Amurca: 2004

or, Poem with a Short Shelf Life

Fundamentalist Christians
are selling anal chastity belts
out the back of the Sodomy is Sin van.
NASCAR dads are snapping them up,
$39.99, though God know what they’re doing
with metallic panties that lock a sphincter so tight
Thor’s hammer couldn’t crack them open.

They feel the double tension of attempted penetration,
automatically squeezing their assholes closed so that
nothing gets in or out—pressure wants to do both.
That’s gotta be a fag, it couldn’t possibly be the Republican dildo,
a mighty beast of vibrating lies, red as the blood of soldiers,
composed of ramrod stiff underhandedness,
decoupaged with hundred dollar bills and cheap paper flags.

Some veterans are barking their blah, blah, blah,
lies about heroes who damn well better get
the treatment they expect, which is to have more
of a voice than they are entitled to, a little grandiose
glory wouldn’t hurt either. They’re too pussy
to take criticism, think that fighting—or just serving—
absolves them of all their human flaws forever.

Radio’s boarhounds, unleashed from the gates of hell
just in time for Ashcroft’s manufactured apocalypse,
tear down every Democratic strongman that pops up
the ugly, Rovian way—attack their strengths and play
to your own weaknesses—and the dildo pushes harder.

O, Amurca, throw open your sphincters,
the corporate gods demand it! The military industrial complex
has a Tomahawk missile radar-locked on your ass anyway—
you thought it was aimed at your wallet, but it’s aimed at your vote.
Scaremongers, and a President in charge of dumbing down,
carefully crafted to be Just Like You™, with all your
advantages of breaking even; a cowboy-booted thug
with a bulging pocket, promising the fuck of your life.

(I am so gonna get flamed for this, but I don’t care. I’m just playing around with my frustration. This would be in MPSIMS, 'cept for the language. )

Wow. It’s like Tristan Tzara from Travesties had found a copy of The Village Voice.

I was gonna say it’s like Dr. Bronner, but crazier.

take off your belt. wipe. flush. don’t forget to wash your hands. :rolleyes:

With no rhyme in it,
less a poem, and more an
intricate op-ed.

presidebt, I feel sorry for you. :frowning:


You should be aware that Tomahawk missiles don’t lock onto their targets using radar.

Even really bad poetry should be factually accurate.

I know this, because I work for the military-industrial complex, myself. Just bought a new house and minivan, too. The complex pays well. :smiley:

The phrase ‘free verse’ roams freely in my head;
Iambic schemes do often cause us pain.
You say his rhyme is merely an op-ed,
Unstructur’d, coarse, an English teacher’s bane.
My rage, you see, it burns with blazing fire
At forcing syllables into this line;
The Prez, as well, that filthy goddamn liar,
And these few couplets, just a goddamn crime.
I’m running out of time, so this I’ll say:
Our nation is divided, red to blue.
I hope and pray that come Election Day
A peaceful calm will pass to me and you.

But if we’re fucked, and if we’ve all been had,
Then have a drink, and go from worse to bad.

$39.99 for anal chastity belts? Dude, you’re getting ripped off. You can order those online for, like, $25.

Thanks for the tip! I agree, too. heh.

posted by Debaser:

I didn’t think it was *that * bad. I’d hoped for mediocre for what it is, a political rant, wholly partisan, I confess. Oh well. This was just more fun than a straight political bitch thread. The good news is I’m a student, so there’s hope I might one day improve. :wink:

posted by Ino:

Her. I’m a her. JFTR. :slight_smile:

‘O Fortune!’ cries the foolish dot-com slave,
His teeth do gnash, his shirt is ripped and torn.
‘Forgive!’ he sobs, his visage less than brave,
‘O, would if only I had not been born!’
A lunch break wasted is a lunch break sweet,
Through hour after hour spent at work.
But after this, I’m feeling kinda beat -
A Swede would say, “bork bork bork bork bork bork.”
This sonnet is quite weak, I do admit;
Spenserian in rhyme it surely ain’t.
I’m running out of room, and holy shit,
I only write this bad when I sniff paint.

But listen, children, stay away from drugs:
As D.A.R.E. would say, it turns you into slugs.

(Oh, and it’s lno, not Ino.)


I’d really like to be at the meeting where the coroporate gods’ ad guys pitch this:

“See, McDonald’s current message is ‘I’m lovin’ it!’ which is good, it’s real good. It just doesn’t have the punch we’re looking for. How about ‘O, America, throw open your sphincters!’? You know, something with some real oomph? Something that will really get people’s attention!”

Umm, I believe at one point they did , at least the naval version of the T-hawk , for anti shipping , not the TLAM.


I thought it was good.

Made me cringe a lot, but not in a “Wow, this sucks” way.

Mimes, Clowns, and Poets.

Huh? BTW, maybe I’m overreacting, but it seems to associate anal sex and degradation, which is sorta offensive to me. Plus it makes slightly less sense than timecube.

Damned Harpoon-playing TASM-loving nitpickers…

Hey, stream of concious stuff has it’s place, I thought it was disjointed, angry and generally ill composed. If she did it on a whim I say hey why not? Keep posting here and people will keep telling you how bad you are. Who knows? There are some real poets here, mebbe one will stop in and give you a tip or to.

It ain’t no R Frost.