and ran -

then fell flat on his face.

Then God reached down and picked him up.

And that's what we call grace.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Seven Words 11-1-15

(based on a true story)

Her son stepped to the pulpit with

some papers in his hand.

He cleared his throat and thought a bit,

but would they understand?

Would they know who mom really was?

Would they know they had fun?

Would they know mom loved God and prayed?

Would they know all she'd done?

Would they know she was always poor,

her pain and all her crying?

Would they know she helped little ones

with smiles and hugs while dying?

He laid, then, all the papers down

and peered up into Heaven.

Inside his mind he edited

his words right down to seven.

Would seven words explain it all

and would those words prevail -

there in each heart describing mom

in intimate detail?

Now friends and fam'ly waited for

her son with eager ears -

as he concluded all his thoughts

while holding back his tears.

He took a breath and slowly spoke

until his talk was done.

"Ev'ryone loved mom, because,

[my] mom loved ev'ryone."

He noticed many sparkles flash,

in each and ev'ry eye.

He gazed down at the casket then -

and said his last goodbye.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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God knows all corners of our minds.

He knows our subtle ways.

He knows the number of our hairs,

deceptions of our days.

But love connects both God and man -

the greatest and the last -

and son knew he would see her soon,

for time on earth flies fast.
©2015 louis gander

Meet My Friend, 'Love' 10-26-15

Hello there!  Meet my friend, 'Love'.

Inside my heart, He lives.

My other friends reside there too,

but my friend 'Love' forgives.

I have not done much for my 'Love' -

as my life was a mess.

And I remember my mistakes.

He loves me nonetheless.

'Love' does not tally up mistakes

that I have made before -

but 'Love' pours grace on all the more

and does not keep a score.

Ashamed, I am, when I think back

and wish I could divert

my thoughts and acts of selfishness

and all who I have hurt.

I often cry when I remember

all of my mistakes,

but 'Love' absorbs my pain and guilt

and does whate'er it takes.

'Love' can't reside in angry hearts

that it finds hard and cold,

but rather in the humble heart,

now whether young or old.

Atrocities of sinful man

just guts my inner soul -

but 'Love' is great and 'Love' is good

and 'Love' is in control.

Though 'Love' allows imperfect man

to make a sinful choice,

He cleared a path of perfect peace

so we can all rejoice.

Words can't express the joy I feel

and all I'm thinking of -

for God's the great creator and

He is the God of 'Love'.

I'm pleased that you have met my 'Love'.
Does 'Love' reside in you?
If you love others as yourself
then 'Love' is your friend too.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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1 John 4:8 (NASB)

8 The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.

Mark 12:30-31 (NASB)

30 and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,

and with all your soul,

and with all your mind,

and with all your strength.’

31 The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’

There is no other commandment greater than these.”

To Gardens Yet Unknown 10-20-15

Beneath the calm and quiet sky

two butterflies go drifting by -

as yellow as the sun.

A wild flower bends a bit

as one has temporarily lit.

The other joins in fun.

Then off again they wing with task

but yet, so playfully I ask,

Are they that much in love?

They look to be, or so it seems,

alive inside their unique dreams

which float so high above.

It's if they taunt, it's if they tease

my little world of memories,

of our lives long ago.

Those treasured thoughts of yesteryear

still seem so recent, seem so near,

I'll never let them go.

Their presence here is so worthwhile

I find myself with pleasant smile,

though I sit all alone.

Then finally, they both take flight
to other places out of sight,
to gardens yet unknown.

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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How Beautiful! 10-15-15

How beautiful, the autumn day!

How beautiful, the trees!

How beautiful, the up-stretched limbs!

How beautiful, their leaves!

How beautiful, the sunlit skies!

How beautiful, the rays!

How beautiful, creation's peace!

How beautiful, the days!

So beautiful, the season's end

when I breathe my last breath.

Because, when I'm at Heaven's door,

how beautiful, earth's death!

You see, this earth was all I knew.

Earth died so I'd arrive

to dreams too unbelievable -

in Heaven's world, alive!

How beautiful when Winter's past!

How beautiful the Spring!

How beautiful the Angels are!

How beautiful they sing!

How beautiful my Jesus is!

How beautiful His face!

How beautiful His perfect love!

How beautiful His grace!

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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Great Democratic Debate, The 10-13-15

With crowd, ecstatic, you might think

that truth might finally win.

But no, deceptions lingered on

in shallow, selfish din.

The candidates deceive us all.

Pet projects, each discusses.

They came to this, the 'Great Debate'

in jets and campaign buses.

The smiles they wore were painted on.

So sly, those hungry foxes.

And all of them were standing tall

on top of their soapboxes.

---

The 'stomach' growled greedily,

"Hey, I'll do much more taxing.

I'll gouge the ones who go to work

so you can be relaxing."

The 'hand' said, "I will snatch the purse

of ev'ry working man.

I'll give you fruits of their hard work.

Now do you understand?"

The 'tongue' spoke up quite sharply then,

"You've heard me, one and all!

Benghazi, no, is not my fault -

because I don't recall...

I fell down and hit my head

before that legal hearings.

I would've shown up if I hadn't

lost my fav'rite earings.

I'll tell that hearing anything -

and lie, for goodness sake -

Who cares about ambassadors?

What difference does it make?

We need a woman president!

We need a leader NOW!

We need to have a first "first man"

I need you to allow...

me to be a president.  Because I've always wanted

to be since smoking pot in college with Bill..

And I don't care if this rhymes or not

because I JUST WANT TO BE PRESIDENT!!

(The moderator covered this

with manufactured cough.

And when the viewers had enough

they turned their TVs off.)

We do not need a woman.

transvestite, or a man.

We do not need a socialist

but someone true who can.

We don't need someone 'statesman-like'

but rather someone real.

If not, we'll some day be blown up

by bad atomic deal.

Now even if we save the whales

and stop all soil erosion -

global warming we will get

with nuclear explosion.

Yes, 'presidential' they may look

and 'presidential' sound -

but what they do is critical

for answers to be found.

The Constitution has them all -

so maybe we should look.

Love country this time.  Let us not

elect another crook.

The last one you had voted in,

in EV'RY aspect failed -

then violated sev'ral laws!

So why is he not jailed?

Now here's another "great" debate.

With empty words, each shares...

What diff'rence does it really make?

It tells me this:  Who cares?

©2015 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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