The Unclad Soul

There is no question that Donald Trump is outmatched by Hillary Clinton. And why not? She’s been at this her entire adult life. She knows every political trick in the book and she masterfully applies them against him. He blunders along, in his street fighting mode, and he ends up being crude and bullying. Just what Hillary wants. She baits him and eggs him on and when he unloads his amateurish remarks she retaliates with polished, clever, adroit come backs. She has teams of writers and advisers, and of course Bill, who love this whole thing. They salivate over this stuff. It’s a game, a fun, exhilarating game to them. It’s a challenge for them to see just how ingenious they can be in turning Trump into a complete fool. And so far, it has worked perfectly. He of course plays along, having apparently no idea just how stupid they make him look, and how stupid he actually may be. He has no self-awareness. No understanding of what is actually going on. No game plan. No insight. No bigg...

I went down to the memory lane And walked alone along the hazy trail I saw my boyhood and the dogs I owned And the field down the street where I played ball On hot summer days with my friends I walked into my grandparent’s house The little place a few blocks away Where love reigned and the hugs would never end And I felt a worth I’ve not since known I saw the art class in junior high Where I built a sculpture out of tiles A cathedral with a golden steeple That my mom kept for years in our home I waved at the girl I kissed under the bleachers At the football game in the high school stadium And she smiled at me like she did long ago And I remembered how sweet life was How easy the days all seemed to flow I drove my first car to the Dairy Queen And sat and watched the kids all come and go Their laughter was real and their faces beamed With innocence that now has disappeared From the faces of so many kids I know I sat in church and h...