Thursday, March 6, 2008

Weekly Sonnet 44

A Cheap Suit: Roy Cohn Died in It

With the consistency of santorum
your trial began by a forced destiny.
Your soul can leech with eelings full of spite.
(Kiss His hand.) I want to open myself!
I see your destruction and your labor.

Joined: for the right to be free, just to fight.
(Present and accounted for) In the sand
he drew a line with his army sabre.
“Play deguello,” I tell my marine band.

He’s not Grendel or Dobby the House Elf,
Our American Negation forum,
quell my rational Reason mutiny.
Dick Cheney
s acute, terrors acuter.
Everything that I despise (Lies!), Scooter.

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