We live in a world that becomes Charlie Sheen
And what doesn’t matter much is where we’ve been
Little boys the successors of Fulton Sheen
And the Bishops these days remain seldom seen
While the politics takes its cues from Al Shean
The why a duck and King Peter of has been
What is not left to chance, a dancing discourse
Of the demagogue’s prance, and failing to source.
I’d like our employees to deunionize
So the rich folks might get all that they deserve
As Governor, I keep my eyes on the prize
Because if I don’t, they won’t grade on the curve
Of home schoolers present, of Colin’s old lies,
At Pete P’s discretion, my old age will swerve
To what has become of state troopers on call
At plutocrats’ bidding, or no one’s at all.
First thing a principle does is kill someone,
A 911 9 year old who sought to lead,
But lacked firepower, or choice words that would shun
All those who proclaim from conservative screed
To suggest our government demands a gun
To play up our fears, or deny those in need.
We came to this hate and they say we abhor
But election’s next year, and killing’s their core.
I feel in a time of nutjobs quite bereft
Of big anger, or of trying, seems my code
Propels me ever onwards to eager heft
Of unspoken electoral motherlode.
News cycling up and down renders me an eft
Squinting, burrowing, not quite finding the road.
Where once we drove supposing it vast unbound
Nothing passed at less than sixty, hare to hound.
The Tea Party has never been, isn’t now and will never be worth wasting any words over, except to remember that the Tea Party is just the Republican Party.
Gorilla wrote them off long ago (well, in 2007) and sees no reason to alter his judgment:
The Lame Duck Roast Is Beckoning: A Bozo Ten By Seven Spearing Song
It’s a southern white male racist party
With some stragglers from the West
Who hate gays, women, and science smarties
While the rich man is their best!
Some immigrants come upon our nation
Well, they find this party cold
Shouting amnesty’s our new creation
Made their Saviour seem quite old.
But the war on terror, hale and hearty
Never ends, so they seem blessed
No, the armor don’t fit Billy Barty
So their surge of death don’t crest.
Guess their time for ratiocination
Is when truth is never told
Like an extra bowl of Ken-Lay-Ration
Makes their SEC seem bold.
Though what’s right is left a wee bit arty
From the payoff that unfolds
Thus their family values are too tarty
For apocalyptic scolds.
Whatever happened to pure elation?
Just you wait, 3 branches dressed
In democracy’s less cross relations
Wave good bye, no more depressed!
Slimy spills of yesterday resume once more
To reconnoiter, with lessons learned again
As hard as pelicans, who in dying bore
DC consumers, across the nation spin
To loiter, while a sweeps month keeps a score
Of catching the anger, why wouldn’t that win?
In stimy thrill, a brown specked tumor might say
Deploy your plumes of damage, and shrink away.
We are a land full of posthumous degrees.
For those whose fate we can no longer control
Or animals not supporting industries
Who wash out a late someone drowning in coal
A gallon, a barrel, the scuttling of pleas
To seem overstretched, to redeem out of role
A yeardley once killed is beyond such amends
And measures the spillage while just among friends.
Moshtarak, Mubarak, they all seem the same!
A battle we don’t want, all dying in vain.
Victory defined by one dictator’s game
With allies who can’t, and the torturer’s stain.
Revenge is refined, all coruscating flame
Of fighting slant; these volunteers feel some pain,
While embedded upon Republican spree
Or Bayhnomial rant: so human rights free.
A Bozo Pastiche Song
I heard a young man speaking out just the other day;
I stopped just to listen to what he had to say;
He spoke straight and simple-but I was depressed.
He said, “Once and for all, why not regress?”
He said his name was Barack Obama and he is for now our President
And he laid out a plan of action-which had no past tense!
He talked about the government, but not how it could be for you and me
That’s the way it just isn’t right now:
Once and for all, why not regress?
He spoke like a lawyer and I began to understand
I was listening to the latest polls, talking to me
I began to see…
He’s our Jimmy Carter
He always seems to settle for less
America: Once and for all
Why not depress?
We are all light skinned with Negro dialect
What we want is leaders who are more than shit
And don’t see bankers as a befitting sect
And won’t be just wankers who want one more hit
When their heads are as high as their laps erect
We’ll say they are twinned with the losses bit.
Divorced are we now from what passes for fame
Of course our linger has no skin in the game.
