Here is the amazon link that makes it easy to review and/or order any of the three books I have on Amazon. Simply click the picture of the book(s) in which you are interested.

http://www.amazon.com/R.E.-Maloney/e/B010WE29XE/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1441142145&sr=1-2-ent

The Attic Affair

We were up in a neighbor’s attic
Me, my brother and Pearl;
She said, “it’s so romantic
“Two boys and only one girl”

“I want to kiss only one boy
To see if it’s really fun
So whoever has the biggest toy
Will be the lucky one“.

Well, I was five and too confused;
My brother was six and ready
Pearl was seven and highly amused
 “Maybe I’m too young to go steady.”
                       
So, down came my knickers
And my brother Dick’s too;
Sally got a bad case of snickers
Saying, “here’s what you have to do.”

“You two take out your ding dings,
While I go find a ruler.”
Well, I was sweating bullets,
And Richard was not much cooler.

So, downstairs goes Pearl,
While our things are hanging out
Dick gives his a twirl!
Then we hear her mother shout!

“Why do you need the ruler, hon?”
I say, “Let‘s get outta here.”
Dick says, “but we ain‘t quite done”
(I’d never known such fear.)

Then we hear the foot steps from below,
And we know that isn’t Pearl;
Dick says, “quick to the window”
That’s sure no little girl!

The house was two stories high\
 Plus the attic we’re standing in;
I say, “Dick, you think we can fly?
No? Then I think we’re in trouble again”

Mom will get mad, I’m sure of that
And she doesn’t get mad very often;
But this time she’ll use her baseball bat
And we’ll wind up in Granny’s old coffin.

Well, Dick’s then saying “well, hello”
To Pearl’s very mad mommy
Who’s holding our friend, down below,
And I’m getting sick to my tummy.

“Put on your pants, kids”, she says
“This party’s come to an end
And I’ll see your mother one of these days
On that you can depend.”

Fast forward, to the end of the war
It’s the summer of forty-six’
I’m having a drink at the Tooth and Claw,
Checking the new social mix.

I haven’t seen this old town
Since the summer of thirty-nine;
But, now it’s a place of world renown,
This great old home town of mine.

I’m visiting an old friend or two;
We’ve been seated in this crowded café,
The town is filled by another crew:
Students at study and at play

Suddenly I’m seized by a female stare,
She’s sitting with two other girls;
The same mass of gorgeous blonde hair
Fixed in the same ‘thirties curls

Then she took her little thumb
Held it high over the table
I laughed until I was almost num
 My God, is she now Betty Grable?

http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Burma-Queenie-other-Poems/dp/1942728115/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1435943403&sr=8-4&keywords=Lost+in+Burma

Lost in Burma is now available on Amazon, Both in print and kindle. "A World War 2 Trilogy" will be coming along mid to late July. Reviews always appreciated. The Trilogy has been privately acclaimed, and is expected to be the best book of its type since, "From here to Eternity". Stay tuned.

Update on the books of R.E. Maloney

Good news! "Lost in Burma" is now available through CreateSpace and you can click (or, copy and paste)

https://www.createspace.com/5552797

and order. $9.77 + tax and shipping.

The book will also be available from Amazon, probably on or before July 4 (yes, 2015)

Keep checking this site for information on the other three books.

I have written three books that will be published this year. The first should be on Amazon sometime in early July. That book is about 90 pages, and titled, "Lost in Burma"/Queenie and 50 Other Poems .

From Lost in Burma:  ("Thal's Place")

But you mainly met survivors

Russians, Jews, some Sikhs;

Other Asians, here and there;

Maybe an Aussie, or couple of Greeks.

   

The place was down an alley

Off a one way street;

One used only by rickshaws

And unknown to American MPs.

It is nip and tuck as far as the order in which the other two books will be released. "A World War 2 Trilogy" is over 200 pages and the editing takes much more than do the other two books. Part 1 is in anthology form, takes place mostly in the interior of China, and runs from March 1943 to October 1945. Part two is fictional and the same characters are involved in several activities in Shanghai. This story runs from October 1945 to December 1945. Part three takes place in Germany and finds our two protagonists in various (not all legal) with Military Intelligence in southern Germany. Time span on this story is March 1946 to September 1948.

From: "A World War 2 Trilogy"

 “How long before we’re counted as AWOL?” asked Whitey. Bob told him he thought it was 48 hours, but he wasn’t sure of that. The little shack they had been locked up in was guarded by a member of Chaing Kei Sheks army, who continued to talk to them in pigeon English, and assured them that as soon as the General (not Chiang, they assumed) made sure they were not Mao’s spies, that they would be escorted back to Shanghai. Chiang, he said, didn’t want any troubles with the Americans, but there was no telling what that bastard Mao would do to take advantage of the fast 

situation. 

And from "24 A.A.. Ballads" (which consume a little over 100 pages)

The new guy looked to be quite well off,

Sharp white shirt and tie;

I knew he was dancing and laughing,

So he wouldn't break down and cry.

Paul then pulled out his wallet,

Before he even took a chair;

“Put your dough away, my friend,

Here, say hello to Ratty O'Hara”

The "24 A.A. Ballads" volume has been edited, and may be released before the Trilogy book.

    Aging                           

My gran-dotter say, how do you feel?
I say, “pretty damn gud, was’ de deal?
She say you pushin’ big nine-o
I say, hon, is not good time to go
Is a cupel mor’ years befor de big keel!
        And,
My VA quack sez my BP’s high
Too much salt, he sez, tha’s why
He say, any day I catch a stroke
(And I don’t tink this old fart joke)
I say, OK, I give a try.
        I hear,
War mart sell BP machine, OK?
I dink is fifty I have to pay
Get it home, looks easy to do
Holy scheissen, ---one eighty two!
And you dink you had a crappy day?
        So,
Da VA put me on a cell phone leesh
I gotta call and speak my piece;
“Did you take you meds today?”
Then, “punch in one, or you can say,
Yes or no”, (this way they teach)
        Lady say,
Like “’tro your sal’ shaker oud da trash”
I say to phone, “go kiss my ass”
Any way, I ‘trow out de soups
Dey in de lousy sodium groups
She say, all good stuff, I gotta pass.
        Take,
Gravy, ice cream; all gotta go
And, no more salt, on de boil potato;
He say, “eat oatmeal, every day”
I say , “you wanna live dis way?”
He say, “is up to you”, and I say “hell no”
        Then,
‘Bout two AM, I come wide awake
Big toes stiff like garden rake
I get outta bed, but pain too much
Fall down de floor, try to touch
My toes; maybe give good shake.
        OK
Finly gat up but not so far
Got to gat to de friggin’ car;
Gat far as de sofa, better rest
Try to tink wha’ might be best
Maybe call Corky; he ain’t far
        And,
Was last I think, before I doze,
That no good, ‘cause I suppose,
It middle of nite, all guys asleep
So I pass out, wid out a peep
Not dinkin’ about de big hot toes.           
        Now
Is sis oclock and de sun she shining
And wid it I’m see-in a silver lining;
My toes are all like dey was before
My old skinni ass hit de dam floor
So now, dear God, can I quit dis whining?       

INVICTUS PLUS


Out of the night that covers me,
    Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
    For my unconquerable soul.

        Friends that have gone before me
            Taught and led me in many ways;
        Sufferings shared, friendship free,
            Eyes that spoke through tobacco haze.

In the full clutch of circumstance
    I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
    My head is bloody, but unbowed.

        Pain is pain, and we know its wrath,
            But finite in it’s wanderings
        (Voices whisper, “careful in the bath”)
            Also in cleaning; especially in laundering.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
    Looms the horror of the shade
And yet the menace of the years
    Finds and shall find me unafraid.

        And ahead, coming slowly, the unknown
            Final answer to an un-asked question;
        Like the toppling of the over grown
            Comes the answer to our indiscretion.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate.
I am the captain of my soul.

Where Are You?

“Hi, jus leevin Dunkin
Gotta run, tk in morn.”
“Lyin basta, U over at Lenas
Watchin more stupid porn.”

Reggie shook his head, and
Hit the button to End;
Thinking’ “why do I do this
To another good old friend.”

That was a dozen texts ago;
They trailed him around all day;
 Half sent silly pictures
One sent a message, “let’s pray.”

Reg remember being so excited
The day he got his pad
Who knew he’d never read
Another good book---how sad!

One of these Days

“One of these days”
Get’s closer all the time;
Some organ or another
May just stop on a dime

Your balance is lost
At the top of the steps
(Do you remember
When you counted reps?)

Ever heard of people
Who went to bed?
Saying, “fuck it!”,
And woke up dead?

But, the humidity is down,
The sun is shining;
The Sox won again
So, why am I whining? 

Women and Men

Women like to have babies,
Men like their wars; 
Women like to cook and clean
Men love breaking laws

Women like their Facebook
Men like to watch the game
Women like to dress and shop
Men like things the same

Women like to be wanted and loved
It’s just as simple as that;
So how lucky can you get, Son;
You don’t wear the other hat

At least two Republican “lawmakers” have compared the Affordable Care Act (Obama Care, to you who have just returned from Mars), in a way that equates President Obama to Adolph Hitler and National Socialism. This, they say, because, “didn’t National Socialism (Nazism) start when the Nazis institute National Health Care“?. I care less whether these rattlesnakes want their constituents to have access to affordable health care. That’s their problem, and I assume those idiots that voted for you will do so again!

But, what you people are doing is burying, in crap, the people who saved this country 65 years ago. Yes. Like me; and more so like the more than 300 buddies I graduated High School with in 1942 that are buried in Europe or some Pacific Island, That you have the nerve to compare our service (mine was from March 1943 to September 1948) to a national law, a piece of legislation, and effort to get millions of people into doctors’ offices instead of half-staffed hospital emergency rooms, is a disgrace and the worst form of blasphemy

The fact that kids about ten and twelve years old read these pages, keeps me from calling you something more dramatic than “scum”, which is the very mildest description of what I really know you to be. You are wearing your closet racism all over your white shirts.

 The Corner of Medford and Sycamore  

    One corner of Medford and Sycamore.
    Had a broken down shack of a variety store;
    Luckies were two for a penny then;
    Thank God, I couldn’t buy many then;
    I’m almost glad I was poor!

    But, Somerville, Mass. was really a gas
    Before Hitler and Tojo showed up;
    Corners at twilight, bread was a nickel
    But the world was about to erupt.

    Across the street was the corner of choice,
    Where the nightly editions lay;
    THUD, off the back of a newspaper truck
    Quick! How’d the Sox due today?

    The cop on the corner of Medford and Sycamore
    Was a guy I remember so well
    We called him Officer Powers
     And he loved us kids, you could tell!

    The corner was always crowded
    At eight, and again at three;
    That’s when kids were coming and going
    To the Foster School, you see.

    Sometimes our policeman would put up his hand
    And ten cars would squeal to a stop
    While Officer Powers put some kid on his shoulder
    And crossed the street hippity-hop.

    About five, or six, as evenings got on
    It was the teens and guys time to boast;
    Sharing their day, talking about Foxx
    And this Williams kid, up from the coast

    What might  Louis  do to Schmeling?
    The next time these fighters met;
    Could Cronin turn the Sox around?
    The older guys said, you bet!”

    Did you see who took the sixth today?
    Some nag from upstate New York;
    Now, if the fix wasn’t in on that one;
    I’ll swim back to County Cork.

   Then one morning everything stopped
   It was Monday, in a cold December;
   Pearl Harbor had been bombed, the navy sunk
   Would the corner cry, guys get drunk?
   Someone said, “We’ll remember!”




   Every one of my guys on the corner
   Fought somewhere in a foreign land
   Half came back, half got killed
   Do the new guys understand?
 
.


   

The Realist Priest

    Father Casey said, “I’m getting tired”,
    Telling his dad his woes.
    “My Bishop says I could get fired
    Even my mistress knows”

    Well, if it’s only money, Mike
    I might have a good idea;
    Might even get you promoted;
    And get you out of here.

    That Sunday morning after Mass,
    Father Casey addressed his Clan:
    All parishioners would get Last Rites
    Early, on a monthly payment plan.

    Not only that, he went on to say,
    We can put a rider to the deal;
    With a guaranteed, pre-paid, burial
    In our own little lily field.

    Well, the Bishop showed up
    The following day
    And now Father Casey’s
     In Zimbab-ee-we

Nice Weather? (April 2012)


Middle of April, not a cloud in sight;
The motels call it
A tourists’ delight.
But some are afraid;
That it just ain’t right.

85 in Boston and not a cloud in sight
The fans at Fenway
Scream with delight.
As the homers fly off
Into the hot spring night.

At the top of the poles, not a cloud in sight
And the ice caps are melting,
Polar Bears taking flight;
When will we ever learn?
When will we ever learn!

Our Nurses

Wan big tuffes’ job,
In all ‘dis crazee worl,
Whether you big Russian guy
Or wee little Irish gurl.

Is standin’ on your feet all day
At a shaky nursy station
Pounden ‘lil pills to dust
An wachin; 30 pations

All de while she got in mine
Another can soon be gawn
An she’ll be doin’ paper work
And tryin’ not to mawn

She luv them all pretty much you see
Dere’s no time to relax
And she has no time to tink aboud
Wah dis Romney guy pays in tax!

If anyone is remotely interested, here is the link to my eBay listings. (Mostly rare books and odd-ball ephemera)

http://www.ebay.com/sch/bosoxmal/m.html?_ipg=50&_sop=12&_rdc=1

United States Debt: Big Deal?

While the Republican Party disintegrates before our eyes, their “message” continues to focus on how much we owe, (and they fill their committee chairman seats with White Men--exclusively!) Sure, it’s a lot nicer to have a surplus than it is a debt but:

If you could borrow as much money as you want (let’s say on a 5-year fixed rate) at 0.7% (yes, that’s ZERO POINT SEVEN) do you think it might be a good idea to fix that damn roof, and invest in the kid’s college while you can do it?

I would. (Maybe my little cutie will marry Bill Gates grandson and buy me new villa in Palm Beach!)

Voila!

Not all hypocrites are bad people. I had a boss (he fired me because I took a lady friend to a Las Vegas conference, even 'though I paid her way), who got on a "Buy America" kick back in the late 60s, early 70s. He dumped his Mercedes and bought a  Mustang which fell apart in about a month. All the while beating the druns for "Buy America", he was killing himself chain smoking Turkish cigarettes. A few years later he sold his hi-tec business to a new group of raiders from Japan. The number of employees dropped from about 500 to about 150!

Mr. D diad a year later from the cigarettes (and scotch), but he was a nice guy anyway; just happened to be a hypocrite.

Queenie

Whitey saw the girl in a bamboo cage,
Her chin at rest on her knee;

He thought she looked familiar
And said. “I guess I’d better go see”.

Sure enough, that was Queenie, all right,
His “friend” from the Cling Ting Café

The one who stood about 4 foot ten;
(Whitey was six foot three)

Well, Queenie spoke a little English
But, to Whitey, she acted dumb

And like she didn’t know him
She was quiet, still; almost numb.

Then a Chinese guard with a pole came along,
Which he pushed into the cage

And he growled as he started poking
Which sent Whitey into a blind hot rage.

The Chinese guy was Queenie’s size
Maybe five feet one, no more;

And Whitey hit the guy so hard
It broke the little cage door.

Queenie came out like a shotgun blast
With nary a “thank you please”

And while I was watching her disappear
Here come the f****n’ MPs

And while they were cuffing Whitey
And getting names and such

Whitey said, “Maybe you can find her, Bob;
Tell her I’ll be in touch.”

Two nights later at the Cling Ting Café
I spotted her through the haze

I sidled up close, and said, “Queenie, Hon,
Poor Whitey got 30 days.”