 Some GOP clown calls for reparations of his own. He repeats the stupid lie about why all those Yankees had to die. “To free the slaves!” he says. Such obfuscations can’t hide the fact that Lincoln’s calculations were otherwise. Such fictions cannot fly. Why do these propagandists even try? Can’t they anticipate the complications? The war was fought to crush the independence of any state that dared to raise its head and not just join Leviathan’s attendants. The Yankee plan: to rule the South through dread and subjugate fierce liberty’s descendants. The cause of freedom afterward was dead. This piece was published on Flammeus Gladius on May 8, 2023.
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 You had fond memories of dismal days and thus returned to Ireland when you could. If only we could imitate your ways! Turns out that unpaid labor truly pays. You were enslaved and generated good. You had fond memories of dismal days as only heroes can. The lad who prays may confidently do the deeds he should. If only we could imitate your ways of sainthood! We instead make vain displays of piety in safety’s neighborhood. You had fond memories of dismal days, but we cling to our pleasures, begging praise for tiny things. At ease in this dark wood, if only we could imitate your ways! Well, we’re mere sheep — and thus content to graze. We listened — but we never understood. You had fond memories of dismal days. If only we could imitate your ways! This was previously published on Flammeus Gladius on March 17, 2023.
 The Red Wave didn’t happen. No surprise To me. It was a prophecy too good For zombies such as us to realize. We ain’t in no triumphant neighborhood. Progressives cheated, sure. We knew they would. But did they need to cheat to hold at bay The promised wave? As if mere cheating could! Truth is that cheating’s just the game they play. They have to keep in practice. But today It’s clear, if it was not quite clear before, That, ever since the Blue Boys beat the Gray, This country’s been an unrepentant whore. Since then, there never has been power to save In any damn imaginary wave. This piece was published on Flammeus Gladius on November 10, 2022.
 The Yankee literati couldn’t bear A Southern gentleman like Mr. Poe. Judgmental in their absolutist lair, They scoffed at Southern genius. Even so It always is with lamps that truly glow In the thick dark that apes normality. Into obscurity must such lights go! To such truth, how can puffed-up frauds agree? The messengers of mediocrity Pushed hard. It seemed that excellence was dead. The lies of Griswold spread alarmingly. Delighted Yankees on that poor corpse fed-- But did not long enjoy their ghoulish feast. Who raised Poe from defeat? Les symbolistes! This poem was originally published on Flammeus Gladius.
 The Empire is collapsing as we speak. Why is the Emperor still full of pride? He’s naked – and we see that he’s a freak. The Empire is collapsing as we speak. In history, such moments aren’t unique. The evidence is always, though, denied. The Empire is collapsing as we speak. Why is the Emperor still full of pride? This was originally published on September 16, 2022 at FlammeusGladius.
 Ty Seidule Ty Seidule has victory at last Against the dead, whom fiercely he’s maligned. A whole new set of base names is assigned. The present can obliterate the past. The heroes that he never would have sassed Back when they rode for Dixie, steely-spined, Titanic Ty can now, delighted, grind Into the dust. It happened really fast. Behold: progressive forces celebrate Ty’s triumph over every Rebel name! Greatness lies redefined – not by the great But by the petty. They pursue an aim Too trivial for noble souls to state. Dwight Eisenhower hangs his head in shame. 
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AuthorTom Riley was born in Buffalo, but through study has become a Rebel from Yankeeland. He works as a freelance copywriter and is the author of Love Poems of a Hatemonger and The Ghost of Biden’s Brain. Archives
January 2025
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