BECKY BARNETT! (Treason Jingle)
I am conflicted. One guy, the incum-
bent (well, not really (it’s complicated:
the Old Guy (Two Thousand Three election,
(the lesser of two conservatives) I
wasn’t there to cast mine) his attention
is elsewhere)) is the Republican choice.
The party appears to me as some wed-
ded monarchies and no other thing (why).
William S., the official songwriter
of Cadillac with Phil Collins-y voice.
How lucky to not, after the mushroom
arrest, be disbarred. I’ve seen signs azure,
red and white. Character Counts! Hope (in throngs)
he’s too busy to write more sappy songs.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Weekly Sonnet 24
The New Set
Ugly was not the word, looking at it.
Plinko and the Big Wheel are much the same.
Drew, for Sarah Silverman goes bluer,
Attired not in the Rockabilly bit:
Ties thin like a Barker’s Beauty. A shame,
Etoiles last no longer than forty. Grand
Dots consume a whole wall the color of
A lamé dress. Now: models wear sequins,
Dots: maroon shine less in cameras newer.
Etoiles: Liza pushed in retinas: pins.
Carey not as frail as a sickly dove
Allows hugs more freely, his horned rims and
Dots voit ton chouette gagnes et joi dans les
Etoiles. More ethnic beauties: better days!
Ugly was not the word, looking at it.
Plinko and the Big Wheel are much the same.
Drew, for Sarah Silverman goes bluer,
Attired not in the Rockabilly bit:
Ties thin like a Barker’s Beauty. A shame,
Etoiles last no longer than forty. Grand
Dots consume a whole wall the color of
A lamé dress. Now: models wear sequins,
Dots: maroon shine less in cameras newer.
Etoiles: Liza pushed in retinas: pins.
Carey not as frail as a sickly dove
Allows hugs more freely, his horned rims and
Dots voit ton chouette gagnes et joi dans les
Etoiles. More ethnic beauties: better days!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Weekly Sonnet 23
Colónoscopy
How westly did you come and pox us so!
And no east did you find; Magellan did, died.
An age of Reason (Not at all. But, but
but you keep hangin’ round me and I’m not
so glad you found me.) Issy lives wildly,
the reign in Spain gains tamely by the aim.
On Saint Mary and child, princess of woe!
The world is expanse, the ocean is wid-
er. An old steak sits better in my gut.
Now sodium benzoate prevents rot.
China trades US tainted products snidely
taking the lead, the power without shame.
See the altering, those who have the least.
(A rich, young man who would become a priest.)
How westly did you come and pox us so!
And no east did you find; Magellan did, died.
An age of Reason (Not at all. But, but
but you keep hangin’ round me and I’m not
so glad you found me.) Issy lives wildly,
the reign in Spain gains tamely by the aim.
On Saint Mary and child, princess of woe!
The world is expanse, the ocean is wid-
er. An old steak sits better in my gut.
Now sodium benzoate prevents rot.
China trades US tainted products snidely
taking the lead, the power without shame.
See the altering, those who have the least.
(A rich, young man who would become a priest.)
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Weekly Sonnet 22
Adventures in Misanthropia
Siam (if you thought Iran was so far
Away) in trouble inconstant t’appelles.
Vous avez nos penses. (What a nasty mess!)
Evil to take away your webs (intar-),
Orwellian is its consumptiveness.
Understand, Culture is focussedly id
Right now, readying the Quarter Four Push.
My, my, my, Taylor: queen bee, the highest
Yellow, but when provoked a streaming well
Arrives: such fitting aid in the arid
New Mexico climate, and in the Bush
Model. How No Child Left Behind (or pest).
Agema would gladly shoot you little
Ragamuffins in the face, the spittle.
Siam (if you thought Iran was so far
Away) in trouble inconstant t’appelles.
Vous avez nos penses. (What a nasty mess!)
Evil to take away your webs (intar-),
Orwellian is its consumptiveness.
Understand, Culture is focussedly id
Right now, readying the Quarter Four Push.
My, my, my, Taylor: queen bee, the highest
Yellow, but when provoked a streaming well
Arrives: such fitting aid in the arid
New Mexico climate, and in the Bush
Model. How No Child Left Behind (or pest).
Agema would gladly shoot you little
Ragamuffins in the face, the spittle.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)