Wednesday, October 07, 2009

Intelligent Design

Intelligent Design
Copyright Thomas Newton, 2009

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Monday, May 08, 2006

Towers of Light


I feel that if a war came to threaten this, I would like to throw myself
into space, over the city, and protect these buildings with my body.
--Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

The thousand dollar xenon lights all sat
There waiting for the orphaned twelve-year-old
Girl to begin the ceremony that
Her murdered parent lingers to behold.
The switch is thrown by Valerie--her right.
The phantom towers rise, the symbol of
Our Love, the world’s most brilliant shafts of light,
Like spirits, try to touch the stars above.
The worst attack in years on our land
Has murdered them all. We are their begotten
Children here at this ceremony and
Three thousand souls will never be forgotten,
The office workers, firemen, and police.
Three thousand souls will never rest in peace!

Friday, April 21, 2006

Si Se Puede!


In 1960, people of European ancestry were one-fourth of the
world’s population; in 2000, they were one-sixth; in 2050,
they well be one-tenth. These are the statistics of a vanishing
race. --The Death of the West, Patrick J. Buchanan

Her kind was destined to supplant the ancient
dying race. --The Clan of the Cave Bear, Jean M. Auel

She is just one of half-a-million people
Marching along Ross Avenue toward City
Hall from the hundred-year-old, rare cathedral
Beside the modern ambiguity.
Our Western culture can’t sustain this level
Of entropy, and increase population.
The modern building will become a hovel,
The symbol of a dead civilization.
Her sun glasses reflect the Dallas sun
And her black, shoulder-length, straight hair dispels
The gentle breeze. Her white, tight clothes exude
Her primal nature to reproduce well.
The past is called “Inteligencia.”
Her poster states, “We Are America!”

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

He has trouble sleeping, and when he does, his fingers twitch
on invisible triggers. --“The War Within,” Matthew Stannard

This was our first night out, a chance to be
Alone. She smiled across the dinner table
And touched my hand. The waiter winked at me.
I squeezed her hand and said, “I love you Crystal.”
Just then I saw the hand grenade roll past.
I dove and hugged it to my chest and waited,
Waited and waited, waited for the blast
To tear my body, as its force is blunted.
"Say Mister, can I have my apple, please?”
The girl implored. I moved my overlapping
Arms--saw the apple. I saw horror freeze
On Crystal’s face. A brave Marine stood clapping.
I couldn’t figure out what I was hearing.
The whole sedate, expensive place was cheering!

Dedicated to James Miller, "The Marlboro Man of Fallujah"

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Hurricane Charlie


"This is Seminole County ARES/RACES* net control. Your
tactical control sign is 'Winter Springs High School.' "

Evacuees from Tampa Bay are clogging
The highway leading to Orlando, far
Away from Hurricane Charlie’s flogging.
The medical and law enforcement and
The Red Cross workers man the sturdy school.
The ARES/RACES operators stand
Ready--a great communications tool.
The storm was moving north, but turned away--
Directly for Orlando! It was too
Late to retreat to Tampa Bay, so they
Were caught where hundred-mile-an-hour winds blew.
Who could have forecasted a course so odd,
Or who can ever know the mind of God?

* Amateur Radio Emergency Service/Radio Amateur Civil Emergency Service

End of the Leadership Vacuum


You are stuck on stupid. I’m not going to answer that question.
--Gen. Honore, Commander of Task Force Katrina

The category five hurricane, Katrina
Is heading straight for New Orleans. Just borrow
The same old place, the Superdome arena.
Then what? I’ll think about that plan tomorrow.
We can’t let George control the evacuation
Of New Orleans--that’s Martial Law! Well then
Call up the State troops. Now the situation
Isn’t really catastrophic yet. Well when?
We volunteered to rescue victims not
Attend Political Awareness Class
In Georgia. FEMA fiddles, bodies rot
In New Orleans, and looters get a pass!
The Army takes command--a new context.
The Press is shocked! "You’re stuck on stupid." Next!

Environmentalists Gut the U. S. Space Program


The tragedy of the Challenger was that seven living representatives of the pioneer
tradition were smashed to earth by political cowardice and legal arrogance that
destroyed the spaceship Challenger in the name of "Spaceship Earth." --Michael J. Bennett,
The Presidential Commission on the Space Shuttle Challenger Accident Report, Vol 4, Page 65

"If it‘s not broke, don‘t fix it!" engineers
Proclaim. Just do your job and don’t protest.
We need asbestos putty’s sealing strength
For heat. It’s gone so use the second best.
This foam’s disastrous," they said. "Don’t use it."
New freon-less inferior tank foam
Will shed eleven times as much and hit
The tiles. Columbia’s not coming home.
After a billion dollars and two years,
Discovery expels its smoke and heat.
The freon-less foam falling raises fears.
We have to ground the failing shuttle fleet!
The Moon and on to Mars, a noble quest
That shouldn’t have to suffer second best.

The Rise of the Information Age

The Rise of the Information Age

The sinusoidal wave, like visions of
Venus de Milo’s shoulder, hips, and breast;
The soul of nuance and the gift of love;
The Music of the Spheres and soothing rest;
Is digitized by binary encoding.
The basic ones and zeroes store sublime
Artistic works for future use. Downloading
And printing takes so vary little time.
The perfect digital-to-analog
Conversion is repeatable. It never
Degrades with noise or the postmodern fog.
The Master can be reproduced forever.
Thus regions where the digital have trod
Acquire the immortality of God.

The New Renaissance

The New Renaissance

Just as the Renaissance was fueled by
The printing press, the Internet has sounded
A call for crafted poetry--a cry
For quality that has the crude confounded.
The plasma screen’s soft glow directs the Quest
For human creative ability.
The Classics that endure to feed the best
Of thoughts, emotions, true nobility,
Accomplishments, intelligence, true love,
Style, creativity, taste, chastity,
Wit, wanderlust, artistic beauty of
The metrical line, serendipity . . .
As Internet fed quality pervades,
The mindless Modern Movement’s darkness fades.

I am a Poet


You can not be a poet.
Do you write free verse? No.
I knew that I could show it.

Have you come out of the closet
Like Marilyn Hacker and Millay? No.
You can not be a poet.

Are you gay and proud of it
Like Ginsberg and Whitman? No.
I knew that I could show it.

Do you smoke pot and inhale it?
Are you a drug addict or an alcoholic? No.
You can not be a poet.

Are you suicidal and love to flaunt it?
Have you been married more than once? No.
I knew that I could show it.

Do you hate war and protest it?
Do you swear that you are an atheist? No.
You can not be a poet.
I knew that I could show it.

Note: I am a conservative poet.

Dedicated to the Modern Poetry Association, the Academy of American Poets,
the Poetry Society of America, the National Endowment for the Arts,
the Lambda Literary Award, the National Book Award, the Pulitzer Prize,
The Guggenheim Foundation, the Ingram Merrill Foundation, New York
University, Columbia University, and Vassar. (not hardly!)

A Self-Portrait at Age 60


The stone was cut out of the mountain without hands. -- Daniel 2:45

You have the Pulitzer and Nobel Prizes,
Prestigious endowment and foundation
Publicity and precious grant surprises;
And little magazines across the nation.
You have the Ivy League expensive schools,
The long tradition, tenured teachers, proud
Alumni, newspaper reporting pools,
And The exclusive New York City crowd.
But where is your great poetry? You have failed.
You judged the poet not the poetry,
The prestige not the product. When I hailed,
My language was unknown. You failed to know me!
Did I waste all my free time when I tried?
Have all the connoisseurs retired or died?

The Gauntlet


I could not love thee, dear, so much, / Lov’d I not Honour More.
-- "To Lucasta. Going to the Warres," Richard Lovelace (1618 - 1657)

The gauntlet was thrown down in London days
Before the war – an insult to the troops,
The nation, and the President. It lays
There on the field of Honour. Someone swoops
The gauntlet up and shares it with old friends.
Each person must decide the weapons they
Will choose. There’s letter writing, phoning tends
To work, boycotting’s another way.
But no one wants a battle. Surely some
Mistake was made. A true apology
Was surely made for some remark that was dumb.
There’s free speech in this country of the free.
He also serves who only stands and holds
A red and white, large-lettered sign that scolds.

Note: The sign says, "I am ashamed the Dixie Chicks are from Texas."

The Democratic Unity Dinner


A fellow Vietnam war Veteran
Who joined to fight for God and Country. He
Was brave and strong, a true American,
Who fought so that the Homeland could be free.
The leading Democrats all are praising their
New found war hero. Finally the cheers
For what we did and suffered fill the air,
Though over due by years and years and years.
I am so proud to see the unity
Of Democrats all standing, smiling, hands
Clasped, raised above their heads, to shouts of glee,
Ignoring past political demands.
There mantra used to be, "Make Love, Not War."
Now Kerry’s praised by Clinton, Carter, Gore….


The Moral Compass


Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth
upon this continent a new nation: conceived in Liberty,
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
--The Gettysburg Address, Abraham Lincoln

The Founding Fathers showed the way and built
Our sturdy ships to last through all of time.
Each has a moral compass showing guilt
And innocence, thus exposing crime.
The Western Canon’s smoke is drifting past
Their sleazy, sinking, ships—all lost upon
The sea, steered by a crass iconoclast.
All sense about the proper course is gone.
They’re easy targets sailing randomly
In the postmodern fog, colliding, firing
In any direction, so mindlessly
Destroying everything that’s worth admiring.
Straight is our course. Though we suffer and die,
"For God and country" is out battle cry.

The Rise of the Anti-Poets


The horror! The horror!--the last words of Kurtz,
from The Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad

They wrote of dead old women, poverty,
A squirrel’s guts, the common place, the fluff,
The nicey nice, the weird, the poetry
Of how to write the poetry, crude stuff,
The minor happenings of daily life,
The boring thoughts of friends and relatives,
The hate and spite between the man and wife,
And all those special impact adjectives.
These didn’t rise from Michael Angelo,
Or Ingress, or da Vinci, or the Greeks
Equating Truth with Beauty, or Thoreau
At Walden Pond writing for days and weeks.
The poems of perversion, ugliness,
And death--the death of greatness. What a mess!

The Donkey and the Elephant


Evidently, Gray Davis missed the irony of his association with Clinton and Jackson,
both caught in notorious sex scandals, even as he condemned Schwartzenegger.
--Albert Mohler, President of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary,
“Character in Leadership: Does it Really Matter Anymore?”

He hears Gray Davis condemn Arnold’s past
Of groping women. Nancy Pelosi,
Bill Clinton, Jackson, Feinstein, Brown--a vast
Array of famous Democrats agree.
He hears a Voice say “You are being used.”
There’s something wrong. His brain can’t find the flaw.
His logic fails. His thoughts become confused.
Flashback: A rally back in Arkansas.
The anti-war, American flag burning,
Pot smoking, disrespectful, bottle smashing,
Hate-your-own country, feminist, Bush bashing,
Gun control, pro-choice, right-wing Christian trashing,
So patriotic, powerful he-man,
Flag waving, cheering, General Clark fan.


There are times in American history when it becomes necessary for the “silent majority”
to speak out. Now is one of those times. --Bobby Eberle, President and CEO of GOPUSA

I came a little early to commune
With other patriots before the fans
Arrived. I was alone, but they’d come soon
To help me sass the traitors, share my plans.
The fifteen thousand fans filed past my sign
Of protest. Most ignored it. Five young girls
With cowboy hats and cameras entwine
Themselves around me. They’re all smiles and curls.
They thank me for the photo op and rush
Away. The news crews have their interviews
And stories. No one is outside. A hush
Pervades. “A Lone Protester” is the news.
On Honor’s field the gauntlets have been thrown,
And just ignored; and still I’m all alone!

Thomas Newton
Conservative Poet

Both Sides of the Road


Camp Reality

You are only pretend heroes in movies and on television. Come back
to the real White House, the real world, and the real heroes that are
fighting and dying so that you can have your spoiled brat “Tinseltown.”
--Thomas Newton, The Conservative Rebellion

This is Bush Country. Bethany is walking
On Prairie Chapel Road toward her chair
In Camp Reality. The kooks are talking
And yelling with a condescending air.
She is an army chaplain’s daughter. She
Supports the troops and President. They point
At Al Sharpton, Joan Baez, Martin Sheen
And Cindy Sheehan, (longing for a joint).
Come to the Real world, the real President,
The real true heroes fighting, dying for
The country that the Founding Fathers meant
To bless the people with for evermore.
And Casey Sheehan drops the truthful bomb,
“I am a hero not a victim, Mom.”


Someone said before I came back down here that we should
go down in a pasture near Bush’s ranch and thousands of people
would come and you ought to call it Turdstock, so let’s call it Turdstock.
--Cindy Sheehan, Camp Casey II

They’re singing, dancing, crying and parading
Their strong emotions--being so seductive
With loving photo ops, but they’re evading
Reality and being non-productive.
Make love not war. A white amorphous dove
Of peace pervades the lovely afternoon…
We’ll never, ever see the picture of
Another human walking on the Moon.
The wheel of civilization is slowing.
There are more people taking out than giving.
They built a giant welfare state that’s growing.
Too few of them are working for a living.
The leaches are all sucking down the Nation’s
Momentum from The Greatest Generation.

Dedicated to Bethany Berry, Crawford, Texas resident