Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.

Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****.
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.

Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.

Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.

Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.

Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.

Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.

He was the meanest kid on the playground
If the kid he picked on was half of his size.
He abused his playmates if they were weak
Had freckles or wore glasses on their eyes.
He was not a handsome lad in any way.
It was almost like he took it out on the world
That none of the guys wanted to play with him
And he seldom got lucky with the girls.

There was the slightest hint of intelligence
But it was always of the devious kind.
Nobody ever thought this kid would turn out
To be the type to make fortunes with his mind.
Taking little kids lunch money from them
Was why he even went to school each day.
If he looked a bit older and wasn’t lazy
He might just have hid out and run away.

He didn’t play ball or do any kind of work
And his mom waited on him hand and foot.
You could tell when he reached legal age
He’d find a woman who would follow suit
And treat him like a six foot baby brat
As if he was a gift to the whole world.
Of course he was in luck there because
It’s easy to hook up with  that kind of girl.

At work he will call all the women sweetie
And soundly slap his cohorts on their backs.
He’ll always remember his boss’s birthday
It pays to keep the important things on track.
If he can block a promotions of co-workers
Who are not Caucasian and Christian,
He will stick to his hidebound beliefs
And stick to ideas of The Dominion.

And if this reprobate ever has children
They will grow up to be just like him;
They’ll subject siblings and playmates
To their own temperament and whim.
Because bullying is passed by parents
From their parents to their own children.
And bullying adheres to no rules about
Morality, propriety, intelligence or wisdom.

(Warning: this poem is not for the religiously inclined.)

For centuries, entrepreneurs
Have been selling slivers
Of the True Cross of Jesus
Promising how much it delivers.
Of course, if they were any part
Of the real True Cross at all
The weight of all that wood means
The cross was thirty feet tall.

Still, it is only meant to be
A symbol of The Son Of God
Who got murdered and transformed
Into a deity, but that's odd.
It’s like all the Romans making
A ****** dagger their sign
Of the purity of Julius Caesar;
Revered if not quite divine.

Or maybe worshipping the bullet
That killed Kennedy or King.
Are we sure that kind of devotion
Is the right way to the right thing?
But fonts full of holy water did
The trick for many centuries.
So, maybe the faithful don’t care
About ecumenical vagaries.

Yet I don’t hold much hope out
For businesses of spirituality
Who put up golden castles
In zones of the most abject poverty.
Anyone who thinks a god
Needs to look down on glitz
Promises not much more
Than a dogma from the pits.

We need to celebrate what we have
And not so much what is lost.
What has all the jewels and gold
And superstition added to the cost?
I prefer to keep my integrity and
Check out who’s the real boss.
Knowing that it might upset those
Who get weepy about a cross.

One night in December,
The streets were army gray
And hurrying strangers
Rushed home for the day.
Nimble legged salesmen
Sold flowers by the street
And rhythm was the rumble
Of voices cars and feet.

The young were dressed for parties
Some sang with radios
And over-friendly women
Assumed their favorite pose.
Trashcan colored beggars
Searched gutters with their hands
While uniforms saved sinners
With sermons songs and bands.

Patrolmen sang the pop songs
From slowly cruising vans
As nighttime changes faces
Pushers change their plans.
The movie marquee lightning
Put movement to the sound
As nameless children squabbled
For pennies they had found.

Uptown they're making movies
For Hollywood L.A.
They listen to the sirens
Downtown far away.
The Civic Center phantoms
Are easy to forget.
Folks simply close their eyes
And they haven’t seen them yet.
They haven’t seen them yet.

Our God is really excellent
At death and genocide.
How we love to celebrate
How many folks have died.
We always feel better about life
And the wonderful heavenly joy
When we’ve murdered some foreigner's wife.
Or when we put to death girls and boys.

It is so commendable of humans
To execute those who are different
Or if they commit the cardinal sin
Of being some kind of sick dissident
Who refuses to do what we want
Like maybe lying down and acquiescing
Or refusing to shut up and play along with
Our political posturing and window dressing.

And is is all sacred and very holy;
Every bit of it is hidden by claims
That all genocide and bigotry
Is committed in our God’s name,
Unless the genocide and prejudice
Is directed anywhere near us.
The we whip out our Bibles and cry
And make a self-righteous fuss.

The Golden Rule applies to all
Except heathens and non-Caucasians.
And then it’s a noose, SWAT team or
At least an *** for every occasion.
Because killing people is terrible;
It is simply not the proper way
To deal with all of life’s issues,
Unless we want to, then it’s okay.

And all of it is by The Good Book
If the right verses are selected.
The American Bible is written to insure
The right people are not neglected.
And everyone should worship
And join the Living God’s legions
And be exactly like he lived life:
A blond-haired, blue eyed Norwegian.

Love me as much as a supermodel
At least as much as the Super Bowl
As much as a tax-free bonus
A royal flush with an ace in the hole.
Love me as much as keg beer,
On a vacation in the tropics;
As much as a Lamborghini.
Or any other guy topics.

Love me as much as pinups
Of mammalian girls on cars.
Love me as much as running backs
And other famous sports stars.
Love me as much as sleeping late
And breakfast in your bed.
Forget about big busted babes
And love just me instead.

Love me more than blue jeans
And excessive highway speed.
Love me more than days off
Home-made beers and ****.
Love me more than basketball

Jackals  and *******
Clowns and criminals;
Lies and libelous lambastes
With integrity minimal.
Grande Guignol politics
From pusillanimous politicians
Poisoning the populace
With only selfish ambitions.

Sleight of hand shysters
And self-appointed diplomats
Throw out all their morals
And set out the welcome mat
For those the most likely
To pay the highest bribe
And have no care if they sell
The land from under the tribe.

So what if water is poisoned?
As long as they make money.
After all, the rich aren’t harmed.
Now isn’t that incredibly funny?
Who cares about the future?
What matters is right now
And the profit they can make.
It is what the law will allow.

And those that wrote those laws
So cleverly and quietly confused
The very people stupid enough
To so gullibly to be thus used.
But jackals and *******
Really aren’t animals at all.
Nor are they household pets
Who come when they are called.

I cry beware, there's danger there,
But nobody is listening.
I raise my voice and twist my face.
There are tears glistening.
I can see it coming like an ugly beast.
Why the hell can't they smell it at least?
This is going to be like a four-year tsunami,
But sadly, one that won't go away.

All the things we know to be destructive
Are waiting in the wings.
The freedom of us and our nation
May not survive this thing.
While promises of greatness resonate
The putrid smell of recent history
So impatiently waits the doom
While fools bemoan their misery.

The train wreck of modern life
Reverberates in the ears of the wise
And distractions abound in media
While lies are waved before the eyes
Of those loo lazy to leave the couch
To vote or attend meetings or speak;
To stand up for the rights they have
Or find the peace they say they seek.

The national criminals are thrilled
Meanwhile, we are trained to wail
And call evil names about trivia;
About things like someone’s email
And who stands or sits at a game,
Or who is fornicating with who
While, for some, there is nothing
Too immoral some other person can do.

It's hard not to get angry
At the cricket in the closet
During repeated ratatats
Of the rain on the roof.
Relying on the radiator
Ramboing the reluctance
Resident in the rafters.
Warm winter wishes
For a will of the wisp winter
Waken to wisdom
Rather than rash reminiscence
And rootless resentment.

Bountiful blankets build
A buffer and bulwark
Against my acrimonious
Admonitions assailing
The ghastly gods of nature,
That get together and muster
A team of terrifying titans
That have twisted spring
Into a frozen thing
To, like last year, once again
Punish the thin-skinned.

I won’t leave my toes out,
My piggy toes or my snout
Where a breeze can tease
Or threaten to freeze
From nails to knees.
Oh, please. This one night
Do it right, heed my plight;
Some unspoken vow to keep,
To let a chilly soul sleep
Else I shall weep
In a winter this deep.

I wish you all the happeiness
I wanted for myself and more.
I wish you find that one person
You can appreciate and adore.
I wish you songbirds at dawn
And cool breezes at night
I hope all your fondest dreams
Will turn out to be just right.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I wish you romantic dinners
And walks along the river
Under twinkling skirts of stars
And long, loving talks together.
I wish the joys one finds in love
And being close to each other.
I wish you mutual respect
And that it goes on forever.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I wish you what I'm sure love is,
Which is that I want for you
That all the best should happen
And my wishes will come true.
I wish you all the best of life,
And the heaven it can be.
I wish wondrous days for you,
I just wish it were with me.

If wishes were waterfalls
And dreams were butterflies
I would want them all for you
Unfolding before your eyes.
If love could make magic
I would say the secret words
And grant you everything
The moment they were heard.

I’m not going to make money by
Creating some clever gadget.
That costs too much for advertising
To fit in my future budget.
I’m not going to write a book yet
Because they are hard to sell.
I decided against self-help seminars.
Sitting through those is hell.

I’m not going to learn hairdressing
So I can be a pricey hair ******.
I’m not going to write recipes to show
A hundred ways to use a blender.
I ruled out auditioning for **** flicks
I’m far to shy for all that.
I won’t be trying to make viral videos
Of adorable fuzzy little cats.

You won’t be hearing any hit songs
Written by me, myself and I.
I can’t carry a tune and can’t rhyme
So, right away I won’t even try.
I can’t paint and I can’t draw at all
So, I won’t be a world-class artist.
I won’t become a rocket scientist
In math I was never the smartest.

I'm not going to start some con game
And leave them all in the lurch.
Well, in a manner of speaking I am,
Because I'm starting a church.
I’ll spend tons of money on my home
And make a big flashy cathedral
Then spend lots of time bragging
How it’s all so very spiritual.

People will send me lots of cash thinking.
That will get them into heaven.
I’ll make more money selling God to them
Than owning a thousand 7-11s.
I’ll only need to convince my followers that
I have the get-out-of-hell-free card;
That I am the path to understanding God
And that just can’t be that hard.

Christ, religious people are boring,
Just like the nutsos in the street.
Half the time they start me snoring
So I run away in abject defeat,
Because reason can’t get through
A wall of defensive superstition
Which gives us back nothing but
Mumbo jumbo to every question.

If the neighborhood catches fire
It is only but a holy God’s will.
(It would be great we victims had
A place we could send God the bill.)
When innocent children die off
Is that what a loving God wanted?
That "God sees the sparrow" stuff
Gets rather quickly blunted.

What kind of wrathful *******
Lets genocide have a field day
And doesn’t make widespread disasters
Permanently dry up and go away?
If God created all of us people
In his own best saintly image,
He sure must be an ugly sod who
Needs to go back to scrimmage.

If a country had a dictator
As capriciously vicious as him
It would surely trigger worldwide
A call for a God with better whims.
For thousands of years now, it seems
People have been issuing prayers
To some kind of entity at large
That is constantly taking us nowhere.

Maybe it is exactly as possible
That this whole show is erroneous
And the big guy on a cloud is fiction
Made up out of fear and just bogus?
Isn’t this just some cave-dweller dream
To explain what folks found frightening?
Should we be running our world today
By ideas of folks afraid of lightning?

Don’t believe when humans tell you
Kitty fairies aren’t for real.
They exist and we can see them
No matter how you humans feel.
We, as kitties, use our brains
To protect and defend us all.
We can see things you can’t
And we can hear their fairy calls.

Kitty fairies think they’re clever;
That no one else can see them,
But we cats are on our guard.
Sort of like fuzzy policemen.
We stand prepared to whip them;
They won’t get by with a thing.
We consider them rather like
Nothing less than pests with wings.

But they messed up by coming
Into our own personal territory.
When we get one in our paws
That will end their silly story.
We might play with them a bit
For the first couple of laps
But after that, we will sing
The kitty version of ‘Taps’

So, if you see us sitting calmly
Then suddenly we leap right up
And chase around rather wildly
And knock over your coffee cup,
It’s because we can see them
Some flitting fairy on the wing.
That you can’t see kitty fairies
Doesn’t really mean a thing.

You’re doing it again
So get yourself prepared.
You’re moving into the future
So, do not be scared.
You’ll be a year older so
We’ll get out the old jokes.
You can take it because
It’s love from great folks.

We’ll sing the usual songs
And by all means have a cake.
Bring on your birthday cheer.
Let’s do whatever it takes.
Maybe go out dancing
And have a lot of smiles
Like it’s not the age the tires
It’s all about the miles.

And of course quips
About being over the hill.
Somebody always makes one
And it seems they always will.
But others will remind you
That you don’t look that old
As they check you for wrinkles,
And gray hair and mould.

Let’s have great good fun
And all at your expense
Because it’s traditional
And only makes good sense
We always make those jokes
When others had a birthday
So now it’s your turn as you’re
Having another birthday today.

Gratitude may have nothing to do with latitude.
It may, but it can pull you out of sad lassitude.
If we are lucky, it results in some kind of beatitude
Felt in welcome happy waves of great amplitude.

Those who repeatedly fail to be grateful
May find their lives unfortunately fateful.
And those whom insist on being disgraceful
May probably end in the mud with a face full.

Many folks exist with morals all eschewed
Not often enough that do so end up *******.
But maybe with their karma thus imbued
They’ll sicken hearing their opinion booed.

While to some it is easy to be disdainful,
Especially those who live without a brain full,
And those to whom greed is the main pull,
Let’s all hope their daily lives are painful .

Now we know how the fools are wooed
We should take steps to not come unglued
And band together when times get rude
And not elect those from a defective brood.

Those who repeatedly fail to be grateful
May find their lives unfortunately fateful.
And those whom insist on being disgraceful
May probably end in the mud with a face full.

When I’ve gone to my reward
And finally my tale is told
Folks will gather and hopefully say
He died of being old.

When under the influence of drink
I might have died of driving my car
Or that time I hit on a local cop
In what I thought was a gay bar.
I could have died taking some drugs
Some stranger gave to me one night
With some of the junk going around then
I would have gone down without a fight.

And when I’ve gone to my reward
And finally my tale is told
Folks will gather and hopefully say
He died of being old.

I tailgated, I walked dark streets late
I had a smart mouth, unwise and loud.
I ignored good advice to my misfortune
Because I was too callow and proud.
I might have bought the whole farm
By sneaking texting while I was driving.
So many times I stacked the deck
Against myself ultimately surviving.

And when I’ve gone to my reward
And finally my tale is told
Folks will gather and hopefully say
He died of being old.

Easy Beach
I’m playing here today
Easy Beach.
It’s where I want to stay.
Where the sea and sand are brothers
And they play so well together
And let me play
With them all day,
Serenity is in reach
Here on Easy Beach.

Easy Beach
Has so much to say
Easy Beach
You’ve blown me away
With your softly murmured mumbling
Like the earth and my soul rumbling
Speaking to each other
Both of them together
Both sound and vision
Grant me permission
I almost hear it preach
Stay on Easy Beach.

Easy Beach
My troubles are behind me
Easy Beach
You treat me oh so kindly
So many gifts from the sea to me
Seashells and driftwood artfully
Gather here at my feet
Every single one a treat
If I choose to see it that way;
A shoreline of treasure
Truly without measure
Here on Easy Beach.

Some will call you names
Let them call you what they want
It doesn’t make them right to shame
It doesn’t make them strong to taunt.
It just makes them bigger fools,
And for that we all grieve.
That they don’t play by the rules
That they profess to believe

Some days bring us rain
Other days will brightly shine.
Sometimes the cookies burn
And others will come out fine.

We all know people who cry
If other people get more than they
Who find fault with almost anything
Some other people have to say.
It seems to be a lifelong thing
Said by overgrown adolescents
Crying because someone else got
What they wanted as a present,

If we never learn to count the ways
That we have had good fortune
How can anyone ever clearly tell
The butterfly from the cocoon?
How can we not look at the moon
And then enjoy a starry night
If we spend our time in tears
That somebody else isn’t right?

Some days bring us rain
Other days will brightly shine.
Sometimes the cookies burn
And others will come out fine.

Happy naked holidays
For those who are so inclined
The world would be better
If no one would really mind
That people go to the beach unclothed;
Bring a volleyball and play
Or picnic in the park in the ****
On any lovely sunny day.

The same with all the holidays
They're for each of us to celebrate
In whatever way each may choose
Their philosophy to demonstrate.
Because after all isn't naturism
A way of worshipping creation?
How could it be proper then
To label it just a deviation?

So have very Merry Holidays
Of the very nakedest kind;
As that's the way you were created
Nobody should really mind.
Happy Easter merry Christmas
And happy Thanksgiving too.
So happy naked holidays
To each and every one of you!

Dyslexia, mixed messages
Everything so confusing
Susceptible to misusing;
A 'B' becomes a 'D' instantaneously
And screws things up simultaneously.

A short trip from insanity to inanity.
Fiscal confuses with physical
Turning laudable into laughable
So quickly eyes can't disguise
Whether one means the skies
Or perhaps one means this guy's.

If read, confusion and contusion
Seem like quibbling over siblings
But things like read and read
Only different when they're said
Take un-signalled turns in the head
And instead come out backward,
Which should be spelled backword.

Muddling and confuddling resides
Issuing thundering broadsides,
Rendering and sundering any
Blundering inadept ineptitudes
Like some kind of garbled beatitudes.
Some take hostile attitudes.

Wheedling and wheeling away
Beetling and saying it wrong;
Maybe a song can be written
And some tongues can be bitten,
Taken aback by words taken back,
As the Raven said "Never more!"

If you asked if I would skinny dip
You would have hit it on the nose.
But that was back when I was still
Rather attractive without clothes.
Now I don’t go around naked
As long as it is in my power.
I’ve gotten so fat and wrinkly
I wear ****** even in the shower.

I’m not kidding around a bit
When I talk about this aging stuff.
I not only don’t look so ****
When I walk around in the buff,
There are certain types of clothes
I do much better to avoid wearing;
Me in sweat pants or leggings
Is not a sight I enjoy sharing.

I’ve begun to look a bit like
Laundry that is not quite dry.
I’m not much surprised by this
Because I understand why.
I have been around a long time
And have enjoyed my ice cream
But it makes one into a pudding
And makes other people scream.

It’s just not a good idea these days
To show of what time has done.
There are such things as hotties
But I know for sure I am not one.
You know those Botox babies
You see on the Hallmark Channel?
Notice how they don’t look like
Their faces are made of flannel?

Well, I’m not into all that stuff,
That reconstructive surgery.
I don’t expect to look today
Like an escapee from a nursery.
I just make wardrobe choices well
Bearing my current self in mind.
I look upon some of it as wise
And some of it as me being kind.

Kaincha tok normal, ever sangle wunnaya?
Omina tellya diss. Nuthin lie kat is good.
Alla us oiz tok English good allatime
Ever day uhda world in mah neighborhood.

Us is sum, y’know, good tokken people.
Yeah, ain’t nobuddy speaks good lie cuss.
Lessen there from round here, ah mean.
We got eddycated good, no muss, no fuss.

We don’t need no college, no way Jose.
We gunna do jess lock are parents did.
We go to school every day till eitghteen
Jess lock dey did win dey was a kid.

Ever now and then, you can get ahold
Of sum buddy whose totally iggnent.
They stick there noses up in thuh air.
They think there better, sumthin differnt.

But really, it’s just a mute point, I mean
Irregardless of whut they bin sayin’
They jess turn stuff round 360 degrees.
It’s jess a nother word game there playin’.

Thuh important thang is to be understood
Not that thuh  people say everthang rite.
The important stuff to tok about is
To know whut is wrong and whut is rite.

It’s the most bountiful time of the year.
All retailers are crowing
The profits are growing
They smile ear-to-ear
It’s their greatest time of the year.

We people are hocking,
To stuff our kids stockings,
Wth jewels we bought all year long.
We want to make sure
That we can insure
We don’t take a parental step wrong.

It’s the bankruptingest time of the  year.
No one quite gives a ****
That the whole things a scam
To sell clothing and beer
We go further in debt every year.

We’ll fight to pay rent
Nearly thirty percent
Goes to pay all the interest off.
We take extra jobs
Like all working slobs
All year we don’t dare get a cough.

It’s the most co-dependent of times.
It’s all about image
And holiday scrimmage
As if we’re not a victim of crime.
And pretending we saved one little dime.

I know you are a liar
With a suitcase full of lies.
You’re a peddler of snake oil
To those who are unwise.
You only deal in falsehoods
No matter who you hurt.
To me you’re two feet lower
Than pocketful of dirt.

You’re a gold-plated tinhorn
Not really worth a hoot.
You’re like a old plow horse
Too miserable to even shoot.
Half-deaf and selectively blind
You’re an stremely unfunny joke
And not really good to anyone
Especially decent moral folk.

I’ve seen guys like you before
They make me want to hurl
I could tell you immediately
Not to leave you with any girl.
You are the kind of criminal
Only beloved by a nut.
Someone should take you aside
And kick you in your crooked ****.

Your evil twisted lying self
Make me lose my religion.
I hate it every time you make
More suckers into pigeons.
I can’t stand to see your face
Let alone to hear you speak
And I am sure your followers
Have minds that are weak.

They’ll find out in a year or two
All the stuff we have foretold
When fans as well as the rest of us
Are freezing out in the cold
And all his cronies are safe
In the corporate welfare he creates
While we honest people pay the bills
And starve at his penthouse gate.

I’ve seen guys like you before
They make me want to hurl
I could tell you immediately
Not to leave you with any girl.
You are the kind of criminal
Only beloved by a nut.
Someone should take you aside
And kick you in your crooked ****.

I wish you Merry Christmas
That lasts all through the year.
Remember how I love you
And hold you all so dear.
Merry merry Christmas
And a happy, happy new year.

I hope all the presents
Are exactly what you like.
Just as in your childhood
A shiny brand new bike.
And apples in your stocking
Just like every Christmas,
And other great new years.

And I hope that Santa Claus
Came and left you joy
More than just pretty gifts
And fancy wished for toys.
I hope you smile a lot
And Christmas leaves you glad
And nobody in your family
Has reason to be sad.

So merry, merry Christmas
To you and all you love
May every Christmas blessing
Come down from far above
And grant you joy and your family
The merriest of Christmases
And a most joyous new year.

I’m still waiting for my Christmas present
The one you promised for so long.
Don’t keep me waiting like a poor peasant.
That would be rude and oh so wrong.
I’ve got my mind decorated for the season.
The mantel hung up with stockings
Please don’t make me wait for any reason.
Holding out on me would be shocking.

Holiday hotline
I’m making the call.
Ready for Christmas
The best time of all.
Holiday hotline
Too excited to dial.
I’ll wait a bit longer
But just for a while.

I don’t really need some kind of wish list.
There only one thing that I want.
You’ve got my heartstrings in your **** fist.
I’m fainting just to watch as you flaunt.
I’d write to Santa if it would do any good
But I am pretty sure he already knows.
Honey please, my heart’s not made of wood,
As you wave what I want near my nose.

Holiday hotline
I’m making the call.
Ready for Christmas
The best time of all.
Holiday hotline
Too excited to dial.
I’ll wait a bit longer
But just for a while.

I’m just like a little kid on Christmas eve.
I pretty sure I couldn’t really sleep.
You’ve got some great tricks up your sleeve.
I bet it wouldn’t help me to count sheep.
I want to start in unwrapping my present
I have little doubt I’ll like what’s inside.
The anticipation has been very pleasant.
Now is the finale to a **** yuletide.

Holiday hotline
I’m making the call.
Ready for Christmas
The best time of all.
Holiday hotline
Too excited to dial.
I’ll wait a bit longer
But just for a while.

The hunky lad passed me smiling.
I sat and wondered what he was into.
I spent the next short time whiling.
Did he like the same things I like to do?
Was it possible he’d find me beguiling?
Or was I just a romantic Ford Pinto;
A bit of data barely suitable for filing?
Not worth a kiss let alone a good *****?

Thus run the silent mental maunderings
Of a fool with little else but fanciful wishes
As he went about his chores like laundering
Dusting, vacuuming and washing dishes.
Dreams like those of a damsel in a castle
Drug me away from the drudgery of the day.
And helped me not see life as a hassle;
Instead it made my mind a place to play.

If fortune could send a lucky handyman
To fix something I didn’t know was broken
I could think it was a very dandy plan
And that God was sending me a token.
Almost like a voice was whispering to me
Everything is gonna be okay, my child.
So go ahead and celebrate giddily.
Your life is will soon go from mild to wild.

Oh yes, I would sing and dance in joy
Around my tiny rent-controlled home.
God was going to send a perfect boy
So he would never again need to roam.
He could stop here in his **** travels
And I would make him so glad that he did.
He could stop pounding the gravel;
Just stay with me, almost on the skids.

I’d serve him chicken from the Colonel
I have lots of coupons I’ve set aside.
Maybe he’d like something from McDonalds.
I would set the table with great pride.
And I would make sure there was wine
By the lovely gallon, here for him to drink.
If he wanted a more inexpensive kind
He wouldn’t really even have to blink.

Yes I would make a lower-class heaven
With our modest Rent-a-Center stuff.
I’d do the scutwork twenty-four seven.
I do it all now, it is nothing that tough.
He would only have to love me madly.
Life would be a fairy tale for both of us.
He’d consent to stay forever gladly;
Life would be simply, totally marvelous.

She went out dancing with her sister.
No thought of romance in her head.
A ****** on the loose in a big city.
She would end up in a stranger’s bed.
There were skanks and fancy boy ******
It looked like they were having so much fun.
Some guy offered her a cocktail so she
Thought it wouldn't hurt to have just one.

Criminals of love, villains of lust.
Blind to a newcomer's sorrow.
Heaven for an hour, home-run or bust.
Live for today, never mind tomorrow.
Criminals of love, that's what they are.
Greedy as hell,  up to no good
Acting like some famous superstar
On the trail of a babe in the woods.

Her parents never thought to teach her
How to deal with criminals of love
They set her loose among the masses
Left her in the hands of God above.
The kind of guy she met won't suffer
A single day in jail for his crimes.
She hoped she was something special
To him she was another hill to climb.

Criminals of love, villains of lust.
Blind to a newcomer's sorrow.
Heaven for an hour, home-run or bust.
Live for today, never mind tomorrow.
Criminals of love, that's what they are.
Greedy as hell,  up to no good
Acting like some famous superstar
On the trail of a babe in the woods.

This is not the imagined fairytale
Written in women's magazines;
Fighting off remorseless lectures
Was an outcome quite unforeseen.
She wishes now that she had stayed
At home to read a good book.
Instead she suffers with remorse
Being abused by a romantic crook.

Criminals of love, villains of lust.
Blind to a newcomer's sorrow.
Heaven for an hour, home-run or bust.
Live for today, never mind tomorrow.
Criminals of love, that's what they are.
Greedy as hell,  up to no good
Acting like some famous superstar
On the trail of a babe in the woods.

The Evil Spider sits and spins
His web of golden strings so thin
That the slightest tug tells him
Who wants to buy and sell him.
He also knows it is them instead
That he buys and sells, dead
Or alive, they are his fuel.
It is between him and them, a duel
And all they have to do is touch,
Be slow, not be looking and he
Senses he has an opportunity.
He wraps them in his weaving;
They have no chance of leaving
Without him ******* their souls.
And that is his only real goal.

His web is wide and strong
So passersby going along
Don’t know they are in his reach.
And before anyone can teach
A fatal lesson is quickly learned;
All their bridges to safety burned
And they are a number, a dot,
Yet another victim he has got
To total up to a win for him
That makes the future dim
For those who don’t know
How far he is willing to go
With his golden lines of death.
It only takes a breath.

I’m dreaming of a White Christmas
With not one foreigner you know;
Where the people speaking
Like good Americans
The rest should get on planes and go.

The best Christmas is a Lily White One.
With stuff that Jesus understood;
Like Santa’s reindeers
And trees with tinsel
And toys not one made of wood.

I’m screaming for a White Christmas
So shove that crap that Christ’s a Jew!
Go and burn in hellfire with you!
And my best Christmas wish comes true.

I used to believe in Santa Claus
So jolly and red and so fat.
I was a big fan of Christmas
No holiday was as great as that.
Not Easter with those funny eggs
Not even Halloween with candy.
No, that thing about tons of presents
To me, that was fine and dandy.

And we even got two weeks off
Nobody had to go to school.
Then coming back with new clothes
That made me look so cool.
Nothing compared to Santa Claus
The flying reindeer, ** ** guy.
I used to try to stay awake
So I could see him flying by.

It was such a great reality
To know that dude was up there
In the frozen north pole air
Making stuff for kids everywhere.
That was the world I reveled in,
Where everyone celebrated.
I knew I was not the only one
Who sat by the tree and waited.

I don’t remember being confused
By the Santas in department stores.
Santa had lots of helpers, I knew,
And this guy was just one more.
I did have a problem with chimneys
And a bag that he could lift
That carried things for all us kids;
Every size and type of gift.

But kids have a way of helping folks
To maintain a pretty fantasy.
We just ignored things that didn’t fit.
We went about it very easily.
But one day, and I remember when
I got let in on the confidence game
And Santa Claus was quickly gone,
Never to come to our house again.

The sad thing is nothing can ever
Replace the joy I once felt.
Santa was not supposed to be
Like Frosty and too quickly melt.
So, I have to make do with having
The grownup toys I buy myself.
Oh, how I could use a flying sled
And the help of a brace of elf.

I have busted my ****, sliding down rainbows
And fell through many pink clouds on my ear.
I always whistle as I pass by graveyards
Threw hundreds in wishing wells, over the years.
I defaulted my rent on castles in the air.
I carefully avoided stepping on any cracks.
I walk endless miles not to walk under ladders.
I carefully avoid walking near any cat if it is black.

I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.

I’ve cramps in my fingers from them being crossed.
I would never break any kind of mirror, of course .
And I still have salt sprinkled on my shoulders.
Wishing on many stars, I have made myself hoarse.
I always look away when a funeral goes by.
I spit in my palm when I hear something spooky.
I drop coins into the bowls of all beggars
Even though most of my friends think me kooky.

It’s not like I go broke on soothsayers
And buy all the amulets I see on TV.
But It makes little sense to take a moment
To avoid the omens anyone can see.

Yes I buy copper bracelets to save me
From arthritis or rheumatism of my knee.
I never wear clothing the color of blood,
That only makes common sense to me.
Some think I’m a few boards short of a fence
Be that as it may, and all well and good
My guess is you all have looked around
To find something so you could knock on wood.

I totally buy that I am superstitious
And I wear that distinction like a hair shirt.
But I see problem in not taking chances;
It may not work, but it couldn’t hurt.

It’s Saturday night at the neighborhood bar
And I know that’s where my good friends are
So I plan to be there to party all night.
I hope we have fun and there are no fights.
But somebody’s bound to shoot of their mouth
So my mellow party plans might just go south.
That’s often how it goes with drunk boys and girls,
But I wouldn’t miss a minute for all the world.

Knee-walking ****-faced. That’s what I’ll be.
That’s how we do weekends in our society.
We’ll play chugalug games and drain our cup
And by the end of the evening throw it all up.
Knee-walking ****-faced, slapping some backs
Probably end up in some total stranger’s sack!
Of the Hammered Hell Club, I’m a member.
The meetings run from December to December.

I like this place where everyone knows my name.
Where everyone has their own self to blame.
We’re all full grown, and nobody here’s a kid.
We each take responsibility for whatever we did.
We’re true believers in a bit of cutting loose.
So what if it means we end up puking in our shoes?

Knee-walking ****-faced. That’s what I’ll be.
That’s how we do weekends in our society.
We’ll play chugalug games and drain our cup
And by the end of the evening throw it all up.
Knee-walking ****-faced, slapping some backs
Probably end up in some total stranger’s sack!
Of the Hammered Hell Club, I’m a member.
The meetings run from December to December.

Some friends I know say I’m not too bright
To go out, and stay out drinking at night
But they don’t have the problems like me.
But it contributes to my state of sanity
To get a little crazy, and **** a few brain cells
And hang out with my peers I know **** well!
Right now I have no time for any deep sorrow.
Party tonight, leave the worry ’til tomorrow.

Soowee, soowee. Top of our lungs
That’s how we used to call the hogs
And every time they would come,
Running just like well trained dogs,
Because they knew it meant food
Even though that food was just slop,
Those pigs have nothing like taste.
But nothing could make them stop.

Lately I have noticed human beings
Who seem to behave the same way.
They gobble the media slop they hear
Every day after mind-numbing day.
They too seem to have no taste
And smell something they really dig;
Nothing any sensible creature eats
But it seems to be ambrosia to a pig.

Squee, squee, squee they snort
And salivate, squeal and chow down
On the unpalatable pap served up
By the greedy media super-clowns.
It’s almost like they would pass up
A meal of honest, unvarnished truth
To gorge themselves to a stupor
On the crap they loved as a youth.

I’m always surprised that these folks,
This metaphoric, too human swine
Don’t go out in public in pajamas
Like worn by young neighbors of mine
With cartoon mice and supermen
Instead of the clothes of an adult.
They go vote like uninformed fools.
And current Congress is the result.

My father and mother gave me life.
Father contributed maybe just a minute;
His effort made life happen to me
Then he mostly cast me adrift in it.
Mother took longer to have me
But cared even less for me it seems
And after she did what she had to do
She just cared about her own dreams.

Life can be painful if you’re an orphan
Uncared for, unwanted and a pain.
It’s almost like people hold living against you
When they see you coming around once again.
Believe me, this is not what I wanted;
Always to be the flat fifth wheel.
I don’t know what else could have happened
But I have always aware of what I feel.

I developed a lifelong hatred of imposing,
Of asking something when not welcome.
I did what I could to show gratitude
But somehow I was taken as loathsome.
It was almost as if to know me was to hate me
And the best thing I could do was to be gone.
To make myself scarce from the party.
My best trick was just me moving on.

So, early in life, I started collecting
A brand-new batch of my family.
I only kept around those with no problem
Letting me know that they treasured me.
I stopped keeping track of the careless,
The users that only wanted what I had.
I turned my ears deaf to any naysayers
And ever since then I have been glad.

Christmas stopped being painful or lonely
With loneliness or abuse being the theme.
I joined in the traditions and merriment
And made holidays the fun they should seem.
I had my decorations and stockings hung up
On the mantel of a home of my very own.
And for those who didn’t care much for me
I wish them a Happy Twilight Zone.

Be what you are!
Be a moving picture star
if you want to take it that far.
Drive a huge fancy foreign car.
Or write a great book
All about the chances you took.
Sit beside a picturesque brook
And immortalize how the trees shook.

Go on and tell!
Say who you are as well.
Don’t wait for the final bell
You won’t get to hear the knell.
Chose the right words.
Set them and you free as a bird.
Make people know what they heard.
Create awe with what has occurred.

Maybe you can paint.
And let people see what ain’t
Or the halo of a beloved saint.
Maybe just to trigger critical complaint.
Or maybe you carve things
Complicated stuff like angel wings.
Carve so you feel the joy that it brings;
To stir the inner soul with wonderings.

Be what you are.
Even if people stare at a scar
Or run away as fast and as far.
Those shallow folk will end up in a bar.
Or maybe you stammer
When something makes you stutter
And people laugh at every word you utter.
What you are made of is so much better.

Middle-school adulthood
Picking on people is cool.
Nothing important is going on
That has anything to do with school.
Glasses make people four-eyed
Not being thin means they’re fat.
Stutters and stammers are funny
And being snotty is where it’s at.

Ding **** bell, being rich is swell
Don’t  be wimpy, not a smidge
Tree-hugging liberals can go to hell.
Revel in your white privilege.
You want to vote for a Democrat?
Have you lost your silly head?
Just check all the GOP boxes
With Daddy’s choice instead.

Now you’re all grow up today
And have a lot of political power
Which grows and grows  stronger
Each hour by Republican hour.
So don’t weaken now, baby
Do what you know is right.
Stick to your supremacist guns.
Because you know white makes might.

So use your sarcasm as a tool
Secretly whisper against the weak.
And those weak-kneed pacifists,
Those flag burning, long haired creeps;
Ignore them all; give their nose a tweak.
Just like the women you dated and married
They need to follow your lead in life.
After all, they don’t count the same as you.
The important thing is they’re just a wife.

Ding **** bell, power is swell
You never suffer, not a smidge
Don’t worry if you can’t spell.
Revel in your white privilege.
Never vote for a Democrat,
Don’t be that kind of stupid head.
Just check every the GOP boxes
Faithfully keep your state red.

What does Santa have to do with Jesus
Or an egg-laying rabbit for that matter.
People who think this crap up must be
As mad as Lewis Caroll’s Mad Hatter.
I mean, these same store owners
Got those stories from somewhere.
Then put them out generously for
Gullible parents so freely to share
With kids grown greedy by the lack
Of parental care and nurturing
Not to mention pablum, for real
As the family thing was rupturing.

Where did that rabbit come from?
It never made sense at all to me.
How did those ******* up genetics
Get dragged into the nursery?
It defies belief that anyone over eight
Ever bought in to the silly tale.
It was always so obvious to me
That it was all to make a sale.
So, first there was fat man and sleigh
Flying at blinding electronic speed.
With ungainly flying reindeer as
What passes for valiant steeds.

Next we have a bunny who hides
Millions of gaudy hard boiled eggs
Then apparently hops right off
On some very confused short legs.
Did I leave out the Tooth Fairy?
Now, that is a real piece of work.
I really believed that pillow thing.
My god was I ever a young ****!
There might be someone else besides
Fecund rabbit, fat men and a fairy.
If they hadn’t brainwashed us so early
This whole mishagas would be scary.

The on-screen horror
Was as vivid as the real thing.
We watched as people died
Fighting against an evil king.
While in our own lives
We just smiled and went along.
Maybe we might have stood up
If accompanied by a clever song.

It won for best picture
The saddest we had seen
It shocked and appalled us
In nearly every scene.
The Director thanked Jesus
The author and his wife.
Yet the king is still alive,
But this time in real life.

Screen heroes heroes as shallow
As comic-book supermen;
They are full of flash and dash
Then they run back home again.
We honor them much more
Than the people who save us
And fail to see the blessings
Their dedication gave us.

Day to day our teachers
And our medical personnel,
Our police and our firefighters
Confront a real-life hell.
Those people and the military
Are paid the lower wages
While people who show profit
Get rich while the holocaust rages.

So, filmmakers are delighted
With each new massacre.
After all, making ****** fortunes
Is what entertainment is for.
The media allows much more time
To the ogres in our society.
Villainy is more photogenic
Than any kind of propriety.

As long as the public can’t resist
Buying those pathetic rags,
The tabloid press will still reward
Snoops, gossips and nags.
Those are the same fools
Who then go on to elect
Crooks and thieves and liars
With disastrous global effect.

Jingle Hell, jingle Hell
What we have today
Is country few cam smile;
Goodwill has gone away.

The jingle comes from coins
Taken from the poor
Then to the coffers of the rich
Just like they did before

Education  isn't cool.
Being wise is not allowed.
Be smart today means you're a fool.
Never buck the crowd.

Jingle Hell, an ugly spell
As if we are bewitched
Rich men win, poor men lose
Our places never switch.

So few can celebrate
When Christmas time is here
Prices raised so very high
Than ever were last year.

But nobody that was rich
Will suffer much these days.
Don’t ask them how it’s done.
The rich folks have their ways.

Jingle Hell, Jingle Hell
What we have today
Is country few can smile;
Goodwill has gone away.

I brag about my prowess
But I’m really a big mess.
The truth is I’m coasting
Nearly roasting in the fire,
The one I lit when younger
Full of burning desire
And right down to the wire
I hid, lied, swindled me
Double-handedly, as if
There was a rift between
Myself and the truth.
This was my youth.

I believed lies I was told
If I liked them better than truth;
I was such a shallow  youth
And the swindlers could see
When I was coming down the road
They’d load me on with their stories
About what great glories lie
In putting people down so
i could rise as high as the sky
With just a little lie or two.
How easy it was to do;
To lie my way through.

It would be years before
The score would catch me
And ****** me out of my pride
And get me to walk alongside
Those I had walked on, cheated.
At every point I was greeted
With reality standing next to poetry;
The myths that were my story
With very little glory in them.
They were sort of a battle hymn
Of someone who always before
Fought all the wrong wars
And called the dead losers.
Oh, and I was a big ******.

Does that explain a great deal?
That I really didn’t feel,
That I was on autopilot
And made sure to deny it;
That *** was my navigator
And hope was an alligator
Just about to consume me.
You could costume me, but
The way I talked and walked
Gave me away, every time.
Lying was my crime, nor was I
All that good at it. I failed;
I went to jail and confession
But none of these sessions
Helped me at all.
My heart was too small.
My pride too tall.

Tweetheart, tweetheart
I’m posting you a pastry
Tweet days and tweet nights
As tweet as it can be.
A tweet that makes you
Want to beat your feet
Everywhere and anywhere
Even across the tweet.

A tweet as tweet as candy
A tweet without defeat
I tweet you almost endlessly
I tweet you by the sheet.
I tweet you here, tweet you there,
Even to the county seat.
Everywhere and anywhere
The tweet that can’t be beat.

A tweet for the wintertime
A tweet even in the heat.
Every kind of tweet there is
The set will be complete.
I tweet for the left
I tweet for the right
Tweet dreams for everyone.
To all a tweet goodnight.

Pity the wimpy Democrats
They suffer in defeat.
Year after year they don’t learn
Like Republicans you must cheat.
Stuff all the ballot boxes
And monkey with the machines.
You’ll never get a **** thing done
If you keep the elections clean.

And band together solidly
With your chosen party.
Lie and cheat and dissemble
And act like a pompous smarty.
Never worry about what is right.
Just brazen it through out loud.
It seems jerks do the best
When catering to the crowd.

Buy votes from everywhere
Especially from big industry;
Big Oil, Big Banks and Pharma
Kiss their butts shamelessly.
Make sure all the factions
That are stealing the country blind
Understand you have their backs
And treat all of the poor unkind.

Go on tour and television
And make out you’re the good guy:
Dare the opposition to debate
Then Ignore facts and lie.
Remember the public is stupid
And doesn’t know what goes on.
Run a crew of cheaters on the side,
It’s what elections depend on.

But most importantly, you must be
The most obnoxious candidate.
Start early and spend the bucks.
It’s deadly for you to start too late.
Run the most famous people:
They must be Christian and straight.
No matter how you cheat and lie
Promise America will be Great.

Cover your butts before you start.
Plant a lot of baseless rumors.
Make baseless stories about their past.
Swear voting wrong causes tumors.
Do what it takes, Democrats
The GOP has no compunctions
If they could just get by with it
They’d beat you with truncheons.

This is the tale, too often told
Of the idiots and the bums
And why those silly fools applaud
Whenever the apocalypse comes.
When things get good for common folk
Those in power get extremely worried.
They fear people will discover where lies
All the freedoms the rich people buried.

They were aware, while the populace isn’t
Of the changes they made in the laws;
That the elite put in place corruption
Where opportunity so recently was.
The poorly-named Conservatives
Quietly  un-conserved the truth
In order to tie the hands of men
And proselytize our gullible youth.

They vilified and imprisoned those
Among the un-bribed journalists
And went right on stealing from us
And having their illicit trysts.
Those who knew they could not rule
Unless they made villains of heroes
Bought their way to power with
Wiith numbers and many zeroes.

The populace was fed huge lies
About how horribly poor we all were,
Implying we were no better off
Than cavemen wearing only fur.
They taught the stupid among us
All of the idiots and the bums,
That they had the only answers,
That they could reverse the sums.

The idiots are easy to understand
They are looking for some answers.
The bums sit back and let it happen
And never get their stuff together.
The bums decide everything is fine
Until they lose their jobs and houses
And then the *** and idiot both;
What to do? He whines and grouses.

Meanwhile even more of the wealth
That it would take to fix our land
Rotated even more back and forth
Between the same few hands.
This is what happens every time,
This is the cycle that repeats here
Defeating progress and smashing hope
Year after Conservative year.

You idiots!
You unconscionable poltroons!
Your minds have the intelligence
Of helium filled balloons!
You had a chance to save us
But when it came down to the wire
You chose to let a circus clown
Win the race and play with fire.

Who could know you have learned
Nothing at all from before
When you elected those two morons
Run the show while you snored?
Who could guess that people who
Claim to be so Christian and good,
Would act like from the ears up
They were made entirely of wood?

You imbeciles!
Do you not see what you have done?
You chose a man who seems to think
Lying and embezzling are great fun.
You did not choose the candidate
With experience and knowledge;
You chose the guy who swindled those
Who signed up for his bogus college!

Millions of us with wisdom predicted
This man who praises Vladimir Putin
Would want to start World War Three
Because he is so fond of shooting!
He thinks, without a bit of experience,
He can simply put on another act
And all the rest of the world will
See his mad delusions as facts.

You chowderheads!
You have sold your country out!
Later when it all falls apart
You'll blame someone else and pout.
Now you cheer and chant USA,
And pretend you are so ****** brave
The rest of us fear for the world
And hope there is something to save.

Disgusted now that America is busted
For voting in sewer rats and gone to bat
For making this into an autocracy,
Working to gut democracy and replace it,
Deface and deforest all of the best
Then sell off the rest of the planet
From the water to the granite
Leaving only inedible gold
Shoved into the the wallets
Of the national pickpockets
And liars while they set fires
And burn down the country
With their hatred and bigotry
Unchecked by the lazy populace
Too stupid to know what danger is
While it is marching into their homes
Making every state a danger zone.

The traitors who own the industries
Hold a gun to journalist monopolies
So that artificial realities are sold
As socialized necessities
To people who prefer tabloids
To history books and crave bromides
For this time it is the Christians
That fiddle while Rome turns to ruins
And ashes surrounded by those who fought
While a complacent half of America did not.

I am sickened at the laziness,
The political father of craziness
Has let this horror happen to this,
The country of which I was always proud,
And sick of how loud the rats are
That they have taken destruction so far
That we may never recover again
And start to elect countrymen
Instead of men to own the country
Without a scintilla of modesty
And treat fine people shoddily
Merely because they can.
Who needs that kind of man?

What are you,
All you foolish humans
That **** each other
Everywhere, every year?
What good is it,
All your mad efforts
That you live and die
To generate hopeless fear?

What have you done
All you foolish humans
That live by rules
But not by laws for peace?
Where is the pride
In what you create
In all your short, sad lives
If the genocide will never cease?

What of the children
Insane selfish humans
That go to sleep
Perhaps never to wake again?
Who in the world
Which of our fellow humans
Can we put our trust upon
If it is not the most powerful men?

What is learned
With your **** and pillage.
Are you much better
Counting up your evil rewards?
Now you have murdered
Robbed and imprisoned
All those who live by the plow
Laughed at by those with swords.

We are the fools
If we think might is right,
That strength is shown
By money in the pocketbook.
We only need to
To take a simple body count;
To slow our greedy rush, and
Take the time to take a second look.

My dictation program has an accent
It types out the most unreadable things,
When I say something like " my bunion stings",
It types back to me about onion rings.
There have been embarrassing moments
When I was chatting along quite normally.
I found myself feeling very thankful
That I hadn't been chatting formally.

The conversation needn't be special,
Nor use any esoteric phrases.
But some of the crap this program prints
Astounds, stultifies and amazes.
It can't be brushed off as an accent thing;
My speech is quite non-dialectic.
Sometimes it seems that Apple, Inc
Wants to render me apoplectic.

But, the way it is I have no human beings
That I can focus my frustration on
When something that company sells at a store
Turns me into an unwitting pawn.
As it is it's an iPhone and I can't pity it
When I hit "send" too fast and seem an idiot.
It’s possible I am asking far too much
Of the current reach of technology.
Even though our phones seem part of us
They aren’t really part of our anatomy.

Irregardless, years ago
I had double pneumonia,
But, like, you know,
It is what it is, and like
I dunno, kinda like
It takes what it takes
Know what I mean?
It’s prolly a mute point
But I turned three sixty.
You know? I mean
I’m kinda like, I dunno.

It is what it is, like
I mean, whatever.
It’s all good, isn’t it?
You get what you need
And it ain’t no thing.
I mean, go big or go home.
Try to stay in the zone,
You know. I dunno.
No biggie, though.
Keep a cool tool
And don’t be a big fool.
Know what I mean?

It’s like I was saying
Don’t give up praying
Because God does not
Create garbage, you know.
He didn’t bring you
This far to dump you.
I dunno. I’m in for
The whole game.
It’s all the same.
You know, way to go.
Give it a chance.
Get up and dance.

Know what I’m saying?
I ain’t playing with you.
It like, you know,
I’m so sure, dontcha know?
Way to go. I don’t know.
It’s like, I’m so sure.
Whatevs, whatevs!
It’s so dope, sick, cool.
There must be
Some kinda rule.
I dunno, it’s like, you know,
It’s the way to go.
Give is your best shot.
It’s the bomb, the ****,
It’s totally hot.
Maybe I am hot too,
But you know, I dunno.

Profligate pundits and
Philandering plutocrats
Promulgating pusillanimous
Pandering polecats
Put partially putrescent
Punks and pettifoggers
Past pitifully puny pollsters
Pushing the party politics
Of petrified pashas.

Disgusting demagogues
Dealing delayed death
Deeming democracy dying
Deny diplomacy daily
Deftly develop departments
Defending discrimination
Dividing deities from devils
Draining dedicated duties
With disgusting dictatorship.

Sorrowfully sublimated
Citizens of society slide
Swiftly and sequentially into
Sibilant session of silliness
In which similes scintillate
Signifying sensitivities
Of separate sensibilities
Subtly smiting the senseless.
Sauce for the stunningly stupid,
Champagne for the saboteurs.