The southern border
She is volatile
we need a wall you say
to keep us safe
and prosperous
at least that’s what you say

A barrier
keeping bad people out
a viable threat you say
They are dangerous
violent criminals
at least that’s what you say

An emergency
our freedom is at risk
You’ve been warned you say
Terror’s comes
to our own soil
at least that’s what you say

They’re taking over
Forcing change
We must act now you say
Lack of support
is to forsake our own
at least that’s what you say

I’ll get what I want
I can’t be swayed
No matter what you say
I’ll veto
You’ll thank me
at least that’s what you say

Your poor, your tired
Your destitute
Words we’ve never heard you say
We don’t need them
They are losers
At least that’s what you say

I have statistics
They are all fake news
don’t listen to what they say
This will make America
be great once again
At least that’s what you say

There is but one constant
One truth
In all the things you say
It’s time to learn
To be responsible and accountable
For all the things you say

Ty Cobb is a member
you made him your face 
He assaulted the disabled 
and gauged others by race

Ignoring “periferals”
you opened your door 
while shutting out others 
expecting much more

An angel in the outfield
a prince to the fans
Are we judging an athlete 
or examining a man?

Ball doctoring was outlawed 
but you grandfathered abusers 
Now crying “level playing field” 
when we talk steroid users

Decrees based on a substance 
That had yet to be banned
Instead of on home runs
Steals or batters they fanned

The games always changing 
and new standards are found 
to adjust for pitch counts
or how the balls wound

Am I pleased the games tainted? 
no, I think this fact all will bemoan 
but the games and plays happened 
with or without growth hormones

We don’t “retrospect” bad calls
like the perfect game for Galarraga 
so why pretend away
the fruits of this saga

But one guy named Mitchell
comes out with a list
Names are dragged through the mud Accomplishments dismissed

Innocent til proven guilty
is the American way
Where no failure exists
facts only should come into play

Judge, jury, executioner 
Now you make yourself God
and expect every January 
for us to stand and applaud

Though changing physique and longevity 
are hard to deny
a grand jury failed in proving
that these players have lied

I won’t try to argue
omissions like ARod or Manny 
as the smoking gun pee test 
leaves us little as plan b

You can put in your asterisk 
But Bonds IS home run king
Guys won their Cy Young’s, MVPs
And World Series rings

PED offenders aren’t alone
falling through the balloting sieve 
As others deemed guilty
have their own narrative

The a case for some Black Sox 
and even Pete Rose
The player, not manager
and guys like Weaver and Joe

Claims of tossed games and bribes 
would be truly abhorrent
If the stat sheets had anything
to give these accusations warrant

The Rose betting on games
should be persona non grata
but the all time hits leader
thats hall worthy data

So put in the catcher
and leave out Chick Gandil
you’re writers…telling THIS story 
makes you less of a vandal

Not everyone’s Griffey or Ripkin 
Now Mariano and soon Jeter
but the halls a glass house
the way it’s determining cheaters

You erase the fans history 
the card traders story
of who’s the most valuable 
and who defines glory

These men brought the game back
after the strike caused decline
you KNEW…but you loved it
And now force them to sit on the pine

I know my opinion may not match 
those of the association
but perhaps some of you holdouts 
take these words into consideration

I try to teach my kids civility
I aim to instill respect
As you stand upon your soapbox
Doing the very things I ask them to reject

The name calling, the mockery
the disregard for people’s lots
The lack of compassion and empathy
for the things most people fight for- that you bought

The lies, misleadings, and backtracks
the disproven “no I didn’ts”
A child in a chair and not a thrown
Immune to things like evidence

Whims for approval turned promises
Drawing lines within the sand
It seems it’s more about winning
Than for that for which you stand

Both sides telling stories
Versions of truth their only bond
But we’ve grown tired of being treated
as lemmings, sheep, or pawns

You push, you prod, you bully
but to ‘serves’ not in your nature
It’s not politicing but your very actions
That go against the presidential nomenclature

“How much blood” is how you sell your people
on a wall to protect the border
While daily mass shootings by citizens
don’t sway you on gun control reform from your NRA donor’s orders

Praying on fear and on weakness
Xenophobia’s your zen
Our nation of immigrants now vilifying
asylum seekers and aliens

Taking his ball when he can’t have his wall
Leaving no room to negotiate
How can we expect progress
With the elected refusing to participate

Your way or the highway
disagreement means dissension
And all the while teaching
to attack with cruel intension

Our reality turned reality show
Campaigned threats seeming scripted or phantom
But the series plays out before us
with every tweet and every tantrum

Is confusion what you seek
Or is this show purely propaganda
Each decision that you forge
For you own personal bonanza
(But you lack the historical knowledge…and charisma
of Lin Manuel Miranda)

Half way through or perhaps a quarter
May your legacy be not pure stain
Be it through frustration or distrust
The distain has caused a change

A palpable shift of those typically silent
a democratic squall
Some running to steal the dusty seats
While throngs now protest standing tall

Innocence lost – what have we done?
Our children’s first act to revile
Like the epiphanies of Scrooge or the Grinch
There’s still time to right the ship and reach across the aisle

Not party first, but future first
we can once again be great
But to find that hidden path once more
Starts with putting aside the hate.

So I will teach my children
Hate is ignorant, love’s a mission
Standing up for your beliefs
Should never mean not listening

Madison, Mason, Hamilton,
I have a question
About this amendment to the Constitution.
There seems to be confusion,
about it’s inclusion.
Let there be no illusion
today’s policy is a delusion
of its purpose, its intention;
A justification
that illustrates collusion.
Please clarify the motivation
of these words in need of a transfusion;
a reminder that they are
for the people,
by the people,
so why then are the people
dying in a frequency that we’ve never seen?
Shattering a families dream
of the things that could have been;
if not for this “misunderstood” teen
(more accurately defined a fiend).
And we are left with the task to glean
would these word ‘er be written if to mean
your musket would become an AR-15?
So we watch as society careens
debating if this piece of property outweighs
our right to life,
our right to liberty,
our pursuit of the right of happiness.
The faces of this movement wet and scared.
Their ears brim with offers of thoughts and prayers.
The journey of the survivor is filled with stares
of those who, to your face, profess that they care.
Until a time or place would dare
their truest heart to be laid bare;
in reaction to this evil slayer
and forced to show their inner player.
Hiding behind opinions they claim are layered
as party lines draw a democracy in need of repair.
Answers are shouted but rarely heard:
Trust the NRA!
Trust the PTA!
No, trust the eyes of the child looking up to you!
The sadness and anger of our sons and our daughters,
sent to school, concert, club-not sent to slaughter.

Their lives not meant as political fodder
in the blue and red chambers teeter totter.
Each tragedy creating another pot stirred
where officials feel the fire beneath growing hotter.
If you don’t make a change, you’re no better than the plotter…
so your vote has been sought ma’am, unless you’ve been bought sir.
Who’s interests are you fighting for when
money talks,
the media talks,
but there is no straight talk and no one is listening.
Words spoken over one another leave no room for debate.
Deaf and inert to the pleas of the irate
with needed assurance our world is not lost to hate.
Add 17 taken and again we’re too late,
Now more than ever we can’t sit and wait.
Paralyzed by a law that we must antiquate;
re-amend our outlook- refuse to accept this as fate.
It’s time to prioritize the right to protect, not mutilate.
We promise not to succumb or be forced
into the darkness,
into the despair,
into the shadows by the elected.
This cannot be the intent of the papers you wrote
and yet your words are the excuse based in bastardized quotes.
Founding fathers find themselves becoming scapegoats,
whilst today’s politicians seem no better than colonial red coats.
Our current state reduced to anecdote
and the victims sadly a postscript, a side note.
The one thing that keeps our spirits afloat
is the minute these children grow up and can vote,
today’s abusers will lose their seat and their agenda to promote.
And this new generation can state
I have a dream,
I have a voice,
but you’ve had an instant, an event, taking it all away.
The reaction, like the gun, is semi-automatic.
A self fulfilling prophecy grown from the pragmatic
responses that are static ‘stead of trying other tactics.
Let’s come together with ideas-turn a light on in the attic.
Basing policy in common sense is somehow enigmatic
to those upon the pedestal who are purely bureaucratic.
Special interest groups feeding lawmakers like they’re addicts
as We the People sit by in a growing sense of panic.
All sides having a measurement for success
in rounds per second,
in lives per second,
So stop pleading the second and look around.
Most of these murderers were seeking fame or a thrill.
Yet we continue to blame the mentally ill,

as if the problem of guns disappears with the prescription of pills.
Without a capable weapon there’s less opportunity to kill,
and yet there’s dissension about creating a bill
that makes obtaining guns harder, requiring training, or skill.
Was this what you pictured when you inked up your quill?
Fear not. There’s a new revolution- we’ve had our fill.
It’s time to rise up- bring our words, and storm Capitol Hill.