Poisoned Penns

Poisoned Penns
By Russ Vaughn

It runs like a flood beneath their skins,
In the veins of these left-leaning actors;
From Leo to Sean it seems that all Penns
Can’t help but be shrill malefactors.
Leo loved Stalin’s world socialist dreams;
Sean too has this love for dictators,
Blind to their cruelty, inhumane schemes,
A trait not uncommon in traitors.

All the world’s a stage for Leo’s boy;
Sean misses no chance to play lead.
He’ll play a tyrant’s tomfool toy,
Like his new Venezuelan misdeed.
Actors like Sean, lightweights like him,
Are to tyrants like Chavez but fools;
Fools for the moment, fools on a whim,
History proves them nothing but tools.

Leo the Lefty had a socialist son,
In Hollywood that’s a surprise?
Pushing their dogma as innocent fun,
Filling viewers’ minds with their lies?
Taking advantage of entertainment skills,
To romanticize their social design,
A hammer and sickle up on Hollywood’s hills?
The Poison Penns would call that a sign.

Russ Vaughn

Russ Vaughn: The Involunteers

The Involunteers

One thing to me rings loud and clear
Through mainstream media sources:
Libs don’t understand, Volunteer,
When it comes to our fighting forces.
Their memories hark to former days,
Dubious deferments due to classes,
Craven cowering in cynical ways,
Just to cover their cowardly asses.

Pony-tailed pundits of treason foregoing,
Now scoff and condemn with derision,
Volunteer warriors, warned and knowing,
Who’ve made a fateful decision,
Foregoing the comforts liberals love,
That very succor to preserve,
A concept Libs are ignorant of:
To reap benefits, one should serve.

Ever fearful, Libs cower in classrooms,
Proclaiming the due of the masses;
On graves of the brave, toxic mushrooms,
Still cravenly covering their asses.
Preaching, protesting, showing their ire,
Cat-box covering all their worst fears,
Cowardly curs afraid of war’s fire,
They’re our nation’s Involunteers.

I know a truth from mankind’s past,
A truth that sure prevails;
Those who fight are those will last,
Throughout all man’s travails.
But those making phony excuses,
As false and fearful disguise,
Will feel history’s worst abuses,
Enslaved by their cowardly lies.

Russ Vaughn
101st and 82d Airborne
1959-1967

Debutantes of Defeat

Debutantes of Defeat
by Russ Vaughn

In 2003 they came to the Ball,
For some merry martial dancing;
Girlishly giggling in the Capitol hall,
Finding chords of war music entrancing.
Filled with excitement, throwing care to the wind,
DebiDems wanted Bush to be tough,
So the ladies signed on for a Ball with no end,
Without thinking it just might get rough.

But the dance card of war began to reveal,
That some people really were dying.
What? Death and violence are part of the deal?
That dumb cowboy must have been lying.
Lifting their hems, they ran for the doors,
Their hypocrisy blatantly stunning;
Shrieking defeat, they fled the dance floors,
Belles with no Balls, flat-out running.

Once hypocrite Hillary swirled the war floor,
Out-jingoing flat-footed Kerry;
Now Hil is shrilling she knew not the score,
Like whiney-voiced, tap-dancing Harry.
They went to the ball to advance their schemes,
They had planned, should the Martial Ball sour;
Lose the war, destroy Bush, fulfill their dreams,
They’d become the dance masters of power.

Hillary’s hip-hopping, Reid’s tapping like mad, club-footed Kerry’s still schlubbing,
And Pelosi in Damascus cornered Bashar for some old-fashioned, hot belly-rubbing.

Thin as a Reid (a poem)

I’ve wondered who’d do the evil deed;
Not surprisingly, it’s Harry Reid.
It was Cronkite stabbed us in the back;
This time it’s a pol not a media hack.
Uncle Walter used his powerful podium
To betray me and mine with nightly odium;
America’s avuncular pontificator,
Now an admitted, liberal, media traitor.

In his lonely grave, FDR must be spinning,
Franklin Delano’s party’s lost all sense of winning,
Focused on feelings rather than thinking,
Their cut’n’run view is that our ship is sinking.
FDR, who stayed firm through our world’s darkest days
Would despair at his party’s current, cowardly ways.
“There is no fear but fear itself?”
Ha! His party’s put courage on its bottom shelf.

Within this old vet a haunting fear lurks
That we may again lose to these liberal jerks.
They control the main airways, most that’s in print;
All the world sees and hears is their wimpish bent.
Belaboring losses in their daily whining,
All that America stands for they’re undermining;
Supplying our enemies with moral support,
Craven quitters inside, opening the gates of our fort.

To witness all this is surely most saddening,
More even than that is how much it is maddening,
That we who go out, lay our lives on the line,
To protect all the rights of these whiners to whine,
Are so seldom portrayed in a positive light,
Are never given credit for winning the fight;
Yet fight on we do to protect even those,
Who never buy us a drink, just give us the hose.

It is my prayer that Senator Reid, will someday account for his treacherous deed,
Kneeling towards Mecca, sore knees on a rug, perhaps he’ll regret he gave in to the thug.

Russ Vaughn
Combat Infantryman
Vietnam 65-66

Wild Irish Rose

Wild Irish Rose

What is that stench wafts ‘neath the nose?
Is it ABC’s Wild Irish Rose?
Must we endure this big broad’s ranting,
That has the liberal loon’s all chanting?
Dubya brought those towers down,
Claims this crazy corpulent clown.
Is our rotund Rose blatantly batty,
Or just hates the world ‘cause she‘s a fatty?

Appears that ABC has found
Ratings come cheaper by the pound;
Need someone hot, to blow and blab?
Hire a has-been encased in flab.
If its controversy that you like,
Broadcast a belligerent blowhard dyke,
Who hates the world because she’s fat,
And a dyke-by-default due to that.

Rose once played with Irish boys,
But boys don’t stay with tubby toys,
So Rosie pinned her heart to girls,
And men became just dogs and churls;
Especially men who act like men,
So Rosie’s out to do them in.
It’s sad to see such intelligence
Warped by hate, no common sense.

I take no pleasure in rhyming odium,
But I lack Rosie’s national podium,
No broadcast forum for rants and raves,
No applauding audiences, witless slaves;
Why denounce her deviance, excess weight?
Because they’re the roots of this Rose’s hate
Of a system where she’s never fit,
And she attacks our nation because of it.

A Rose by any name smells sweet?
Not this bulbous blossom of fatuous heat.

by Russ Vaughn

Editor's Note: The views expressed by Russ in his poetry may or may not express the views of the editors. We happily serve as an outlet for Russ Vaughn's work an will publish everything he submits without censoring his positions and thoughts.

Fly High you Eagles, soar

Fly High you Eagles, soar
On you we all depend.
To serve, to stand, support our war,
Our fallen to defend.
Stand firm, stand brave before our Wall;
Deal those a sorry fate,
Who answer Fonda's hateful call:
Our nation they must hate.

Fly high you Eagles, soar,
Your keen eyes see below,
The leftist fools oppose this war,
To them no low's too low.
They seek our Wall to desecrate,
To enhance their losing cause;
They seek to doom our nation's fate;
They see nothing but our flaws.

Fly high you Eagles, soar,
Above those who seek defeat,
Who seek submission, nothing more,
To a terror they can't meet.
They falter when the course is long;
They're weak-willed, failed and bitter;
Got it all entirely wrong,
So typical of a quitter.

Fly high you Eagles, soar,
Stand proud before our Wall;
You are the nation's heart, the core,
The essence of us all.
Know that we stand there with you,
In spirit and in soul,
America's not lost, not through,
We've a long, long way to go.

Fly high you Eagles, soar, from your lofty, special station,
Know this is true forever more; you've the blessing of your nation.

Russ Vaughn
Vietnam Veteran

Russ Vaughn is a friend of mine and he asked me to share this poem and raise awareness about the Gathering of Eagles, the "patriotic response of veterans and other supporters to the announced intention of the leftist-led, anti-war movement to march on the Pentagon on March 17th."

Russ writes:

When it became known that they intend to commence their march at the Vietnam War Memorial, the Wall, veterans groups all over the country began to organize a watch group for that and the other war memorials in that area of the Washington Mall to insure they will not be defaced or disrespected by these marchers as was our Capitol during a previous antiwar demonstration.

I have written some strongly worded lyrics to a song which I hope some musician will be able to set to some vigorous music. The lyrics will be featured on T-shirts being made up for the gathering. The T-shirt designer has asked me to refrain from disseminating the lyrics until he has his product ready to go, so I will send them to you when possible. I think you will appreciate the sentiments they express. By the way, my remuneration for this effort is the pledge of one extra-large T-shirt and nothing more

In the meantime, I have written a supportive poem, Fly High You Eagles, Soar...

I am happy to raise awareness and share Russ's work. If you are a patriot who supports the troops, and you do not wish to see our national monuments to our troops defaced by anti-war idiots that line up to listen to the likes of Cindy Sheehan and Hanoi Jane Fonda, please support their effort by raising awareness on your blog, or by donating to this cause, or by showing up to defend our national monuments on March 17th. Word of mouth is the only way we have to raise awareness. The press loves to report about the war detractors, but never about those who support the troops.



Related: Vietnam vets rally to protect memorial