America is a perfect storm
Of every radical belief
Right now. 
It all festers and oozes.
I'm saddened by its course.
There is no man who can stop it.
No, not one.
It is fascism, yet communism.
It is anarchy, yet tyranny.
It is feudalism, yet objectivism.
It is religious bigotry, yet atheistic contempt.
It is feminism, yet misogyny.
It is greed, yet hate.
It is homosexuality, yet heteronormity.
It is divorce, yet it is domestic violence.
It is theft, yet it is murder.
It is riots, yet it is revolution.

I never understood the kings
Whom, like a toddler won't give
The toy back when asked.
Or, like a whore, will refuse
Sex, just to lord their lusty powers.
Or, like a bully, will beat the kids
Into submission on the playground.

I understand it only when reading
Literature, that adultery is more noble than marriage.
War is more noble than peace.
Power is more noble than cooperation.
That these virtues prevail,
While Alexander is more noble than Homer,
Julius Caesar more noble than Virgil.
How Ovid writes his stories,
Rapes the women of lower class,
And this is deemed a better world.

I've found peace far more interesting.
Sultry loves in a marriage.
Banquets, sharing, merrymaking.
Love, Joy and Peace are superior qualities than
Adultery, Conquering and Envy. 

The FBI is out of control.
The left are total hypocrites.

Hitler's art is lifeless.
He draws Mary and Jesus
But he does not believe in Mary or Jesus.
He just knows it's a popular motif.

He was a cold, artless mathematician
Drawing warm portraits of city streets;
Warm bodies of Mary tenderly holding Jesus.
Yet, there was no faith.

It was like he was a copycat,
Trying to be Charles Leickert
While trying to also paint stain glass
Or be Sassoferreto; and all would have been forgiven
If he simply had faith.

But, instead, like a mathematician,
His formulae were painted.

The Satrap of the Sardoodledom
Sat, calling all art Kitsch.
Save, it was writhing with fear, or sex
Or it idealized crime and perverts.

He, wisely? was called Athena,
And ruled his Sardoodledom
With an iron fist.
Nothing good could be made,
Save what was a Sardoodle
In his Sardoodledom.

There was a solar eclipse in 33ad.
It was only visible in South Africa,
And the furthest North it could be seen
Was the bottom tip of India.

There was another Solar Eclipse 
In 32ad, but it could only be seen
Near Antarctica.

There was another solar eclipse in 34ad
And a little sliver of it could be seen
On the Eastern Edge of China.
Just a little sliver.

There were no Eclipses in 31ad.

Given the timeframe and reference
Of the record of Guangwu,
What they recorded could not 
Have been a total eclipse
Or even partial eclipse.

As, the only eclipse near China on the month given,
Was in 34ad, and that only a small sliver
Of eclipse could be seen on the furthest
Edge of China's Eastern edge.
It does not comport with what the records say.

However, to a skeptic,
Your faith will have to be so dark
As to try and assume
This partial visibility
Was the actual date,
And somehow, you will
Have to discount the 
Announcement of the mages
That a man had died for the sins
Of the world, to give us pardoning,
And that a "Man from heaven died."
It would have to be a dark faithlessness indeed,
But, God likes to hide Himself,
So I have found your contention first.

Then, to complete your theory,
I speak foolishness,
Perhaps word of Christianity
Reached China in 34ad,
And seeing the sliver of an eclipse,
The two things were brought together.
I have lightened your eyes,
And increased your doubt.
I gave you hope,
Yet, you shall be utterly ashamed.

This cannot be it,
As it is too contrived an answer
For something which is so simple.
Christ died, He raised, He comes back again.

I am not a genius,
And that's okay.
I'm three points 
Short of it.
But, I found God richly
Blessed me with a score
Which I am satisfied with.
Any higher, and I'd be too smart;
Able to understand everything
At a moment's glance.
Any lower, and I'd not have a capacity
To understand anything I wanted.
I have a nice score,
Which lets me pleasantly struggle
With a concept for days
Sometimes months,
Until I finally get it,---
Working out the minutia,
Understanding it in ways
Which nobody has before.
I am satisfied with the IQ 
God gave me.
It is not where I feared it to be.

160 is Genius,
And I am three points short.
And I am okay with that.

The scent of a rose,
Unlike all other flowers,
Is a form bred from
Horticultured, white florets
Which smell like honeysuckle.

Oh, I love the Silent and Greatest generations.
But, Gen-Z, there's something about them you
Will never know. The old fashioned Stink Eye.
And an old lady from my former church just 
Beamed me one tonight. That evil eye is gone
And God bless, Gen-Z, for all your dysfunction,
That it's one of the two things which go away.
You're offended by Racism,---well, those generations
Were extremely Racist. I'm talking real racism
Not your made up intolerance.
Where they grew up in a culture where Racism
Imbibed the entire social order.
That evil eye is a relic of that same era,
And it looked upon every nerd and queer,
Straight through them,---and it chilled me to the bones.
Those were the greatest generations in history
Fam---The greatest. The Boomers had nothing on them.
They were salt of the Earth, the kindest people you'd ever meet.
But, don't be different around them, and don't be unique.
That is gone, and waning away, and is being forgotten.
Every generation has its great evils,
And yours is your homosexuality and transgenderism.
Those two generations it was the Stink Eye and Racism.
The Boomers it's Laziness, Greed and Lasciviousness.
Gen-X embodied a strange time, where no sin defined them.
But all sins worked equally, to equal degrees of complexity
Millennials, it's their pride and unwillingness to do hard work.
And Woo-Wee, did that stink eye crack like whip;
It had no tolerance for differences. No tolerance for being unique.
You won't remember it. I do. But, I still wish to emulate them
In everything else. What you pretend to be outraged against
It doesn't exist anymore. So, stop acting like idiots.

"Alex Jones is a madman,"
They painted him as a bad man,
Yet I must confess that in his words
Were some truth.

He was wrong about the shooting,
He was wrong about the spooking
Of CIA planes hitting our twin towers.

Yet, if he were not right I say,
I'll eat a pile of rice and pray
With my curry and my ginger
And some salt.

I'll eat and drink and be merry.
But Alex Jones, a Canary
Is pressed by Beatty that sleazy
Court-Lawyer, fool and slime.

Like Bradbury had spoken,
That fool who hates talk is a broken
Government with kerosene and fire.

Ol Beatty will live unspoken,
A dumb man who has broken,
Ol Alex Jones' spirit can you say?

For we are allowed to be wrong
We can see and sing our dumb songs
We can't be sued for what we truly believed.

Alex, live unbroken,
Get a fine lawyer 
And use that token
To fully defend our free speech.