SCOTT ALEXANDER MCKENZIE

Papa, please tell us that story again,
The one that doth make thy blood boil?
We all want to hear of the troubles back then,
In the throes of the Dems’ mortal coil.

Tell us the part where our cities were burned,
By that terrorist group clad in black,
And more of that bogus pandemic what spurned,
A loss of our freedom, and what brought it back?

My children, please sit; I’ll tell you the tale,
Of the hero who helped make us great,
Bless-ed was Trump… for he could not then fail,
Lest we fall to an ab-horrent fate.

We are saved, dear ones, the fam’ly has plenty,
Thank God, we survived… the Summer of Twenty.

But what of Ms Clinton who rotted in jail,
For treason, sedition, and those other crimes?
Benghazi, oh my, and those darkened emails,
And the many she killed in their prime?

That Muslim Obama who spied on Dear Trump,
Who framed Gen’ral Flynn and funded Iran,
Lied about healthcare while up on the stump,
Pray, is it true?  That he married a man? 

Whoa, kids!  Please settle.  There’s so much to tell,
Decades, they schemed and destroyed from within,
Perfecting the art of casting their spell,
Through fake news... the purveyors of spin.

But Summer of Twenty... 'twas when the Dems fell,
And Patriot Trump did send them to Hell.

There’s more, dear Papa, we know it is true,
That Biden and son stole our tax money through,
A scheme with Ukraine and a company who,
Kicked back dough when old Joe turned the screw.

Then that woman, you said, who started a coup,
Speaker Nancy, they say, loved her booze,
You spoke of the great many facts they did skew,
Even kids know “impeach” means “accuse.”

Children, you’re smarter than they before you,
Not to blame the poor youth of that time,
The system was rigged with the Common Core zoo, 
That Obama had built on our dime,

It’s crazy to think just how near to the brink,
The Summer of Twenty did slink.

But we did make it through; this much is true,
'Spite ferocious attacks from all sides,
Republicans said to the Dems: “Grand adieu,
We’ll sustain with the Truth as our guide.”

We value the law and comity so,
We support and defend those in blue,
‘Tis peace they do bring, and with safety we know,
We can focus on big things to do.

America’s great, so go contemplate,
That business you want to begin,
‘Cause Trump always said, “Let's deregulate,
It will help our economy win!”

So, go, and “Be Best” on your personal quest,
For the Summer of Twenty was blest!

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Somewhere in London, she stands there in white,
Dark eyes reflecting these black clouds above,
She gathers her might and studies her plight,
While the rain falls on twenty white doves.

White lies befallen and now she’s crestfallen,
O’er a love that was never to be,
Stiff arms, white knuckles, a face of pale skin,
Conjure thousands of reasons to flee,

To white sands and freedom; fresh air to breathe,
Coconut drinks and a reason to thrive,
A place to forget this white bridal wreath,
Sunglasses, a book, and a life to revive.

Where she’ll crack a slight smile and flip back her hair, 
Reminding herself: white knights… they are rare.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Red embers of mine heart doth burn for thee,
‘Neath this eternal flame what warms my soul,
When rose blooms in thy cheek ye cry for me,
As once two halves of love become a whole,

Sangria locks, they frame thy ‘proving eyes,
Two gems amid that gentle field of milk,
When ruby mouth doth issue blissful sighs,
They hold my lips like cushions made of silk,

Red blood, it pumps for thee, ye cannot know,
The silent power held by you of me,
My lasting wish: my life I could bestow,
Delivered with these tears and bended knee,

Alas, it cannot be, my fond delight,
I’m sailing after sunset, lost in night.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

As a wildflower, ye come to me,
When months of Winter’s discontent are drown,
By these long weeks of tears I shed for thee,
And hope is all but lost to earth unsound,

What’s this that lifts my darkened eyes to see?
Thy golden face aglow in midday sun,
With open arms, collecting my debris,
You carry me to Love whence we’d begun,

Thy wan-der-ing and inconsistent ways,
Release them, I beseech, and stay with me,
My love, be sure: that cure for this malaise,
For in my dreams, ye pledge to always be.

Alas, thy bless-ed warmth what graced my bed,
Oh woe… despite my endless love… has fled.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

We tend to speak of God in certain terms,
And some do understand while others don’t,
In conscientious hearts: belief confirms,
Alas, in those whose souls be closed: it won’t.

Some say that only fools shall trust in God,
With sureness same as those who do believe,
Yet simp’lest of percepts doth show it flawed,
And thee who cannot see is but naïve.

So if you dare explore, I do enjoin,
You wander solemn verses with free heart,
In search of such bejeweled and crucial coigne,
‘Tis found when hanging ‘round René Descartes.

So, settle in… from here, we do proceed,
And, in the end, I hope you will accede.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

God is here among, within, and with us,
But how, you say?  I cannot see His face,
With clos-ed mind, you won’t, so let’s discuss,
And view some simple ways He splays His Grace.

The silence of a morning mountain lake,
Reflecting snowy peaks and spotless skies,
The chickadee that chirps at first daybreak,
Whose tune was waked by warmth of yon sunrise,

Communes in this grand sym-pho-ny of life,
The seeds of which rest gently in her nest.
From dust, they rose; amid this forest strife,
And by His plan, in dust they’ll later rest,

From ash to life, what wondrous feat is this?
How could it be, without God’s inf’nite kiss?

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Bewildered one, art not ye now convinced?
As leaf washed clean by rain can at last breathe,
So can thy mind, once thee by God evinced,
Or dost thy specious dogma ever seethe?

And dost thou have the mind to set apart?
With Man on this and Nature over there, 
Like basic shapes and lines upon a chart,
A lamentable, over-simpled error.

For Man is of Nature and so we know,
That Nature contains Man, and that is fine,
There is but one dust and we all do flow,
From God’s grand code, be it this bee’s or mine,

Is there doubt in your mind of this... after all?
Acorn and you: sep’rate paths when you fall?

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

​But surely our tech is sep’rate you say,
How can a gear be of Nature that way?
Hard angles splayed in a spok-ed array,
There’s no God in machines… you hast’ly pray,

Find thee a comb full of honey and bees, 
Or wee spider’s web, strung up in yon trees,
Wilt thou draw lines, between Nature and these,
Or state that His Plan: it comes in degrees?

But equations... oh my! Man: he hath used,
Designing these wholly unnat’ral things…
To thee I remind: Fib’nacci educed,
Seashells by God’s math, Newton: Saturn’s rings,

In sum, my dear friend, Mankind is His plan,
Too, though you doubt, are creations of Man.

​- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Imagine: hope encased within thy frame,
So full, you thought you’d never hold it in,
A love, the kind that sets thy heart aflame,
And settles all torment once held within,

Imagine: peace delivered on a plate,
Serenity of heart that’s served to eat,
An herb that cools thy temper… to sedate,
Could anything so simple be so sweet?

Now picture Yahweh beaming from a face, 
That unrestricted love of God Almight,
The root of all discord it doth displace,
While angels on thy soul they might alight,

You know now of this love that reaches me,
My wish is that it too shall be with thee.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie

Blue is this ardent ocean pounding sand, 
Polychrome sprays of my atomic love,
For you, so bright, illuming blue skies grand, 
With hope to call a blessing from above,

Blue is the sapphire sparkle of thine eyes,
Whose passion seeks the willing core of mine,
Amid the sound of these romantic cries,
To find the love we like to call, "divine,"

But blue that paints this battered, sorry, soul,
What can’t let go of thee who stole my heart,
Who sailed through this but useless young atoll,
And cut through deep blue sea to make a part,

That blue… laments the very day we met,
And begs blue night on which he will forget.

- Scott Alexander McKenzie