Talk Radio

What can you say? Plenty, actually, if you are a political junkie, which I am not, although I keep up with the situation in Washington and around the world as best I can. I am not learned in the intricacies of political skulduggery, although I am better now that I used to be. Thanks in large part to the cablevision talking head shows. But the real masters of reliable information as far as I am concerned is talk radio. And when you say talk radio you are saying Rush Limbaugh. There are others, yes, and there are other good talk show hosts, Glen is one, Shawn another, are a couple who are good and can articulate what I want to hear, and there are others as well. But they are not Rush, Here is a man who has not wavered in his beliefs for the twenty plus years he has been on the radio. I have been listening to him almost as long as he has been on.

The conservative radio commentators have been ridiculed, misquoted, out and out lied about and have had awful things said about them, but they keep on gaining ground in the hearts and minds of the average guys and gals across America. The reason? They speak our language. They say on the air what we have been whispering about for years. Now we have a leader. We have many leaders, but Rush is in a class all by himself. He very seldom makes a mistake on air because his research team vets everything. Every so often something slips by and if it does Rush is there immediately to tell his listeners he made a boo-boo.

Rush has a lot of detractors. They say he is a clown. They say he is merely showbiz. They say he is irresponsible. They take his words and change them around to make it look and sound like he has said something wrong. The only thing is, for anyone who has listened to the man for any length of time with an open mind, knows that they lie about him. He has transcripts of everything he says and proves over and over again how the powers that be are trying to silence him. Unlike the left-leaning talk shows, of which there are a few, actually say anything and expect people to believe them.

I know without a doubt that America is in deep, deep trouble. We have a man in the White House who seems to want to destroy our monetary system, put as many people as possible on the dole, expecting the federal government to take care of them from "cradle to grave." It has been a long time in coming, and it began with Franklin D. Roosevelt, but since then the democrats and a few republicans have steadily enhanced the poverty level and with stupid rules which allow whole families to survive on welfare for many decades without once asking them to find work to try and support themselves. Why? Power. The more people with their hands out toward the federal government the more indebted they are and therefore will vote for whoever says they will give them the most.

Something has to happen to change this dependency on the federal government.

My Doppelganger and I

I ponder the rain as I sit here, trying to get my mind in gear,

As I ponder I hear the drip, drop, of the rain on the rooftop,

The skies so gray you cannot tell, when day is gone and night has fell,

I await the stroke of midnight, when my doppelganger comes in sight,

The hours leading up to twelve, gives me time for my mind to dwell,

I wait for him to show me the rhyme, as I have done so many times,

Like a drunkard waits for his wine, I drink his words like they were mine,

Come, come, you ghostly midnight hour, I care not if you bring showers.

This is the price I have to pay, for finishing my book today,

I have used up all of my words, and sit here like some doofus nerd,

I should sit back on my laurels, not worry about words to borrow,

Within my mind whispers speak out, you must write that's what you're about,

The whispers disturb my solitude, besides that they're so very rude,

But yes, oh yes, I need to write, writing is my life, it's my plight,

In search of that one special tome, inside of my mind's catacombs,

To spend a day and not compose, is like a blind man without clothes.

So here I am awaiting fate, for at midnight I have a date,

My scattered alphabet to repair, reach up, pluck good words from the air,

Unscramble my confetti brain, oh please, oh please, don't be my bane,

Doppelganger bring word bouquets, accept my gratitude I pray,

Last time I said that was the last, I'd ask not again your words to pass,

It's different now, I'm truly stumped, just one more time give me a jump,

I am not like the poet Poe, I just can't get my words to flow,

The clock chimed twelve the time is here, what to do if you don't appear?

©February 12, 2010 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Life's Sonnet #2

The fall season is sad to me,
No joy found in the cooling breeze,
Leaves fall to ground give me no glee.
I think of love's many degrees.

A young love that blooms in the spring,
Grows and thrives in summertime sun,
Everything perfect for queen and king,
But autumn find love almost done.

All that's left is winter's cold chill,
To shatter love's bough to the quick.
Leaving lovers to pay the bill,
And dismantle love brick by brick.

Spring awaits the fair maiden's thoughts,
Will love return or will it naught.
 

©September 26, 2009 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Life's Sonnet #1

Life's Sonnet #1


My heart tells me no, look back to the past,
I calm my heart with tenderness and care,
And say there is a future unsurpassed,
If we but reach for it, it will be there.

My foresight and reality are one,
I cannot divide them in two, you see;
They help me as I look toward the sun,
Foresight, reality and me are three.

This inner struggle has cost us a lot,
The pursuit of the beyond scares us both,
Still, it's not too late a dream to be sought,
A paltry weed needs the sun for its growth.

We wake up and look for the morning light,
From it we ascend to infinite heights.

©September 25, 2009 / Jerry Pat Bolton

Know the TRUTH about the Government Health Care Bill H.R.320

My Mother's Revenge

Click HERE To Purchase 

Kathy Albertini is a tortured soul. Only offspring of the notorious Dixie Mafia Don Angelo Albertini, she has spent years trying to distance herself from the "Family." She seems to have succeeded, at least outwardly. She has a job she likes at The Times-Picayune in New Orleans where she is accepted for who she is and not where she came from.
But Kathy has problems dealing with the past. The long, painful and torturous death of her mother dished out to her by her father for a sin he cannot forgive lays heavy on Kathy's mind. She feels some guilt because until her father sent her away to expensive private schools she completely eradicated her mother from her mind. But the memory of what she saw the day her father brought her home and what happened afterward lays heavy on her mind and she has gone out of her way to dress and act as different as possible as her mother, never wanting anyone to say, "Like mother like daughter."
This includes her sexual partners in what are basically weekend orgies. She takes multiple partners in a desperate and foolhardy attempt to still distance herself from her mother. Her life is split into. She has her job. She likes her job. She had her debauchery weekends. She does not like them, but does not know how to make them stop. In walks John, the paper's new cub reporter and sweeps her off her feet. Kathy is in love completely, something she just knew would never happen; now life is perfect. Her love for John begins to erase her other problems. She doesn't have the nightmares anymore. She doesn't have multiple partners. She is deliriously happy. Until the day she realizes she has a stalker. Not merely a stalker, but a man who is determined to destroy Angelo Albertini for crimes he believes he commented against his own mother. Soon Kathy finds herself on a houseboat in the middle of a swamp and at the mercy of this deranged,

Crow - Villanelle

rainy dreary day
  two crows sit on the mantle
rain drips, poet writes