The Free Meal

The ten men paddled their boat away from their Islamic State island. They were heading for Mimba, a small freedom-loving island, where they hoped to get food, clothing and houses. As they beached their boat on the white sands of Mimba in the late evening, they could hear the murmurs of life in the town beyond the hills. They lay down to sleep until morning, when they would march into town carrying the banner “Islamic Refugees” which they stuck in the sand.

While they slept they were spotted by a late night walker, who then turned and ran away.

In the morning the refugees woke and hoisted their banner and walked over the hills. They came to the town. There was no one there. Not a soul. The big beautiful buildings were empty. Also, there was not a bit of food anywhere, and no clothing. No one came to help them. After wailing a while they knelt down and prayed to Allah to hurl a curse on those they had counted on, who were traitors, who had left them to face life alone.

After a while one of the ten men stood up and said, “Let us go back to our homes. We will be slaves, but we will get one free meal a day!” Then they leapt into their boat and paddled away.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Not Thanks, But Praise

Not thanks, but praise,
Yea, praise to independence,
Praise on praise on praise
To men who drive with sense
Up their independent ways!

And songs, not prayers,
Yea, songs to honest seeing,
Singing, singing, singing,
To men whose joy of being
Is the measure of their days!

To all of us—for loving,
Yea, the best that is our own,
Our lives lived independent,
Integrity’s story shown!
Praise on praise on praise
For all our single lights
Illumining the trademarks
Of our individual heights!

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Refugee, Principle

There is no real problem with a refugee as long as one holds to the principle of non-initiation of force. First, if you know someone who is fleeing his country and coming to yours, you can choose to help him–financially, for a while, and/or help him to find a job. But no one has the right to force your help, nor do you have the right to force the help of others. Second, you do not have a duty to help others, refugees or otherwise. What you are free to do does not change because of massive numbers—a wave—of refugees. Every person’s choice to help, or not to help, is his own individual decision. It is only the state, acting as the voice of an altruistic body of citizens, which creates “the problem” of refugees. AS refugee does not have a special status. He may have lost his home and all his possessions, but so has the victim of a tornado. He may not have a country, but the fact that he left his country does not earn him a claim on anyone who has not left theirs.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

The Gangster

Islam is the gangster faith of Muslims including belief in Allah as its god and Muhammud as his prophet, and murder for the sake of murder.

An imam is a Muslim gang leader.

Kill the imams and you kill the head of the snake.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Life and Love

Life! What a wonderful thing!
To breathe and stand, to see and think!
To walk with lightness, run and act!
To lie on down and dream of the future!
Of things to be made, songs to be sung!
Loves to be loved!

He who would hate it and seek to destroy,
He’s dead already in mind denied,
A spiritual self-suicide!
Evil to self, evil to all,—
To all above his worm-like crawl!
ISIS his vice is—final!

Islam, mother of killers,
Mother of hate of life
Mother of self-denial,
Islam is head slams—
Death to the mind!
Islam loves hate!
Islam hates love!

Mohammud is mud,
Poisonous mud.
Moslems eat it
To slow down their blood.
To slow down their blood
And stifle their breath,—
Killed with the Koran
That kills with death.

Allah, the ghost,
Allah, the nil,
Gives them the nothing
They long for and kill.
Allah gives nothing,
For Allah is not,—
Just drool on the lips,
Mo-mud that is rot.

Allah, Koran, Mohammud—
These three most evil,
These three most ugly,
Stomp beneath your feet,
Stamp them out complete;
Eat no vile mud,
Love your living blood!

Love, what a fabulous thing!
To care for, nourish, kiss!
To hug and protect, enjoy!
To stand proudly in the present!
With all you’ve made and won!
Happy with all you love!

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Moslem Refugees

Who is to pay for their food and housing? Taxpayers.

How was this money gotten from taxpayers? Through threat of force for not paying taxes.

So, the government, which violated the individual rights of its citizens in taking their money is going to use that stolen money to put Moslem refugees on American property. Then what? More stolen money will be given them to keep on living, creating a bigger and bigger dependent class. This will lead to more crimes, more rapes, and more killings of American citizens, and evil Obama and his evil leftist goons will be maliciously happy.

Then all the people who are concerned about the rights of these refugees, though never standing up and fighting for their own rights first, and securing them first, will be smugly happy for being so selfless.

Oh, yes, some of these governors are sounding tough, asking for proper procedures and a slowing down of the processing of these Moslem refugees. But in the end, if they are allowed in at all, whether it’s ten weeks or ten months or two years from now, the result will be the same: thousands of Moslems who do not believe in freedom, but who do believe in killing and raping infidels, will be housed and fed by their stupid, altruistic victims.

That will be very bad for those of us who are not altruistic.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment


She was a mild-mannered Muslim. She came to my small store two or three times a week, wearing her burka. She was short and slender and her eyes smiled. Once, when no one else was around, she removed the burka as she praised the cleanliness of my store in a soft and meek tone of voice. She spoke so softly it would have been hard to hear, except that it was very clear English. She exposed serene, untroubled features, verging on beauty.

Yesterday, after closing, I strolled around the neighborhood. I saw her walking up ahead of me in her timid little steps a few houses away. She walked into a corner house, whether her own or that of a friend, I did not know. I turned at the corner and was passing that house’s backyard fence when I heard this low-volume, yet intensely fierce yelling: “Kill him! Kill the infidel! Kill the American! Kill the white man! Kill the Christian! Kill the Jew!” I stopped, in shock. Then peering through a crack in the wooden fence I saw two little boys, aged about 4 and 5, smiting with wooden swords a 3-foot high imitation statue of David, and another of George Washington. “Kill, kill, kill! Hate, hate, hate!” shouted the pleasant, smiling-eyed, meek little mother of evil.

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment