RICK PERRY, GOD, AND THE AMERICAN VOTER

When God looked down and saw Rick Perry

Was preaching in His name He said,

“That man is totally gooseberry

For no one knows what’s in my head.

Not even Me.”  And calling Jesus

Said, “Tell that man he will displease us

If he presumes to speak for God.”

So Jesus vanished in a nod.

And when returning, he reported.

He said all Perry did was laugh.

This pissed off God.  He said, “This gaffe

Will cost him dearly.  Make him sordid.”

No sooner said than it was done.

But even so Rick Perry won.

AN MFA IN SCREEN WRITING, A RECOMMENDATION

1

A college started its Extension

In writing, granting MFAs;

But wasn’t getting much attention

Since other schools were, nowadays,

So busy granting their diplomas.

“You’d think we’re selling carcinomas,

For all the business that we get,”

A writing teacher said.  “It’s debt

And interest that the banks are charging,”

Another said.  The Dean, fed up,

While drinking from his coffee cup,

Said, “We’ll begin then by enlarging

Our writing program.  What’s forsworn?” 

All looked confused.  “Why . . . writing porn.”

2

“But, Dean, we are a Christian college!”

“Exactly.  People of the Book.

The Bible’s full of carnal knowledge.”

And so the panel took a look.

And when they finished, they detected

The Bible stories they’d inspected,

Although it’s true they were complex,

Were all conspicuous for sex.

At this they settled in to thinking,

When one, the writing teacher, said,

“But porn’s just fucking, giving head.”

“Then what we need is interlinking

What happened with what’s apropos:

That most were scourged with a stone’s throw.”

3

Their writing program proved successful,           

Once it got passed the school’s trustees;

Who thought at first it might be stressful

To those believing porn was sleaze.

But when convinced that Bible stories

Displayed their God in all His glories,

They offered prizes for the script

That showed their God as all unzipped.

In truth was plot and conversation,

And characters that were hard-core

That stopped a porno from a bore.

From then, screen writer’s education

Began by subbing porn’s brute force

With what excited intercourse.

THE CULT OF THE AMERICAN ASSHOLE, A LIST

1

The CEOs of corporations;

The bankers who’ve sucked people dry;

The politicians of all nations

Who promise peace then shout “banzai;”

The mega-church broadcasting preachers

Who rail at numb nuts in their bleachers

And claim the Bible is a book

Shows Darwin needs another look;

The president whose one ambition

Is rendering health care for all

And sends us home with Tylenol,

And says it’s just an intermission;

Reporters from the mainstream pressed

To write what publishers want stressed;

2

The companies who pump pollution

Into our water and our air,

Then just before their prosecution

Endow a “scientific” chair

That proves these claims impossibilities,

Just theories not infallibilities;

And so a court finds it’s their right

To drill and pump to their delight.

More deaths, they say, are caused by swilling

The spirits that make people drink;

Or suicides from Facebook’s ink

Than have been caused by oil drilling.

Therefore, drill on we won’t abide

What’s far from proven cut and dried;

3

The patriots who hang Old Glory

Outside their trailers make me gag . . .

These good ole boys don’t know the story

Why other people burn their rag:

So why not start with Indian killing

That movies made so awfully thrilling;

What slavers did so long ago;

And, recently, the South’s Jim Crow;

And worse, illegal immigration:

In which they think they’ll lose their jobs

(It’s foisted on them by nabobs)

And stop this country’s jubilation

At being white.  Well that’s not bad

Since race has driven us quite mad.

(TOO LONG TO BE CONTINUED)

WHAT DOES POETRY DO?

I wish that I could write like Horace;

But is America like Rome?

Both sets of leaders’ heads are porous.

It may be leadership syndrome

That sets in when a politician

Has risen to a high position:

They all forget what they were taught

In civics so they’re easy bought.

So politicians are generic.

But what of poets?  Are they too?

Indeed.  The difference is milieu.

The Romans, closer to barbaric

Ways of life, put them to death.  Here?

You could be talking to your mirror.

ADVICE TO COMMUNISTS *

It follows from our exploitation,

No matter gender, race, or creed,

That working people have no nation

So are best placed at routing GREED.

Like capital we’re international;

Unlike it though we can be rational.

If we can put class in first place

We will arise a human race.

But only after revolutions

Have turned the world all upside down

And capital has lost its crown,

Will workers’ co-ops’ contributions

Make any sense; but then you’ll see

What turns an “I” into a “We.”

* This “poem” argues that, as Marx argued, despite all differences working people, the world over, have ONE BIG THING in common: their exploitation.  It does not mean that we are not divided by a host of differences.  But unless communists bring this ONE BIG THING to the forefront we will never have a basis for overcoming these differences. This is the special task assigned to communists.

THE AMERICAN WAY

A cleaning crew began its sweeping

When others in the office left;

A cleaner heard a cell phone beeping,

Had slipped into a couch’s cleft.

She groped it out and thought to answer;

But didn’t since she thought she’d chance her

Job and then what would she do so

She walked away and let it go.

When, later on, it still was ringing,

She answered it and someone said,

“Your stock will rise tomorrow, Ed.”
And then hung up.  She started singing.

Had thought to phone the SEC’s

Hot line.  Thought, “No. Kids' college fees.”

ECONOMIC JUSTICE (FOR A NEW LABOR MOVEMENT)

I stand for economic justice

But not the Democratic way;

For, like Obama, they will bust us,

Then laugh and say it’s A-OK.

So let’s get down to class tectonics

Of justice in our economics:

Where workers can appropriate

The profits bosses cumulate.

This follows from our exploitation.                   

(Which means that bosses really steal

What is produced by commonweal.)

And so there’s no equivocation

We’ll have to take it with a fight

So: WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!

ECONOMICS VS. ECONOMISM (FOR OCCUPIED WALL STREET)

Since capital is parasitical

On everything its workers built,

Perhaps we should get analytical

And build a party that won’t jilt

The average person’s aspirations;

But fights against debilitations,

Especially one where what we’re paid

Is just a cut from what we made.

If this sounds built on economics

Alone, and leaves all else aside,

It is.  Let practice be our guide.

So let's get down to class tectonics.

In unions people have begun

To learn that they must move as one.

MID-LIFE CRISIS

He stumbled in his mid-life’s journey

And knew he didn’t have a clue

About his ending on a gurney.

It couldn’t mean that he was through.

His life, thus far, was disappointing.

His trouble was with his pinpointing

Of where he’d taken his wrong turn . . .

When someone yelled, a new intern,

“Sir, do you have your health insurance?”

“But what was that supposed to mean?”

“Sir, you have a rupture in your spleen.

You’re bleeding out.”  Then his endurance

Gave out, as he thought in despair,

“Why did I hate Obamacare?”

A NATION LIKE NO OTHER (FOR TROY DAVIS AND NEWT GINGRICH)*

We are a nation like no other:

We are the City on the Hill

Where looking down we kill a brother;

Or anybody who’s too shrill.

Here we’re controlled by politicians

Who secretly approve renditions;

And we’re so blind we cannot see

That brother is a you and me;

Here we can execute Troy Davis

On evidence so flimsy that,

If he weren’t black, we’d smell a rat;

And we’d be shouting, “Someone save us.”

The people we should execute:

Republicans. Commence with Newt.

*THIS TITLE IS TAKEN FROM A BOOK BY NEWT GINGRICH

THE RECRUITER (IN HONOR OF THE END OF “DON’T ASK, DON’T TELL”)*

“I specialize in gay recruiting.

It’s over now: 'Don’t ask, don’t tell.'

All over, that is, but the shooting

By some who think: ‘Cold day in hell

Before I’ll let a homosexual

Be partner to me.  Ineffectual,

A man can’t get it up in bed

With someone who is not co-ed.’

I used to think that way, believing

I’d be alone and then was shot;

Until, who’s Johnny-on-the-spot,

This gay guy said he wasn’t leaving.

He humped me out and then went back

And turned the ‘rags’ to bric-a-brac.”

* NOW HOW ABOUT ENDING THE WARS

THE SUBSTITUTE

I am a teacher’s substituter

And start, almost, from day one on;

It is as if they persecute her

So that they know next day she’s gone.

The kids are savagely rapacious,

It is as though they’re born predacious.

I know if they were kids of mine

They wouldn’t act like little swine.

But subbing’s how I make my living.

It’s more like babysitting kids

Whose brains are nothing but their ids;

And ids are always unforgiving.

Sometimes when on a barroom’s stool

And drunk I think why sub preschool?

THE GARGOYLED GARDEN

A priest once had a gargoyled garden

In which he used to walk and pray.

One day a servant begged his pardon,

“A woman waits in much dismay,”

He said.  The priest, a great magician,

Replied, allowing her admission.

Received, he asked what he could do.

“Please put my son here in situ.

Watched over by your statuary.”

“But why,” he asked?  “My son’s a pol.

With his election we will fall.

He helps the world’s Great Adversary.”

But no gargoyle, however hard,

Would stand a politician’s guard.

JENEEBA EVIL *

I am a witch, Jeneeba Evil,

Can occupy what form I please;

My master, from a time primeval, 

Has ordered me to seek out sleaze.

So when I tenant any body,

I’m wondering if it’s been naughty;

And, if you have, are you averse

To suffer me to make you worse.

It is the presidential season.

But what is it you really know

About the persons in this show?

Don’t think I’m speaking out of season.

My master is so sick and tired                  

Of rounding up the pols acquired.

 *Jeneeba Evil will be making occasional appearances here to expose the workings of the politicians (of whatever kind) who proclaim that that they have our best interests at heart.

RICK PERRY’S PACT WITH THE DEVIL

My cell phone wouldn’t stop its beeping.

I knew my ex was calling me

About the money for housekeeping

And child support.  I was home free

And so decided not to answer.

I knew my daughter had a cancer

But what was I supposed to do;

And so I bid the two adieu.

It happened just as I was crossing,

Against the light, but running hard . . .

Next thing I knew my prison guard

Had picked me up and was embossing

The circle number of my hell

Where Perry voters go to dwell.

COMPASSIONATE CONSERVATISM

The night was sad, the rain was blowing,

As I walked to my home alone;

My mind was rushing, overflowing

With thoughts about my leaving Joan.

My wife’s brain suffered hematoma

And now she’s lying in a coma.

I wanted out of this deathtrap

And wouldn’t hear my friends claptrap

About the evil of my leaving.

If she had wanted me to stick

Why did she go and get so sick?

And then I stopped, stared unbelieving:

It was the devil.  “Dogs are cheap,”

S/he said.  “When sick, they’re put to sleep.”

I AM THE DEVIL AND I APPROVED THIS AD

IS GOD AN URBAN LEGEND?

The thought that god is accidental,

As brain biologists would say,

Means that our god(s) are truly mental;

Or, putting it another way,

If God’s involved in our professions

Of faith, then we have made confessions

To spirits that our brains possessed

And gave it us as their bequest.

And so began mankind’s duality  

In which a body’s on parole

While linked together with a soul.

If we would use our rationality

And made our gods a snuff film clip,

Then we could claim its authorship.

UP THE KAZOO, BABY

Democracy is just illusion.

That is, the people really rule

Is proffered as foregone conclusion

Because they taught it you in school.

You took it when you graduated

Which helped those who’d accumulated

The money used to buy your vote

So that you’d never rock their boat.

If people really ruled, democracy

By now’d have penetrated work

Where we are slaves.  It’s that bulwark

That testifies to our plutocracy.

So what the hell you gonna do?

Go home, and tube it, pop a brew?

MICHELE BACHMANN’S TROUBLE

When candidates appear caressable,

As does Ms. Bachmann, by the way;

(Except, of course, to her detestable

Mate, Marcus, who is really gay),

Then they’ve a better chance with voters

Especially men ignoring odors

Of what the woman really thinks,

No matter what she says that stinks.

Her trouble is her husband Marcus:

His hair, his clothes, his flirty pout

Who, shaking hands with men, breaks out

A boner from his fatty carcass.

He should stay off the campaign trails

And OMG his press-on nails.

DARK RELIGION

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

TEA PARTY SAYS VOTE FOR PERRY

No Bagger claims s/he’s altruistic

And wouldn’t try to save the life 

Of anyone.  But are sadistic:

And would as soon deny the knife            

You needed for an operation,

If it was had by their taxation.

Their formula is don’t get sick;

And at the same time vote for Rick.

For Perry’s made an institution

Of putting taxes on the backs

Of all who can’t afford a tax,

Then suffering their execution:

For any person who won’t pay

Must finally come to Judgment Day.

A TEA BAGGER’S DEATH

A Bagger in the late November

Of life, thought what a great mistake,

Now that his vigor’d burned to ember,

The pols had been. They would remake

A country plunged into impurity;

The ponzi scheme, social security;

And when they’d merged the church and state               

We could start over, be first rate.

But when he finally lost his pension,

And couldn’t pay kids’ college fees,

And definitely not M.D.’s,

His mind was filled with reprehension:

He thought that they should all be tried, 

Found guilty of his suicide.

THE NOMINATION FOR PRESIDENT (2012)

1

The moneyed men met in committee

There to decide the candidate

They should support: who had no pity,

When s/he became their chief of state:

To help undo social security

And send it plunging to obscurity,

Thus helping send the public trust

Into a slough of deep disgust.

When, after Bush, they tried Obama,

They quickly moved in to attack

His policy of being black;

And stirred it to a national trauma.

Republicans were their last chance

To help the world of high finance.

2

But who to choose would do them credit:

Ms. Bachmann, Perry, Romney, Newt?

They didn’t like their choices.  “Let it,”

They said, “be one who’d be a brute;

Who, when he comes down heavy-handed,

Can plead he’s done as God commanded;

And who can merge the church and state;

Decry our foes as apostate;

Who’ll take away the public pensions

So we may gather their largess

And have the country say, ‘God bless.’”

But who would make these interventions?

And so they’d let Obama win;

Then, like a snake, they’d shed their skin.

THE FAMILY THAT PREYS TOGETHER LAYS TOGETHER (FOR THE ROSARY HOUR)

A youngster who was masturbating

Was caught red-handed by his sis;

But while she watched him flagellating

She fell into a kind of bliss.

Her teenybopper’s admiration

Adored his boner’s incarnation

Of what appeared, she would have sworn,

To be the very Matterhorn.

His hand, increasing its velocity,

Had turned his face a bloody red

Until she thought he’d lose his head;

So, charging in with wild ferocity,

She pried it from his fingertips

And shoved IT in between her lips.

RICK PERRY AND THE HIEROGLYPHIC

1

Rick Perry found a hieroglyphic,

As he stepped in a men’s room stall.

He knew this was unscientific

And so he thought it folderol.

He, after all, had been to college,

Though mostly studied carnal knowledge,

But called a preacher anyway

So he could conference and they pray.

The preacher, from First Things Museum,

Said, “Rick, behold the word of God.”

To which the governor said, “ That’s odd.”

“No, Rick, it means you cannot flee Him.

It is a sign the Holy Ghost

Wants you to raze the Leftist Coast.”

2

Down on their knees, both men were praying

Outside the stall.  The door was locked.

“You see the figure.  It’s sashaying;

And how its tiny hands are locked

Around what is, no doubt, a penis

And chasing one of boy-like genus?

That is a sign that one is gay,

Which God forbids the USA.

It may be he’s a child molester

Though both of them are all undressed

And both of them are running west.

And God, dear Rick’s, a big investor

In your campaign so you should do . . .”

“When I’m elected, I’d love to.”

RICK PERRY IN THE GREEN ROOM

An hour before Rick Perry started

Debating he sat in a room;

Advisors who had been fainthearted,

And didn’t want to bring him gloom,

Began by eyeing one another

As if to say, “You’ll back me, brother,”

When finally one said to Rick,

“When this is done, let’s vamoose quick.”

And he replied, “Hell I’m Rick Perry.

I’ll know when it is time to go;

But why?  There’s no one on death row

Tonight."  “But, Rick, the fire is hairy.”

“That’s right,” Rick said.  “When we adjourn . . .

Naw.  Fuck it.  Let the mother burn.”

Revealed: Human Rights Watch Finds Secret Files on British Libyan Relations

My dear, Quaddfi,

                              Our renditions

Have proved a truly great success

With help from your expert technicians

In getting villains to confess.

We hope in this, your time of trouble,

We might suggest: hide in the rubble;

And when you find the bombing’s done,

Get out of there; we’ll help you run.

Be sure to bring your oil leases

So that we really know it’s you;

And that they’re ready to renew.

You know it always helps to grease us.

Don’t fuck with us or you’re puree.

Yours,

            MI6 and CIA.

INTEROGATION TECHNIQUES

She gotten all her information

And set her goals to interview

A criminal whose concentration

Was trained by monks in Katmandu.

She pushed her chair back from the table

And hiking up her skirt was able

To give him just the briefest glance

Of pussy but no underpants.

It worked!  He grew the hugest boner

She’d ever seen.  It was immense!

Now suddenly she’s on defense.

He asked her if she could postpone her

Interview till later on so…

She said, “And where’d you like to go?” 

A CHRISTIAN REFORMATION

Awhile ago some Christian preachers

Had noticed their attendance fell

Whenever they would mention creatures

The likes of which inhabit hell.

“Perhaps we talk too much of sinning,”

Said one.  “And not enough of winning,”

Another said.  “We make it sound

As if we’re lost and won’t be found,”

A third one said.  A sermonizer,

Who weekly rained fire and brimstone

On congregants until they’d groan,

Said, “Brothers, I’m a terrorizer;

And I’ll be damned, for what it’s worth,

They’re more afraid of hell on earth.”

THE SHOOTER

 A mile away the shooter waited;

He knew he was outside the zone

That Treasury had federated

So hovered, waiting like a drone.

He didn't want to kill the bankers

But did because he hated cankers:

The financers foreclosed on him;

His wife had left and taken Kim.

The Treasury chief stepped to the podium.

The bullet launched, flew, fell straight down

And blew apart the banker’s crown

Then cut the man in half.  No odium

Would be attached to him who shot

A man who’d ravaged Camelot.

A CIA MEMO RELEASED BY WIKILEAKS

If we released our child molesters

On unsuspecting countries that

Have now become our worst detesters,

Then they’ll reply with tit-for-tat.  

It is the perfect opportunity

To help defend our world community:

Less tolerant of human rights,

These countries kill their human blights.

It’s what we want.  We take reprisals.

We go in with our war machine

And when we're done we’re squeaky clean.

That is, we finish both despisals:  

The child molesters we abhor

And countries.  Gone forevermore.

THE GLORY HOLE (FOR THE CATHOLIC CHURCH)

The priest, a consummate professional,
Sat waiting for the high school kids

To troop into his dark confessional

And there admit to what their ids

Had done against what God commanded.

He loved it since they were so candid.

A girl came in, was blessed, and said

She’d done it here with Father Ed.

The priest heard this and almost fainted;

But when he had regained his sense

He asked her why?  “Was false pretence,”

She said.  “He claimed that I’d be sainted.”

At this the priest lost all control

And said, “But how?”  “Your glory hole . . .”

THE GETAWAY

He knew that soon he’d be arrested,

As he sat back and gave it thought;

But all his livelong life he’d quested,

As if he were an Argonaught,

To keep his money from decreasing;

And if that meant that he’d been fleecing

The government then be it so.

His plane left shortly.  Mexico,

Which had an extradition treaty,

Would claim that he had disappeared.

(He'd paid so much he was revered.)

From there he’d see how he’d proceed.  He

Would leave his billions on account

To be paid off as bodies mount.

RICK PERRY’S CREED

The creed according to Rick Perry-

Faith, Freedom, and Free Enterprise-

Is something liberals want to bury

And so should be our battle cries.

These are the pillars of society

Must be maintained against impiety;

And any Texan who is white

Will tell you that Rick Perry’s right.

So damn the Left and its blasphemers

Who’d damn the principles that he

Says are the Holy Trinity

Will free us from those taxing schemers. . .

Especially the payroll tax

On wages we pay our wetbacks.

I’M RICK PERRY AND I APPROVED THIS AD

AMERICAN EXCEPTIONALISM

The Newt is right we are exceptions:

We don’t believe in human rights;

We damn all women’s contraceptions;

We spit on gays and transvestites;

Would gainsay women an abortion;

Hold countries hostage to extortion;

Think equal pay for equal work

Is but the raving of a jerk;

Deny the rich should face taxation;

Believe that people ought to pray;

That Tina Fey goes MIA;

That gays should suffer fumigation;

But, most of all, we don’t dispute

The toxins of a man-like newt.