BE CAREFUL WHAT YOUR FLASK’S FOR (A Satiric Poem)

careful axe

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOUR FLASK’S FOR
(by Norman Ball)

Sequester, sequester, your axe draweth near.
Cheerleaders abound. And yet no one dare steer
’round thickets of zeroes and goodies galore
Who invented this system? al-Nusra? Al Gore?

John Boehner’s gone home to play golf and shed tears
and cry a deep river of Iron City beers.
The Tea Party totalers look to have won.
With Boehner a goner, sobriety’s done.

The fright before Xmas? That crazies might hatch
some nutty proposal to shutdown or Dash
our fiscal existence on fascistic schemes.
This Dance wouldn’t Prance through the chanciest dreams.

The scrooge in the ointment (God Bless one and all)
is how we’ll maneuver a shutdown this Fall
compounded in vain by a candidate pack
of GOP wannabes, pikers and hacks.

The truth of the matter’s their patter lacks truth.
Though late-model Rubios get you some youth
and room in the trunk for a sharp, empty suit.
Think Comets of fashion—remember the zoot?

What goes around, polls around. Cupid and Trump
keep flirting with walls on the demagogue stump.
At least Trump’s got energy. Who’ll beget Bush
whose Mommie’s turned tail on his dynastic tush?

If the Rand the Boy Blunder or Huckabee Hound
don’t float your red ballot, perhaps you’ll be down
for Carly as Marley. (No Carol’s will play).
Her chains are HP and they rattle all day.

Get Blitzed or get wasted, throw darts at the fray
or don a green smock and for Ben Carson, pray.
(Herein we’ll avoid any cheap surgeon jokes.
His scalpel’s not sharp. But at least he mends folks.)

On Donner and Blitzen. Gone Walker. Yikes Cruz
Control’s an illusion pols love to abuse.
Since heft can’t weigh in as the butt or the ass
of a sensitive joke, Christie gets a BIG pass.

So shut down the government. Open the bars.
Proffer a glass to our profitless czars.
Red noses like Rudolph’s and Boehner’s are apt
should power settle in for a long winter’s nap.

As Hunter S. warned, watch for risible scum.
(No Vixen, Pat Nixon. Her Dick though, he won.)
The scum’s been reprised, though the surnames have changed.
Still Prancing and Dancing. Still power-deranged.

Advertisements
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOUR FLASK’S FOR (A Satiric Poem)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s