Since I am not inspired, my cousin, Dweebler Cramden, has consented to compose another startling poem. (He would correct me and say that it is not a poem, that he only writes verse. My mistake.)
Oh hear the drum! The neocons
Believe their Tetragrammatons
Will fool the public well.
What they don’t know: the average Joe
Can apprehend the quagmire, so
There’s nothing left to tell.
Cheney and Bush were in such a rush
To give their policies a push
(And send Iraq to hell).
This demonstrates to potentates
The power to manipulate
Is not a one-time sell.
Cheney talks from the side of his mouth.
His thoughts go east, his tongue goes south.
(His head needs no gel)
While our commander takes a gander
In all the states that do not slander
What we’re doing so swell.
Bush loves his navel, he loves to travel
He loves to pound his favorite gavel
And smile for clientele.
His self-delusion’s so complete
He lets Christ wash his dirty feet
Inside a roach motel.
A war that’s lost cannot be won
The chance of history is gone,
Broken our citadel.
But these darn fools invent the rules
They learned from all their "think tank" schools
Until we must rebel.
Get up and wave your protest flag
Against your favorite gasbag
And try to ignore the smell.
Now I don't necessarily agree with vituperous vitriol my cousin espouses, then he is also a British citizen and can't know the bounds of American civility. I apologize to any who were scandalized by Dweebler, but he would very much like to hear from anyone who enjoys his verse, especially if she is a wealthy, well-padded woman of a certain age.
(Nearly neutral but afraid to claim it--0.5 kilorats),