Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Albino Pachyderms

(From the Terza Rima epic-in-progress: "The Triumph of Strife")

White elephants sit in the living room
Like Johnson's Cyclops mother of a wife
Inhibiting the conversation's bloom

Suggesting by their presence sordid strife
Returns upon investments others made
Supported troops supported out of life

Supporting politicians in the shade
Who can't support enough to get their fill
Upon the treasury they make a raid

To profit from supporting those who kill
With such support the troops deploy once more
Their stop-loss orders telling them they will

A back-door draft supporting troops galore:
Their Raven contracts honored "Nevermore."

Supporters of the troops roll in the dough
Their carpetbagging no-bid contracts huge
It's not the what but rather whom they know

Their lobby toilet-swirl a centrifuge
That separates no quo from any quid
They figure after them comes the deluge

So better get it now and get it hid
A last-chance grab at all the graft that spurts
From under troop-supporting's toilet lid

They chant their Mammon mantra till it hurts
To grease the skids for their corrupt cohort
Out from their flapping lips their lying blurts:

"Support, support, support, support, support!
For sport for sport for sport for sport for sport!"

A "higher" father George the Worst consults
Like Jesus putting Joseph in his place
A put-down of his dad that got results

Like Mama causin' Joe to lose his face
By fornicatin' with a larger dude
Who knocked her up and left Joe in disgrace

The butt of village jokes both lame and rude
A scarlet Hebrew letter marks his shame
A cuckold branded for ineptitude

Whose ingrate stepson chooses to defame
The carpenter whose work earned him release
From doin' bidness in the earthly game

Like Zeus seducing peasant girls in Greece
Old Yahweh came on down and got a piece

Thus satisfied in his own mind he plays
With legendary myths about his birth
His limited attention span betrays

No grasp of any knowledge of the earth
But with the Big Spook coaching him at night
He feels no consciousness of any dearth

So anything, he figures, adds up right
As long as "up in heaven" Daddy grins
And says to disregard the nation's plight

For nothing that George does can count as sins
To those who never think a dumb thing odd
For all the lies and bullshit that he spins

They genuflect and kowtow to a fraud
Who swears that late at night he talks to GAWD

White elephants mean waste on scales so vast
That few can comprehend the sunken cost
Or summon any samples from the past

To illustrate just how much we have lost
But like the busted gambler who can't quit
She hopes tomorrow's sun will melt the frost

And so into the wringer goes her tit
While Betty Boops and pampered poops cavort
Like flies about an open wound they flit

In pain, the faces of our troops contort
While she supports King George and all his germs
Such rank ingratitude at their "support"!

They only hope to finish out their terms
These asinine albino pachyderms

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2006


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