Saturday, September 8, 2012

Convention Diary


Of course I booed the deity;
Including God was wrong.
And then I booed Jerusalem
And sang a drinking song.

I raised a glass to 44,
The savior of our times.
I cursed the reign of 43,
And cursed again his crimes.

I cheered for little Sandra Fluke,
Our finest legal mind,
Before I fired up my bong
And started to unwind.

And when our favorite, Bubba, spoke
It fired up the crowd,
He’s such a brazen, shameless rogue,
We couldn’t be more proud.

But reproductive politics
Was our convention theme,
And Charlotte was, for all of us,
A Democratic dream.

1 comment:

  1. I love the irony that you employ
    In rhymes appearing simple, clean and true.
    The treatment balks trite comments that annoy
    And makes prosaic writers feel quite blue.

    I hope that you will ever persevere
    In making banal sentiments less trite
    Encouraging your readers to revere
    Thoughts uplifting, noble, clear and bright.

    In making reference to Sandra Fluke
    The homely, would-be harlot with agenda
    You've focused on an issue with great pluck
    Should the public support habits that engender

    Out of wedlock births and STD's
    That show mental, moral physical disease.


    ~ FreeThinke


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