InvertedAPress
Petunia is Last to Go to Bed
updated
And though but a servant, I did as I willed.
Then I came with my mistress, my fortune to claim,
In that calm Collinwood, in the quaint state of Maine.
Barnabas Collins was the man of my dreams,
A handsome profile from a family of means.
But he fell in love with my mistress Josette,
A porcelain doll fit to fondle and pet.
Then I vowed in my mind,
My heart full of gall,
If he would not have me,
He'd have no one at all.
So I sent him by night,
To hunt and to kill,
To quaff human blood,
And to drink to his fill.
I could have but killed him,
Yet loved him too well.
I wanted him living,
So damned him to hell.
Each day by his coffin a vigil I keep.
Let no one disturb his ungodly sleep!
And longing I watch him and lonely I pine,
I daydream and wonder: why can't he be mine!
Then I send him by night,
To hunt and to kill.
To quaff human blood
And to drink to his fill.
And I vow in my mind,
My heart cold and chill:
If I cannot have him,
By the gods no one will!
Copyright 2025 Aya Katz
The shame of getting burned
My father's wrath has seared my eye.
My filial love is spurned.
Where can I go to hide my shame?
My honor to return?
My father's love I must regain,
My rightful place to earn!
And it burns me!
How it burns!
I hate Azula so!
Just wait, Just wait
Till I return
Triumphant with the foe!
A brief respite in Ba Sing Se
Just selling tea by day
But once again Azula comes
And gets me to betray.
The fire within me all consumes
My inner light goes dark,
But I must master my own doom
And learn to cast a spark!
And it burns me!
How it burns!
I hate Azula so!
Just wait, Just wait
Till I return
Triumphant with the foe!
What if the answer is not hate,
But aiming cold and slow,
What if it's better just to wait,
Before you loose the blow?
Can I be master of my fate,
The keeper of my ire,
Perhaps today it's not too late
To be the lord of fire?
And it burns me!
How it burns!
I've let my hatred go.
And now when I return
I'm allied with the foe!
Copyright 2025 Aya Katz
And I hate to admit that, despite all our fears,
We don't seem to have made a single blacklist,
For no one at all even knows we exist.
We are free to give speeches, fly banners, beat drums.
When we hold a meeting... Well, nobody comes.
We are free in this land to rise up and rebel,
And our books are not banned; they simply don't sell.
The Eastern block countries are fairer by far.
There you may not speak freely, whoever you are.
But our highest court has a ruling that's stranger:
No need to impede speech that poses no danger.
We are not tormented, harassed or beset.
I think it's because no one's noticed us yet.
They merely ignore us, the worst cut of all.
The walls have no ears -- yet we speak to the walls.
Copyright 1987, 2025 Aya Katz.
Note: I wrote these words in the 1980s. The poem was first published under a pseudonym in A Child Possessed.
If you are a vocalist and would like to do a cover, just drop me a line.
The sky went bright red,
But Petunia the duck
Would not go to bed.
Drake said to Petunia,
“It’s time now for bed.”
But Petunia was stubborn
“Not yet, please,” she said.
Drake went up to bed,
For the sun had just set,
But Petunia decided:
“I will not go just yet.”
The sky was bright pink,
The grass was pure green,
Other chickens and ducks
Were nowhere to be seen.
“Not yet,” quacked Petunia.
As she went down the lane,
“It’s too early, too soon now,
“Not yet,” she complained.
She quacked loud and clear,
As she waddled along,
“Not yet, not just yet,”
Came her voice clear and strong.
To the coop she came near
That’s as close as she’d get,
And she cried strong and clear:
“Not yet, not just yet!”
Then she stepped in the door,
And she went up to bed,
With a very loud cry of
“Not yet, not just yet!
Copyright 2025 Aya Katz
Based on this old memory:
youtu.be/CNEpk0hLzyY?si=ArTInd73mBimq_4z
I spoke - and fingered my neck.
For five days I had stared at that door,
I was theirs, at their call and their beck.
But I knew all the why and wherefore,
'Twas the start of a difficult trek.
I tried to ignore,
The blood and the gore,
While waiting for him to walk in through that door.
I was never pathetic and trusting,
I knew well how trust is repaid,
And we each of us made our own justice
By means of the gun and the blade.
But she asked me one day: "Do you trust me?"
I said: "Yes, I do, I'm afraid."
For it seems that there must be
A certain adjustment,
We break our own rules whene'er sentiment gushes.
She and I, we could both have been rich,
For I fooled all the banks of the world;
Things went off without ever a hitch,
Till they shot me and captured the girl.
And I lay there half dead in a ditch,
While the goon squad their sport had with her.
She jerked and she twitched,
But she would not snitch
And I wished to the gods that our places were switched.
The head of the great Federation,
The leader of starships and hordes,
Defender of all Terran nations,
Who ruled over vassals and lords,
Would certainly know the location
Of the man who must die at my sword.
"So all hands to stations!"
I cried out, impatient,
"We're off now to capture the head of all nations."
"I think he has lost all his senses;
"I think he has got a screw loose.
"If he thinks he can breach their defenses..."
"Be silent! I'll take no excuse,"
I said to the one who is densest,
"I'll have my foe's neck in a noose."
I'd scale walls and climb fences,
Evading their sensors,
I'd speak to the ruler, alone and defenseless.
I never desired revolution,
I never did dream of a coup,
For revolt is a sorry solution
When rebels but build all anew,
Reestablish with new resolution
The chains they sought once to undo.
So I felt no confusion
On what I was choosing:
A word with the chief — let the tyrant go loose then.
In a castle well guarded by cellmen,
The ruler was lodging, we knew,
And though I have no taste for rebellion,
It seems there are others who do;
For it chanced, when we came, one was welling,
The courtyard with corpses was strewn.
There is no way of telling
When rabble's rebelling,
They rise up so often, they're hardly worth quelling.
In a dungeon, and chained to the wall, then,
We found our illustrious ruler.
There's nothing to hurt like a fall,
When you're highest of all, and none crueler
Than jeers at a tyrant in thrall,
When it but fans the flame with more fuel.
But I cared not at all
For the bitterest gall
The despot must swallow, if ever he fall.
I had only one wish, one desire,
Just to know the true name of my foe,
My object was but to inquire,
Then to let the poor president go.
But the beaten eyes sparkled with fire,
And the voice queried: "Why must you know?"
My expression was dire,
"The man in your hire,
"It was he caused my one true love's life to expire."
Then the ruler's lips curled in a smile,
"Release me, I'll tell you the name."
The tyrant's eyes sparkled with guile;
I'd oblige, but just then a girl came
Who had led the revolt all this while,
And I viewed her with shock and in pain.
For there, soft and mild,
Like a lost little child,
Stood my only true love, but my soul filled with bile.
She saw me. She ran to embrace me.
I stood, cold, my heart full of dread.
"Why did you not come for me? Face me!"
I answered: "Because you were dead."
"But you see, I'm alive!" Not a trace of
Her guilt showed in all that she said.
She had lied with such grace
All my wits were effaced;
That was then, but not now, I've grown wiser apace.
"All near you were marked for collection,"
The other thug said in the cave,
For intelligence watched, undetected,
And no one they saw could be saved.
So I asked her with steady inflection:
"Who hid you? Who gave you a haven?"
"My husband," she raved.
"He was ever a knave.
"I never did love him, but he kept me safe."
"Your husband," I pondered a second,
"He wasn't ..." I spat out the name.
'Twas the ruler who answered my question:
"No, not even he knew her game,
"Now you know." Then my love drew her weapon,
My love and my foe were the same.
Not pausing to aim,
I shot at my flame,
And she fell to the floor; she was dying, in pain.
The tyrant still watched me politely,
I stared at the corpse full of grief,
"Convince yourself now," said to spite me,
"That this did not happen. Believe!"
So I set free the despot to fight me,
But the shot missed its mark, some relief.
A despot so mighty
Rose up to smite me,
But the rumor of death was exagg'rated ... slightly.
My sehlat beside me is lying.
Footsteps sound, Sahrek comes, grim and stern.
I'm sure he suspects me of crying.
They shouted: "Barbarian!" They said even worse things.
They claimed I'm a Terran and dubbed me an Earthling.
"Spock, being Vulcan means meeting the test.
"We demand much of both mind and body.
"You re-bel, but you know that our way is best.
"You brawl like a deckhand, your schoolwork is shoddy."
"It's true, O my father, I started the fight."
They say I'm a Terran. Perhaps they are right.
"For ten days in the desert all nature you'll face,
"To try out your strength and strive to prevail.
"You are my son, you'll avoid a disgrace."
"Father, but what if I fail?"
Children who taunt speak the truth unawares.
The flaw is in me, and the fault is not theirs.
I blame none but my father and mother,
Who in reckless, impassioned embrace,
Heedless of me, but entranced with each other,
Mingled green blood with red, race with race.
To my conception they never gave thought.
Now they reject the flawed work that they wrought!
Sahrek is stoic and very demanding,
To display of emotion he sternly objects,
Yet I watch as he dotes like a fool on Amanda,
And muse on the sterling example he sets.
Father, though I long for your esteem,
I can't walk in your footsteps, mine's another dream.
Kind, tender and loving is Mother,
And she wants her affection returned.
But she swore to behave like a Vulcan for Father.
How much of my love has she earned?
I'll be tight-lipped and closed to maternal appeal.
She who bids me obey must not know that I feel.
But someday I'll leave them and never come back,
I'm doomed from the day of my birth,
Outside to be Vulcan still more than Surak—
And within, more human than all those on Earth.'
I seek for the future in vacuum of space,
To find home and friendship in some foreign place.
I blame none but my father and mother,
Who in reckless, impassioned embrace,
Heedless of me, but entranced with each other,
Mingled green blood with red, race with race.
To my conception they never gave thought.
Now they reject the flawed work that they wrought!
Lived on the planet Earth.
My job was good, and it paid the bills,
But little was it worth.
I had civil rights up to my ears,
And I did just as I pleased,
But the right to speak and the right to vote
They left me ill at ease.
So poor was I, but free was I,
And I did as I willed.
But strange to say, I was oft dismayed,
And never felt fulfilled.
I'll not wear miniskirts,
I'll never speak my mind,
I've bound my soul to a Vulcan lord,
I walk ten paces behind.
But every seven years or so,
And oft more frequently,
My stern liege lord has desperate need of me!
There's a statue on the Planet Earth,
And tall and grand is she.
She bears a torch, and her nose is Greek.
They call her Liberty.
And oft I strayed there at her feet,
In sunshine and in mist,
What use the right to speak you mind
When no one to you lists?
I worshiped her and I gave alms
To the beggars at her feet.
But much as I tried, I felt no pride,
For I was incomplete.
One day an ambassador came to us,
From the Planet of Surak,
Young and pale, unsure and frail,
Authority he lacked.
Then rumors strange flew on the breeze,
Their truth I did suspect,
That Vulcan men could never lie,
And had no need of sex.
So with interest keen on the tele-screen
We watched him, women all,
Give interview to a TV shrew,
We longed to see him fall.
His mission here, as the news made clear,
Was a treaty to procure,
Between Vulcan and Terra to end an era,
Whose outcome was unsure.
For uneasy peace would one day cease,
It could not long endure,
Unless formal pact secured with tact,
Our differences could cure,
But Vulcans they are men of peace
And will not fight, they say.
So it seemed to all, little could befall.
For we'd win anyway!
“What happens,” asked the TV shrew,
“If a space war should break out?
“Between Earth and its foes as goodness knows,
“Will happen without doubt.
“So if we were to sign your treaty, sir,
“How would we be repaid?
“Interstellar war is bloody and sore,
“Would Vulcan come to aid?”
The Vulcan stirred and cleared his throat,
“Oh, that you well should know,
:We Vulcans never fight,” he said,
“The answer's therefore 'No'!:
When I heard this, my eyes did mist,
And I laughed till I was sore.
He had no more sense in his world's defense
Than an honest child of four.
A week did pass, and I came at last,
To pray at Liberty's feet,
Like the Vulcan pure on an organized tour,
Twas there we twain did meet.
We chanced to speak of civil rights,
And he turned his eyes on me,
There was such a spark in those orbs so dark,
As I never before did see,
I'll not wear miniskirts,
I'll never speak my mind,
I've bound my soul to a Vulcan lord,
I walk ten paces behind.
But every seven years or so,
And oft more frequently,
My stern liege lord has desperate need of me!
I learned much of him as we walked alone,
And as the day progressed,
Little knew he of diplomacy,
and even less of sex.
“How came you here to this strange career?
“No diplomat are you.”
“My fathers chose my livelihood,
“There's nought else I could do.”
Then I pitied him, as I pitied me,
And the Universe at large,
And I swore to help this Vulcan whelp,
And took him under my charge.
There's an old Earth jest that fit us best.
I told it to my guest:
When a lady says “No” she means “Perhaps,”
And her “Perhaps” is “Yes”.
A diplomat when he says “Yes”
Means a Perhaps and so,
If he snaps out a “Perhaps”
That's when he's saying “No,”
A lady, should she ever say “Yes”
No lady then is she,
And a diplomat who utters “No”
Knows no diplomacy.
He listened well to what I did tell,
And he took good note,
For when next he was seen on the telescreen,
He knew it all by rote.
His work on Earth was nearly done,
I hoped to see him no more,
When one cold night, he gave me a fright,
By banging on my door.
“What they say of us is nearly true,”
He spoke low and in haste,
“We are sworn to truth from our youth,
“And our lives are pure and chaste.”
“Save that once in seven years,” quoth he,
“We must take a mate or die.”
No diplomat was he that night,
And no lady – I.
I was filled with doubt when I found out
I bore his child in me.
His voice so grim bid me marry him,
His sworn bondswoman to be.
What of my civil rights, thought I,
The life that I had planned,
For those of my kind are little inclined
To live at a lord's command.
Then long I thought on the rights I had,
The things I held most dear,
To cast one vote in a billion or more,
To speak where none would hear.
The Vulcan man was the only one
To listen when I spoke.
He had need of me and that might be
The reason my will broke.
So I said goodbye to Liberty
The Vulcan's bride to be.
Mine was a move that would be approved
By the ancient Phyllis Schlafly.
SEEK-LOCATE-DESTROY
When Servalan called Travis
To her neat, well furnished office
She wanted to chat
For a short little while
About this, about that,
There was death in her smile.
Her hair it was the blackest,
And her nails were sharp and lacquered.
She toyed like a cat
Now pulled tight, now let slack,
Till she tired of that
And got down to brass tacks.
"They say that you have stumbled,
That you should be punished, humbled...
But past is the past
And it's best to forget
Those you slaughtered en masse...
Now, please don't get upset!"
"You'll win back your position
"If you do well on this mission,
"I want you to take
"Out that thorn in my side,
Break that rebel Roj Blake.
See you get it done right!"
"I know you have no scruples.
That's a trait that I find useful.
But please watch your step
And take care what you do
It;s a very good bet
That my eye is on you!"
So seek, locate destroy him!
I will give you ships, deploy them!
And it seems safe to say
That we're bound to prevail
For there'll be hell to pay
Should it chance that you fail!"
Copyright 1988, 2025 Aya Katz
You offered me a chance to run -- I went.
You say you plan to liberate the masses,
But I never heard you ask for their consent.
If you want to set men free,
Go ahead: Start with me!
For a man has yet to last who
Could call himself my master!
You fight slavery, so I've heard.
I will take you at your word.
In the end the Liberator will be mine!
I almost wish I were on Cygnus Alpha.
Escape the Feds and end up serving Blake?
There's no such thing as freedom in itself, but
You can choose the type of bondage that you'll take.
Your bearing says you think that you have snared me.
Your trusting, open smile says I am yours.
Don't underestimate me, Blake, beware me!
This one time you reckon with an unknown force.
If you want to set men free,
Go ahead: Start with me!
For a man has yet to last who
Could call himself my master!
You fight slavery, so I've heard.
I will take you at your word.
In the end the Liberator will be mine!
If you want to set men free,
Go ahead: Start with me!
For a man has yet to last who
Could call himself my master!
You fight slavery, so I've heard.
I will take you at your word.
In the end the Liberator will be mine!
In the end, the Liberator will be mine!!
Copyright 1988, 2025 Aya Katz
Together, but alone,
And no kind words escape lips,
Not even from my own.
But sometimes when we fight
It almost feels all right,
For when we're killing others,
We're all on the same side.
I want to touch your mind,
To look inside and find
The warmth and the affection
I knew with my own kind.
The Auron young are brought up
To trust and even share
Their deepest thoughts with others,
As Earthmen never dare.
But I have been a rebel,
The Auron peace I've spurned.
I left my world forever!
And now I can't return.
And even if I went back,
They could not know me well,
For they are so contented,
And I have been through hell!
So Liberator's home now,
Her crew my only mates.
Together, and yet lonely,
We share one feeling: hate!
I want to touch your mind,
To look inside and find
The warmth and the affection
I knew with my own kind.
But sometimes when we fight,
It almost feels all right,
For when we're killing others,
We're all on the same side!
Copyright 1988, 2025 Aya Katz
Shootin' the Breeze by Aya Katz
How many feet must a fledgling fall
Before he can soar like a hawk?
And how many floors must a small baby crawl,
Before he will stand up and walk?
And how many wars must we lose by default,
Before we have tired of talk?
Don't pay any mind to my question, good friends.
You know I'm just shootin' the breeze.
How many times must a man be knocked out,
Before he won't take anymore?
And how many times must our land be sold out,
Before it's too hard to ignore;
And how long before we've all figured out,
That some things are worth fighting for?
When her cub is attacked by a nose-diving kite,
Does the she-wolf think all flesh is kin?
Oh, why do we think that dying's all right,
But hold that to kill is a sin?
And why do we send out our young men to fight,
When we're trying so hard not to win?
Don't pay any mind to the question, my friends.
You know I'm just shootin' the breeze.
When the pebbles and sand of a beach are well stained
With our blood, can we just let it go?
How many times must brave men die in vain,
So that others can put on a show,
Giving up precious ground that spilt blood has gained
To maintain what they call status quo?
How dark must the sky seem before we can all
Tell for sure that it really is night?
And why must we wait till out back's to the wall,
Before we are willing to fight?
And why are we ever so eager to stall
Till the foe's on our shores in plain sight?
Don't pay any mind to the question, my friends.
You know I'm just shootin' the breeze.
How many roads must a man travel down,
Before he stops dead in his tracks?
And how many times must we give up our ground,
Before we decide to attack.
How low in the mud must we sink till we've found
The courage we need to fight back.
Don't pay any mind to the question, my friends.
You know I'm just shootin' the breeze
Based on Adam Corby's THE FORMER KING and THE DIVINE QUEEN
A death-barge washed up on the shores of the North,
It bore a strange manly form.
His eyes were of jade, and we watched him, afraid,
As he waded in toward the shore.
He was lean and ill fed, half starved almost dead,
"Former King," some called him - they scorned.
But the darkbeast he'd fight, the North tribes unite,
By Kuln Holn we were duly forewarned.
Ara-Karn, Former Lord, spoke nary a word,
His countenance stern and opaque.
Only later we learned, from the dead he'd returned
To fight for the North people's sake.
Some watched in alarm as he beat fierce Gen-Karn,
The two men fought hand to hand.
Then the tribes chose him chief, but it gave no relief,
For a grand campaign had he planned.
The Northernmost tribes have offered a bribe,
To their King a princess they present.
Ara-Karn won't consent, gives anger his vent,
Retires for the night and weeps in his tent.
Ara-Karn led wild bands down from North lands
To pillage, to burn, and to loot.
They raped and they killed, their coffers they filled,
While he watched them distant and mute.
We men of the South are soft to the touch,
Our skin is less rough than North woman's cheek;
The men of the North are rude and uncouth,
We Southerners, idle and weak.
Some say Ara-Karn is no Northern man,
But one of our own who took up their cause,
Some say Ara-Karn is as large as a barn,
Seven score old with strange beastly claws.
Allissal, Allissal, Divine Queen of the South,
Fought for the right to fight back.
With the council she'd plead, "It is time for brave deeds,
"To stop the retreat and begin the attack."
The Queen's pride and joy, her sweet golden boy,
He will set out to battle her foes.
Her flesh and her blood, he's the son of a god,
Or so the official tale goes.
But the boy's still a youth, and cannot, forsooth,
By law wield scepter or rod.
He may ride out to war with a score and no more,
So his guardians decreed with a nod.
Elnavis, Elnavis, a youth and a novice,
Knew not of his one true birthright,
Did not think it was odd, that his father the god
Never came to his aid in the fight.
It seems that our Queen, when a girl of fifteen,
Had a roll in the hay, with a stablehand, yet!
It meant nothing to her, cast him off as a cur,
But her he could never forget.
The boy who was lean, his eyes flecked with green,
Loved her true and would not forget.
But not so Allissal, a mistake we would all,
In due time come to regret.
Ara-Karn, Ara-Karn, caused us much harm,
Pursuing the girl of his dreams,
While somewhere out there his child and his heir
Fought for our right to be free.
A year now has passed, since Elnavis rode last
With a handful of lads, for to tame the North lands.
They found his helmet and shield, which he'd never yield,
Unless he were vanquished and slain.
The Priestess most high has given last rites
To guide well his ghost on oblivion's tack,
A great barge they burned, his soul's in an urn.
Sacrilege should he ever come back.
The great Allissal wept for her son,
Then returned to the palace, desolate mother.
In her bed she was laid by a strange man of jade,
Who gave comfort to her as a lover.
There's a spy in our van, he foils all our plans,
But the Queen smiles again, and we do what we can.
Merchant towns fall to barbarians in thrall,
Allissal puts her trust in strange green eyed man.
Back from the North boldly rides forth
Elnavis with rough warrior band.
He's come back to find the hordes at the door,
But he's now of an age to command.
"Mother, my dear, never fear, I am here,
"So bring out the mead and let fly the banners."
The men laugh at her and guzzle their beer,
Rough warrior lads have no manners.
Allissal paled a shade, to her dear son she said:
"How dare you come back from the dead?!
"I am now in command and your sword I demand,
"While the enemy pounds at our gate."
"I wept for you once, but now tnat you've come,
"Elnavis, you come back too late.
"Why not before? Now I need you no more.
"Elnavis, why did you wait?"
Elnavis fought well, then stopped for a spell,
After more than a day, at a shrine.
He was battered and bruised, and a little confused,
And drank to his fill potioned wine.
Elnavis, Elnavis, a fool and a novice,
Was slain by the old high priestess.
A soul laid to rest has no right to exist.
Spake the gods: "He must die, nothing less."
Elnavis, who fought hard, died lamb to the slaughter,
Dam and sire made a martyr of him.
The lovers still quarrel and bloody the war,
The hope for our people is dim.
Ara-Karn, Allissal, may you both rot in hell!
Your people you two have betrayed.
For ruler should never by feeling for lover
Let judgment or actions be swayed.
The streets are blood red, filled with dying and dead,
But the Queen knows the truth, knows the jaded man's ruse
And when next they meet, one will know a defeat.
What issue will this day produce?
Copyright 1986 Aya Katz
We all live by the ballot,
So my teachers said to me.
It's the ballot that constricts our lives,
And the ballot sets us free.
There is power in the ballot
Over government and state.
Go out and cast your ballot, child,
Go forth and choose you fate.
For ballots are the right of man,
We learned it all by rote.
The good we find throughout our land,
Its safeguard is the vote.
There are ballots cast in ignorance,
And ballots cast in hate.
There are ballots that are bought and sold,
All at the going rate.
Now some vote by the party,
And some vote for the man;
Some can't afford to jury serve,
So they don't vote -- they can't.
Are ballots just the ballast that
Ensures we balance all?
No toppled thrones, no loss of face ...
It's we who take the fall.
Still, I try to cast my ballot,
And I try to choose between
The man who'll pick my pocket,
And the one who'll rob me clean.
Select the sage who'll gag my mouth,
Forbidding me to speak,
Or the saint who'll take my bank account
And hand it to the meek.
Oh, ballots balance good and bad,
They balance right and left,
Make sure the pure cannot prevail --
They balance rape and theft.
The poor, they sell their ballots
For the highest they are bid
In welfare checks and services
And day care for the kids.
The rich can buy their congressman
Through lobbyists and PACs.
For middle class it's motherhood
And government contracts.
Ballots make of liberty
A fuzzy fairytale.
Oh, Santa, bring a gift to me,
And Santa never fails.
I walk among the people,
And I share the lives they share.
Some are naive and some are thieves
And most have long despaired.
They know they've lost their freedom,
But they can't say when and where.
Perhaps it was the ballot box.
Does anybody care?
The ballot box's no battlefield
For proud and honest folk.
Trade ballots in for bullets, friends,
Come out and cast your vote.
She said: "My name is Rhonda,
"But the guys all call me Rose."
She said: "I own a Honda,
"But I'd rather drive a Rolls."
She said: "Now don't get nervous,
"I'm a decent girl, I am.
"I work for an escort service,
And I do the best I can."
She said: "Now you're a lawyer,
"And I am in a bind,
"And though I do not know you,
"Your face seems nice and kind.
"They're charging me with thieving,
"They say I stole a car.
"Did no such thing, believe me!
"So how much will you charge?"
He said bring me back
My Cadillac,
You lying little whore.
I'm John McCay
And the D.A.
Will even up the score,
I treated you right kindly,
I treated you okay,
You went back on your promise, girl,
And now you're gonna pay!
Well, I was mighty young then,
A greenhorn starting out,
I said: "I'll take five hundred,"
"That much or thereabouts."
She flashed a smile so lovely,
She said: "Why that's all right,
"I make about that sum for,
"The work of just one night."
I took my legal pad out,
I started taking notes,
While Rose told me her story,
And as she spoke I wrote:
"I was down and out last summer,
"No money and no wheels,
"And John McCay met me one day,
And he offered me this deal."
"He said: 'I like you honey,
"`And the way you make me feel,
"'I haven't got much money,
"'But I'll let you use these wheels.'
"The Cadillac was rented,
"He used his credit card,
"And I at once consented,
"My time against his car."
"And so I made the promise,
"To meet him once a week,
"I really meant to -- honest!
"I didn't mean to cheat.
"But soon I was real busy,
"I got this brand new job,
"To work for Bob and Lizzy.
"I guess I plain forgot."
He said bring me back
My Cadillac,
You lying little whore.
I'm John McCay
And the D.A.
Will even up the score,
I treated you right kindly,
I treated you okay,
You went back on your promise, girl,
And now you're gonna pay!
The judges all were crooked,
Would not deign to dismiss,
We did not go to trial,
For they did not insist.
Rhonda'd come and meet me,
Within the courthouse halls,
Every month she'd greet me,
But nothing changed at all.
Now Rhonda took some classes,
At secretarial school,
Her voice like sweet molasses,
She grilled me on the rules:
"I heard of the Magna Carta,
"And Bill of Rights," says she,
"They taught us them this morning.
"Do those apply to me?”
He said bring me back
My Cadillac,
You lying little whore.
I'm John McCay
And the D.A.
Will even up the score,
I treated you right kindly,
I treated you okay,
You went back on your promise, girl,
And now you're gonna pay!
One night she did a lawyer,
Who played golf with the judge,
And we all went and saw him,
And he accomplished much.
The judge saw him in chambers,
They nearly came to blows,
But when the thing was over,
They let poor Rhonda go!
Now, to answer Rhonda's question,
About the Bill of Rights,
I've got one small suggestion,
And you may want to try't.
'Cause from this simple story,
I think we've learned this much:
It's best to get a lawyer
Who plays golf with the judge.
Copyright 1987, 2010, 2025 Aya Katz
Who demanded a fee for her love,
And she forced former children to serve her,
And she never accepted rebuff.
She kidnapped, indentured those sailors,
Who had never agreed they should serve
And she thought she could live off the payments
That others were making to her.
But Americans swore they were freemen,
And only would work for their gain
And they never consented to fiefdom
To serve under England or Spain.
Now Madison turned to the Congress
And he asked that a war be declared
Against Britain, that unruly mother,
Who forced sailors under her care.
But the coffers of war they were empty,
And the army and navy were poor
And American patriot menfolk
Were not ready to set out to war.
They had sworn that they never would live for
Another, and only alone for their gain,
And who wants to die for the right to
Avoid paying taxes again?
If not for the brave privateers who
Had always made war for their gain,
Who would set aside natural fear for
The right to know freedom again?
When the British approached Jean Laffite and
Required that he help them regain
Their colonial holdings, discreetly
He sent word to Americans then.
He said: "Though you're holding my brother,
"In that dirty old Cabildo jail,"
"I will never agree to serve Britain,
"And I do want your side to prevail."
But Patterson, hearing the news that
The British were near Mobile Point,
Instead of defending Ft. Bowyer,
Came and ransacked closer to home.
He took all the ships that Laffite had,
The stores were to serve as his spoils,
And he feasted on chocolate and Seegars
And he cared not the British to foil.
So it came that when Jackson came marching
His ragtag troops for their stint,
They were shoeless and all out of powder,
And awfully short on the flint.
And up spoke Laffite: "Let me help you,
"I have men, and cannons and flint,
"I have barrels and barrels of powder,
"We will fight for you, just let us in! "
There are men who fight for their nation,
Because in fighting they gain,
And together they vanquished the British,
Who were crushed so that few did remain.
And the British, they begged to be let go,
And America won on that day,
And not because taxes or duties
Or regular armies held sway.
For the men who have chosen no thralldom,
And who fight every day for their bread,
Are the ones who are ready when called on,
Who can shoot at the foe until dead.
There are men who will fight but are fearful,
And who miss because of that fear,
But the reason we all are still here is
Because there were once privateers.
Copyright 2017, 2025 Aya Katz
by Aya Katz
What makes America the place to be
Is not the welfare state
It's not that education's free
Or banning speech you hate.
America is great because
There is a limit on the laws
And each is free to buy and own
To join a group or live alone.
What makes America the place to be
Is not the safety net.
When you are free no guarantee
Determines what you get.
America is great because
When Congress passes unjust laws
The Patriot's right to arm and rise
Is sacred in the People's eyes!
(c) 2025 Aya Katz
To purchase this song or listen to it on Spotify:
open.spotify.com/album/5YhlR241cIKZduDQjDh07v?referral=labelaffiliate
music.apple.com/us/album/america-the-great-single/1823796784
music.apple.com/us/album/america-the-great-single/1823796784
distrokid.com/hyperfollow/ayakatz/america-the-great
Father, Mother, and Me,
Sister and Auntie say,
All the people like us are We,
And every one else is They.
And They live over the sea,
While We live over the way,
But - would you believe it?
-They look upon We
As only a sort of They!
We eat pork and beef
With cow-horn-handled knives;
They who gobble Their rice off a leaf,
Are horrified out of Their lives.
And They who live up a tree,
And feast on grubs and clay,
(Isn't it scandalous?) look upon We
As a simply disgusting They!
We shoot birds with a gun,
They stick lions with spears.
Their full-dress is un-,
We dress up to Our ears.
They like Their friends for tea.
We like Our friends to stay;
And, after all that, They look upon We
As an utterly ignorant They!
We eat kitcheny food.
We have doors that latch.
They drink milk or blood,
Under an open thatch.
We have Doctors to fee.
They have Wizards to pay.
And (impudent heathen!)
They look upon We
As a quite impossible They!
All good people agree,
And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!)
looking on We
As only a sort of They!
kiplingsociety.co.uk/poem/poems_wethey.htm
pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/21623535
Of course, there are also other factors involved, such as the genetic vulnerability to levels of toxicity in the individual subjects. Since it is known that less mature individuals are more vulnerable to developmental disorders, I suggest that level of neoteny in an infant receiving vaccination is a factor.
Females tend to myelenate brain regions earlier, and this could account for why the rate of autism is higher in human males where the same level of toxicity from vaccines is present. Similar differences in the rate of myelination can be found in different population groups , but have not been studied well.
Tsvi Misinai is an Israeli researcher, writer, historian, computer scientist and entrepreneur. A pioneer of the Israeli software industry, Misinai spends most of his time researching and documenting the common Hebrew roots he believes shared by world Jewry and the Palestinians, including those that are citizens of Israel.
I interviewed Misinai twice in one week, at the very end of December 2024: once in English and a second time in Hebrew. We talked about the common roots of Palestinians and Israeli Jews and the possibility of uniting them under an umbrella of Israeli sovereignty.
For non-Hebrew speakers, there are captions in English. Please just click on the cc.
MISINAI"S YOUTUBE Channel: / @misinai
RELATED LINKS: https://the-engagement.org1
#israelpalestineconflict #originofPalestinians #peaceinmiddleeast
#BookofRuth #paleoHebrew #writingsystems
#signlanguage #Samaritan #deaf
I read it during the height of the Cicada invasion, so that is the insect buzz you hear in the background.
Related Article: pubwages.com/55/who-should-pay-for-waging-war
Music by Mozart “A Musical Joke”
#ticks #amusicaljoke #flowersblooming
#internmentcamps #Japaneseinternment #FDR
To order the book or just read the review, here is a link: Our Lady of Kaifeng : Courtyard of the Happy Way walmart.com/ip/959073929
0:00 הקדמה
0:24 פרק ז
5:46 פרק ח
9:42 דיון אחרי הקריאה
#קהלת #ecclesiastes
קשת הוא קוף אדם שגדל יחד עם בתי
קשת יודע איך לאכול רימון בעזרת סכין
הוא גם כותב את שמו -- אבל קצת קשה לקרוא את כתב ידו
מנגינה: ערב של שושנים
=========
Music Attribution
From the YouTube Library
Erev shel Shosanim -- E's Jammy Jams
0:00 הקדמה
0:19 פרק ה
3:57 פרק ו
6:00 דיון אחרי הקריאה
#קהלת #ecclesiastes
שב אל הקשת שב החץ
שב הרימון אל ראש העץ
#chimpanzee #pomegranate #ofra
=============================
0:00 הקדמה
0:27 פרק ג
4:14 פרק ד
7:30 סוף הקריאה
===========================
=============================
0:00 הקדמה
0:12 פרק א
3:24 פרק ב
8:24 פרק ג
12:08 סוף הקריאה
===========================
.אסי דגני מקריא את מגילת רות
Read my Books: amazon.com/Aya-Katz/e/B004EKEM6A/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1
Instagram: instagram.com/vacuumcounty3307
My art channel: youtu.be/kDLEaNiT2MM
#charlesdickens #greatexpectations #upwardmobility
youtu.be/20Y1ie8Ptf4
Who is this guy? davidmcelroy.org/?page_id=2
#liberty #Pinkyandthebrain #takeovertheworld
I also discuss the character of Mrs. Joe Gargery, Pip's sister who raised him "by hand."
Buy My Books:
amazon.com/Aya-Katz/e/B004EKEM6A
#dickens #GreatExpectations #MrsJoeGargery
00:00 הקדמה
00:53 זכרונות מכיתה א
01:25 ברכבת הקלה
13:55 חדר מיון
22:43 דממה של יום כפור
24:50 שיר על פיג'מה
25:53 שיר מעברי
27:38 עזבונות
30:00 שיר על ט"ו בשבט
36:00 שיר ליום הולדת
38:13 זבובי קיץ
39:00 שיר סתמי
41:58 הזמן
walmart.com/ip/In-Case-There-s-a-Fox-Bilingual-Edition-9781618790101/649162244
00:00 הקדמה
01:18 מאת אסי דגני : שיר ראשון: בקפצי מגג
04:18 תרגום ראשון (William Blake “How do you know but ev’ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos’d by your senses five?)
10:27 תרגום שני (Edmund Burke: "The")
13:34 שיר ירושלמי מאת אסי דגני
19:08 השתלמות באהבה: תרגום שלישי (John Donne "Elegy #18" Love's Progress)
0:00 הקדמה
1:00 שיר הספד לציפי ברמן
7:34 תרגום: ליל אפל הנשמה
18:30 איך אסי למד לנגן
במקרה של שועל הוא ספר לילדים בעברית וגם אנגלית
#short #shorts #bilingualchildren's book #ספרלילדים
0:00 הקדמה -- איך לבוא לפגישה
5:00 חרב שלמה
15:40 שיר ירושלמי על חתול לבן--- שיר חדש של אסי
29:16 ספר דניאל
#TheBenefactors
#Rudyard #Kipling
Vacuum County: amazon.com/Vacuum-County/dp/B078HCL1MP
Contents:
00:00:00 Introduction to this video
00:03:41 Deferred Gratification
00:05:41 The All Gone Rule
00:10:51 A Christmas Carol Revisited: Introduction
00:11:14 A Excerpt from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol
00:13:41 Introduction to my article
00:15:20 Scrooge is a Model of Filial Piety
00:17:27 Scrooge is a True Gentleman in his Dealings with Women
00:20:03 Scrooge, Charity and Government Welfare
00:22:02 Paying for Love
00:24:35 The Dickens Bias
00:25:33 Scrooge is the Anti-Dickens
00:29:09 George C. Scott as Scrooge
00:30:33 Our Personal Appraisal
00:32:14 My Christmas Message


