UNSEEMLY TO CRASH THE WORLD ECONOMY (Cantor In The Mist, Version 3) The gracious Lady from UK, Cousin Lady Erica* cries across the ocean blues forgotten your revolution, I see a U.S. congress of heath Your liberty choir has lost its voice. Hush little Pelosi and David Obey, Much ado about *Erica: Genus for Shrubs, rigid and branched, the heaths. Or person’s name.
Lady Erica, is astounded,
wonders if the Americans are
mortgaging themselves into socialism,
borrowing the rotten boroughs of olde
flooding the land of the free with
swamp swap toxic securities,
some sort of Donnybrook
(Sherlock Holmes couldn’t solve it)
to cousin Madison and his Specters†: you’ve
lifted an old tea ship adrift
the socialist moor of recent yore,
a fog and marsh imported.
peaty, bogged down in
quasi-stimulus. Look here
you ruffians, you
petty porkers afoul,
your sheep’s in the swamp,
the cow is in your heath
Hush petty Pelosi, let Eric Cantor sing.
The sheep are simply cowering,
the corn’s not in the cow
a thirteen dollar tax cut a week
won’t feed the middle class, not
any more than pap will do it
the Shrub League players.
†A ghost or a last name: Senator Arlen Specter, one of three Republican senators voting with the Democrats.
Representative Eric Cantor of Virginia, the Republican whip.
(House minority leader, Representative John A. Boehner of Ohio).
Speaker Nancy Pelosi of California.
Representative David R. Obey of Wisconsin, chairman of the Appropriations Committee.
— Snerd Lee Limbaugh
Archive for February, 2009
Unseemly To Crash The World Economy
Cooking Gyros For Swat Valley
COOKING GYROS FOR SWAT VALLEY (Swatting Flies In Pakistan — Version 3) We used to be In my mind I see We thought In exile, my Oh the strutting about, Stand up for Swat Valley The Taliban from here in refuge Oh Pakistan,
the Switzerland of Pakistan
many orchards
much fruit
much minding.
the mulberry trees,
see much fruit, the
plum of the valley
minding apricots, damson
cracking walnuts like jewels
minding a fig leaf
a grape, the jujube
minding these and the olive tree
in my dreams of Swat Valley
like fruit flies
insurgents could be thwarted
could be swatted
restaurant work is a meditation
chopping lamb into chunks
into pieces, coalescing
thoughts for peace
charcoal broiled
hoping coalition forces will
bring a peace home, but I
am mashed chick peas
and tahini: the skeleton of
the sesame seed, fallen, my
kernel floated and crushed
feeling pasty, stuck in New York
rolling out an unfamiliar phyllo flat
with pistachios and honey sadness.
the grazing on tables where
all the world’s a
thoughtless stage, confused
the size of Delaware
the size of Swat
valley of rotting fruit
and war.
the Switzerland of Pakistan
have kidnapped
my Father, and
I work to earn a ransom, the
flowers of my Swati meadows
in my mind, my eye,
the charcoal smell of my
burnt house wafted in a nostril
for every truce I die,
while every envoy
seems to fiddle
with Shariah at the door.
— Snerd Lee Limbaugh
Swatting Flies In Pakistan 2 (edit)
Swatting Flies In Pakistan We used to be In my mind I see We thought In exile, an Oh the strutting about, Stand up for Swat Valley The Taliban from New York in refuge Oh Pakistan,
the Switzerland of Pakistan
many orchards
much fruit
much minding.
the mulberry trees,
see much fruit, the
plum of the valley
minding apricots, damson
cracking walnuts like jewels
minding a fig leaf
a grape, the jujube
minding these and the olive tree
in my dreams of Swat Valley
like fruit flies
insurgents could be thwarted
could be swatted
Obama for peace
seemed hopeful,
one making pieces of harm
come together in compromise
the grazing on tables where
all the world’s a
Joe Biden stage, confused
the size of Delaware
the size of Swat
valley of rotting fruit.
the Switzerland of Pakistan
have kidnapped
my Father, and
I work to earn a ransom; the
flowers of my Swati meadows
are in my mind, my eye
for every truce I die,
while Richard C. Holbrooke
fiddles with Sharia at the door.
—- Snerd Lee Limbaugh
Swatting Evil Flies In Pakistan
Swatting Grand Flies in Pakistan We used to be We thought An Obama for peace Oh God, Stand up for Swat The Taliban from New York Oh Pakistan,
the Switzerland of Pakistan
many orchards
much fruit
like fruit flies
insurgents could be thwarted
could be swatted
seemed hopeful,
one making pieces of harm
come together in compromise
all the world’s a Joe Biden stage
where Swat, my homeland
is the size of Delaware
the Switzerland of Pakistan
have kidnapped
my Father, and
I work to earn
a ransom with
the flowers of my Swati meadows
in my mind
for every truce I die,
while Richard C. Holbrooke
fiddles with Sharia at the door.
— Snerd Lee Limbaugh
Three Senators On Friday the 13th: Susan, Arlen, and Olympia
Three Senators on Friday The 13th A thousand pages, The Senate sits there: A thousand pages Catastrophe, catastrophe. Catastrophe, catastrophe. Hope it works as
no one’s read it.
Catastrophe, catastrophe.
Mount Olympus with Snow
that sages needn’t read.
Catastrophe, catastrophe.
Vote, vote, vote for these:
a Hog Museum, and
Hybrid Dog and Pony
from the
Grand Genetic Collider
Drink a Collins and vote
with Snow
Et tu, Specter of the Senate,
you bring us a ghost of a chance.
we all need a stimulus
and a hot dog.
— Snerd Lee Limbaugh
