To my dear brother, the podunk.
I write these lines to set you straight.
You think your writing is not junk,
A soaring genius you always state
Funny it seems you have no verse,
Not a single line, not even a word.
Nothing for which one can converse
About your style so richly conferred
You write how you’re a poet so grand,
Writing for greatness and accolades;
Living your life in podunk land;
Telling us of your escapades.
You tell me each day without fail
How wonderful your writings are.
I read your words with each email
But see no verse, why so bizarre?
Your words are thin, and weakly done.
You write for money, so you say,
Yet can’t even write a simple pun.
A pun from you would be okay,
So write it now and send today!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
The Right Outcome
Liberals sure are a sorry band,
Liars, roasting on a spit of lies.
They live this lie in freedom land,
Loving it, in full despise.
Quickly walking through places of truth,
They reject these out of hand.
‘Tis something about their youth,
That makes them hate the land.
They tell their lies for all to hear,
About what they think is wrong.
But ask them how to make it clear,
They’ll attack you with a throng.
Evil is too good a word to abuse,
For the likes of these arrogant scum.
But try as I might, a word to produce
There’s none for the right outcome.
Liars, roasting on a spit of lies.
They live this lie in freedom land,
Loving it, in full despise.
Quickly walking through places of truth,
They reject these out of hand.
‘Tis something about their youth,
That makes them hate the land.
They tell their lies for all to hear,
About what they think is wrong.
But ask them how to make it clear,
They’ll attack you with a throng.
Evil is too good a word to abuse,
For the likes of these arrogant scum.
But try as I might, a word to produce
There’s none for the right outcome.
One Hundred Percent
So you think you’re so competent,
Giving a grade to represent,
What is so fraudulent,
As a poet, so eloquent.
Advice; so great, so excellent.
Not good; so confident.
Your score; so right, so evident
You best reason: your merriment.
As your brain meets bewilderment
For your bro’s slams, omnipotent,
Still you judge, how benevolent.
So now you must agree or circumvent.
With your ego in discontent,
You started writing your lament
About the meter, your intent
To try to prove your great extent.
Every lie you seek to invent
Proves who you represent.
The lies, you won’t relent,
No word to read, but of torment.
A lie that could you only vent,
For me that is you 100 percent.
Giving a grade to represent,
What is so fraudulent,
As a poet, so eloquent.
Advice; so great, so excellent.
Not good; so confident.
Your score; so right, so evident
You best reason: your merriment.
As your brain meets bewilderment
For your bro’s slams, omnipotent,
Still you judge, how benevolent.
So now you must agree or circumvent.
With your ego in discontent,
You started writing your lament
About the meter, your intent
To try to prove your great extent.
Every lie you seek to invent
Proves who you represent.
The lies, you won’t relent,
No word to read, but of torment.
A lie that could you only vent,
For me that is you 100 percent.
Infidel Insurance
Little Dhimmi, believer in the liberal night,
Brother to the lie, in total darkness born:
Hater of the truth and all things right,
With hatred filled from his vile scorn;
While murdered babies never mourn,
Sleeping cold among the barley and corn.
Let sincere eyes suffice to see you as the liar,
Who lied about Bush for the terrorists’ desire,
To destroy the country if not today then tomorrow,
To insure the infidels in America feel the sorrow
Of believing Dhimmi and his lying campaign,
Who will never live to feel their cause’s pain.
Brother to the lie, in total darkness born:
Hater of the truth and all things right,
With hatred filled from his vile scorn;
While murdered babies never mourn,
Sleeping cold among the barley and corn.
Let sincere eyes suffice to see you as the liar,
Who lied about Bush for the terrorists’ desire,
To destroy the country if not today then tomorrow,
To insure the infidels in America feel the sorrow
Of believing Dhimmi and his lying campaign,
Who will never live to feel their cause’s pain.
You Shall Walk
You shall walk in your black lies
At your immoral pace
Where footsteps of truth fast dies
As a grubby face
In mists of lying lace.
You shall go clad in slime
And full of bull,
Smelling as a cesspool of grime
So regretable
Showing a reasoned null.
You shall crawl through your podunk town
In mindless trance,
Belly up, eyes protruding down
With gleeful glance
On your al Qaeda dance.
You shall walk in liars’ shoes
Wherever you go,
Hate will render your views
As putrid flesh below
Rots as you become truth’s great foe.
At your immoral pace
Where footsteps of truth fast dies
As a grubby face
In mists of lying lace.
You shall go clad in slime
And full of bull,
Smelling as a cesspool of grime
So regretable
Showing a reasoned null.
You shall crawl through your podunk town
In mindless trance,
Belly up, eyes protruding down
With gleeful glance
On your al Qaeda dance.
You shall walk in liars’ shoes
Wherever you go,
Hate will render your views
As putrid flesh below
Rots as you become truth’s great foe.
The Lie Is A Die
Lies, to lib’rals, are like dice to be cast,
Six choices come up and all for lambaste.
The lib’ral will always cast the first lie,
To snare the minions so he can deny.
The lib’rals lie as if playing a game
They will lie and lie while showing no shame.
When the lie rolls “five” or the big “six”
The lib’ral will sneer and lie just for kicks.
Let the lie roll “three” or even a “four”
It’s time to bash Bush, the man they abhor.
If the lie lands on “two” or number “one”
The lib’rals’ lies can never be outdone.
The moral of this ditty, is easy to tell,
A lie is a die that is cast so as to sell
A belief that has murdered millions and more
While making us all suffer disasters galore!
Six choices come up and all for lambaste.
The lib’ral will always cast the first lie,
To snare the minions so he can deny.
The lib’rals lie as if playing a game
They will lie and lie while showing no shame.
When the lie rolls “five” or the big “six”
The lib’ral will sneer and lie just for kicks.
Let the lie roll “three” or even a “four”
It’s time to bash Bush, the man they abhor.
If the lie lands on “two” or number “one”
The lib’rals’ lies can never be outdone.
The moral of this ditty, is easy to tell,
A lie is a die that is cast so as to sell
A belief that has murdered millions and more
While making us all suffer disasters galore!
Gland
The liberal mouth is a gland
When it excretes the ugly bile
To cover up the lies so hostile
While helping the lies to expand
The liberal is the gland mother
Of all excretion ducts and organs
To spread the vile bile shenanigans
Of the proven lie, one after the other
When it excretes the ugly bile
To cover up the lies so hostile
While helping the lies to expand
The liberal is the gland mother
Of all excretion ducts and organs
To spread the vile bile shenanigans
Of the proven lie, one after the other
Brain Dead
He walked the path of all brain-dead
And with the morning sun;
The Dhimmi stopped, he thought and said,
My lies will never be outdone.
A podunk teacher now retired
With hair of festering grey;
As lying a man has ever been mired
In the podunker way
But on that morning, through the grass,
And by those Washita hills
He walked alone without much class
Looking for lying thrills.
“My work,” said he, “has just begun,
As I spread more lying lib trash,
They’ll kiss my butt when I am done,
Done with this great Bush bash!
A second time did Dhimmi speak;
As he picked up his writing pen
“The museum was looted,” he did shriek
“All the items were taken by Bush’s own men.”
“It’s the fault of the Bush, we all know,
Saddam’s men are as innocent as we.
Bush is guilty, as are all Americano
Who dared to help the Iraqi to be free.
And with the morning sun;
The Dhimmi stopped, he thought and said,
My lies will never be outdone.
A podunk teacher now retired
With hair of festering grey;
As lying a man has ever been mired
In the podunker way
But on that morning, through the grass,
And by those Washita hills
He walked alone without much class
Looking for lying thrills.
“My work,” said he, “has just begun,
As I spread more lying lib trash,
They’ll kiss my butt when I am done,
Done with this great Bush bash!
A second time did Dhimmi speak;
As he picked up his writing pen
“The museum was looted,” he did shriek
“All the items were taken by Bush’s own men.”
“It’s the fault of the Bush, we all know,
Saddam’s men are as innocent as we.
Bush is guilty, as are all Americano
Who dared to help the Iraqi to be free.
In Lies They Spin
In a house made for oil twixt waste and lies,
At the edge of the road with a junk-filled garage,
Walled in with a chain-link fence, not too wise,
Lives the embodiment of hate steeped in mirage.
At a computer of Mac sits a hate-warped mind
Hate-filled and twisted from Satan’s own pit,
Where the seeds grow hateful for the lies of its kind
Soon to emit.
The truth falls silent, abruptly broken,
From the lies emitting from this clown.
If the lies were stopped and the truth spoken,
Would the hate of lib’rals smack him back down?
So long as the truth is silent and he remains gutless,
The lies will continue forth as the lib’ral way,
And the clown will show how he is brainless
Both night and day
His dense brainless skull is gray and worn
Never allowing truthful thoughts to climb
Above the sinister smears of his scorn
Of those who don’t go along with his crime.
His hate becomes great for those who do not agree;
Those who dare oppose his simpleton plans.
This clown, this podunker can’t seem to see
That truth remains.
Truth can’t be pressed down by one’s shoe;
As a flower crushed from the vine of its birth.
Neither can a lib’ral speak out with what’s true
As the worm can’t help living in the earth.
As the great podunker clown sings lie after lie
Without one thought to the truth of each song;
But continues singing the junk he will deny
All the year long.
With the lies in his mouth and his heart full of hate
It’s easy to see why he deserves no respect.
His brain’s on the dole and his worth’s under debate,
Did he wonder, “Why I’m wrong in all I select?”
The same lies he sang are sung again and again
About the Bush White House and the evil within.
Matters not what’s the truth so say his men,
In lies they spin.
At the edge of the road with a junk-filled garage,
Walled in with a chain-link fence, not too wise,
Lives the embodiment of hate steeped in mirage.
At a computer of Mac sits a hate-warped mind
Hate-filled and twisted from Satan’s own pit,
Where the seeds grow hateful for the lies of its kind
Soon to emit.
The truth falls silent, abruptly broken,
From the lies emitting from this clown.
If the lies were stopped and the truth spoken,
Would the hate of lib’rals smack him back down?
So long as the truth is silent and he remains gutless,
The lies will continue forth as the lib’ral way,
And the clown will show how he is brainless
Both night and day
His dense brainless skull is gray and worn
Never allowing truthful thoughts to climb
Above the sinister smears of his scorn
Of those who don’t go along with his crime.
His hate becomes great for those who do not agree;
Those who dare oppose his simpleton plans.
This clown, this podunker can’t seem to see
That truth remains.
Truth can’t be pressed down by one’s shoe;
As a flower crushed from the vine of its birth.
Neither can a lib’ral speak out with what’s true
As the worm can’t help living in the earth.
As the great podunker clown sings lie after lie
Without one thought to the truth of each song;
But continues singing the junk he will deny
All the year long.
With the lies in his mouth and his heart full of hate
It’s easy to see why he deserves no respect.
His brain’s on the dole and his worth’s under debate,
Did he wonder, “Why I’m wrong in all I select?”
The same lies he sang are sung again and again
About the Bush White House and the evil within.
Matters not what’s the truth so say his men,
In lies they spin.
Fake For Logic
Your lies fly on November winds
Came to me, smearing as they flew;
They shout, “The lies he sends
Has fake for logic, hate for you.”
Lib’ral lies, smeared upon my screen,
Can’t you read fake or see the hate?
I saw the lies from my logic so keen.
Your sickened thoughts, there’s no debate!
Beneath words of hate lie your vacant thoughts,
Where hate is prime and children die;
In the acid burnings of brain-sucked tots,
And lib’rals, these precious humans deny.
We hear these children’s painful cries
They’re innocent but you don’t care.
We see the hate formed in your eyes
As you rant and rave without a tear.
And now you talk of children dead
In far off Iraq or Afghanistan.
How dare you point and tilt your head;
And then blame the deaths on Bush’s plan.
Your friends in hate are those who kill,
They target children one and all,
While you sit home and act the shill
Covering up the babies you maul.
Came to me, smearing as they flew;
They shout, “The lies he sends
Has fake for logic, hate for you.”
Lib’ral lies, smeared upon my screen,
Can’t you read fake or see the hate?
I saw the lies from my logic so keen.
Your sickened thoughts, there’s no debate!
Beneath words of hate lie your vacant thoughts,
Where hate is prime and children die;
In the acid burnings of brain-sucked tots,
And lib’rals, these precious humans deny.
We hear these children’s painful cries
They’re innocent but you don’t care.
We see the hate formed in your eyes
As you rant and rave without a tear.
And now you talk of children dead
In far off Iraq or Afghanistan.
How dare you point and tilt your head;
And then blame the deaths on Bush’s plan.
Your friends in hate are those who kill,
They target children one and all,
While you sit home and act the shill
Covering up the babies you maul.
With Jaundiced Eyes
Why should I believe any of your lies
Thirty years you’ve never been right,
You lie and smear with jaundiced eyes,
And call me names and look to fight.
I hate to read your wanton tripe
Your words offend my eyes:
How often you defile your life
With 500 plus proven lies.
Away from you lib’rals I turn my eyes,
Nor with terrorists will I go;
I walk only with what is true
This truth by me will surely grow.
From one podunker all should mock
Ten buy into his evil jest.
One lying sheep infects the flock,
And poisons all the rest.
Thirty years you’ve never been right,
You lie and smear with jaundiced eyes,
And call me names and look to fight.
I hate to read your wanton tripe
Your words offend my eyes:
How often you defile your life
With 500 plus proven lies.
Away from you lib’rals I turn my eyes,
Nor with terrorists will I go;
I walk only with what is true
This truth by me will surely grow.
From one podunker all should mock
Ten buy into his evil jest.
One lying sheep infects the flock,
And poisons all the rest.
The Poisoning of America
When you lie out your ass
You poison America at her roots:
Remember no man’s truth can pass
Where constantly your hate shoots.
You force the truth to wing too high
Where your unnatural evils creep:
Surely the good dear folks shall die
When truth no rightful distance keep.
You have brought down the firmament
With your constant lies and hateful cheer;
You shape huge deeds without event,
And lib’ral men believe and fear.
Your worship is your liars legacy,
Which, like old idols, rots within,
And takes away your legitimacy
Now reserved for your sin.
O, you are busied with your spite,
Preparing your legacy of distrust;
Words misused will turn to blight
And dwindle to a putrid crust.
The truth, once honored, now has gone,
Your lies bring ruin and broken shards
Piling up high until your dream is done:
I have seen garbage in your yards.
This same garbage drives out the worm
The worm of truth once in your soil;
Your knotted knots of lies hold firm
Against this worm’s advice and toil.
When by you the last truth is crack’d,
And when, to grasp more power and feasts,
The truth is gone, and good is lack’d,
The hatred from you burning beasts
Shall lead you to your tomb revealed.
This worthless pit where lib’rals die,
And light and pity are concealed,
Twill be too late for truth to magnify.
You poison America at her roots:
Remember no man’s truth can pass
Where constantly your hate shoots.
You force the truth to wing too high
Where your unnatural evils creep:
Surely the good dear folks shall die
When truth no rightful distance keep.
You have brought down the firmament
With your constant lies and hateful cheer;
You shape huge deeds without event,
And lib’ral men believe and fear.
Your worship is your liars legacy,
Which, like old idols, rots within,
And takes away your legitimacy
Now reserved for your sin.
O, you are busied with your spite,
Preparing your legacy of distrust;
Words misused will turn to blight
And dwindle to a putrid crust.
The truth, once honored, now has gone,
Your lies bring ruin and broken shards
Piling up high until your dream is done:
I have seen garbage in your yards.
This same garbage drives out the worm
The worm of truth once in your soil;
Your knotted knots of lies hold firm
Against this worm’s advice and toil.
When by you the last truth is crack’d,
And when, to grasp more power and feasts,
The truth is gone, and good is lack’d,
The hatred from you burning beasts
Shall lead you to your tomb revealed.
This worthless pit where lib’rals die,
And light and pity are concealed,
Twill be too late for truth to magnify.
The Liberal Legacy
Let them talk
Watch them walk
They won’t balk.
A womb
A life
A knife
A tomb
Knife to the head
A sucking sound
The child is dead
Tomb in the ground.
The child’s not real
It’s no big deal
Knife to the head
The child is dead
A child in the womb
Ripped to the tomb
Knife to the child
So lib’rals smiled!
Watch them walk
They won’t balk.
A womb
A life
A knife
A tomb
Knife to the head
A sucking sound
The child is dead
Tomb in the ground.
The child’s not real
It’s no big deal
Knife to the head
The child is dead
A child in the womb
Ripped to the tomb
Knife to the child
So lib’rals smiled!
A Testament
Your lib’ral lie is old and worn,
Truth had heaped it in brutal scorn.
The crap was all last year’s content,
Proving again the lib’s evil intent.
Then why go down this road again?
The same tired lies the same chagrin.
Who’s thrilled to know you lie for fun
When what you believe is really dumb?
Yet even now you seek more crap
From those who cheat and set a trap.
Your glands of gut are jars of bile,
Filling your heart with hate so vile
It matters not you are a podunk
On your way to a big slam dunk.
You hesitate, cower and hide,
Waiting for Satan to confide
Yet even he, a loser still
Will see your lie as wasted swill.
Your glandular mouth still prevails
In spouting bile and vile lib tales.
The truth came round to speak to you,
But all you did was give your view
On how we had lost that evil war.
The truth you surely did ignore.
You tell me now you love your guts.
How quaint you are, you stupid putz,
To talk of bowels and excrement!
I guess that is your testament
Truth had heaped it in brutal scorn.
The crap was all last year’s content,
Proving again the lib’s evil intent.
Then why go down this road again?
The same tired lies the same chagrin.
Who’s thrilled to know you lie for fun
When what you believe is really dumb?
Yet even now you seek more crap
From those who cheat and set a trap.
Your glands of gut are jars of bile,
Filling your heart with hate so vile
It matters not you are a podunk
On your way to a big slam dunk.
You hesitate, cower and hide,
Waiting for Satan to confide
Yet even he, a loser still
Will see your lie as wasted swill.
Your glandular mouth still prevails
In spouting bile and vile lib tales.
The truth came round to speak to you,
But all you did was give your view
On how we had lost that evil war.
The truth you surely did ignore.
You tell me now you love your guts.
How quaint you are, you stupid putz,
To talk of bowels and excrement!
I guess that is your testament
A Hateful Beam
Your emails are like a bad dream
Lies licking my eyes with a hateful beam!
In my office I sit down early this morning.
Lib’ral hate mail, I said moaning.
I will fix that up!
I went and got a coffee cup!
Hot coffee and the truth renewed.
Looks like you’re really screwed!
I smiled
and my whole computer went wild!
Slam, bam, the game is over Dhim.
Looks like your lies were all sent on a whim.
You sent no evidence.
Not even a pretense!
Again you still believe
I grieve.
Could it be what you ate?
A sandwich dipped in hate?
Marshmellows covered in the sauce of bile?
A hot dog and crispy fried denial?
I smiled again
Because you just cannot explain
The reason why each line you send
Is another lie you cannot defend.
Yessir, that coffee is still hot,
The truth with you is not.
I blame it on the food,
All you can do is brood!
Lies licking my eyes with a hateful beam!
In my office I sit down early this morning.
Lib’ral hate mail, I said moaning.
I will fix that up!
I went and got a coffee cup!
Hot coffee and the truth renewed.
Looks like you’re really screwed!
I smiled
and my whole computer went wild!
Slam, bam, the game is over Dhim.
Looks like your lies were all sent on a whim.
You sent no evidence.
Not even a pretense!
Again you still believe
I grieve.
Could it be what you ate?
A sandwich dipped in hate?
Marshmellows covered in the sauce of bile?
A hot dog and crispy fried denial?
I smiled again
Because you just cannot explain
The reason why each line you send
Is another lie you cannot defend.
Yessir, that coffee is still hot,
The truth with you is not.
I blame it on the food,
All you can do is brood!
Bipartisanship
The fruits and nuts who look for strife
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the lies they made
Proves the truth they’ve all betrayed.
The world they want but will not see;
Is built on lies, not liberty;
They talk of love and cooperatives,
While speaking hate-filled adjectives.
These lib’ral nuts are awful folk,
Ask for proof and it will provoke,
Their hate-filled rants of Hitler Bush,
And how he’s off’d a million plus.
These wonder nuts use liars’ paint
To paint things as they really ain't,
Spreading their lies from lip to lip
Then try to talk of bipartisanship.
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the lies they made
Proves the truth they’ve all betrayed.
The world they want but will not see;
Is built on lies, not liberty;
They talk of love and cooperatives,
While speaking hate-filled adjectives.
These lib’ral nuts are awful folk,
Ask for proof and it will provoke,
Their hate-filled rants of Hitler Bush,
And how he’s off’d a million plus.
These wonder nuts use liars’ paint
To paint things as they really ain't,
Spreading their lies from lip to lip
Then try to talk of bipartisanship.
Their Cosmic Glory
He knows the truth is his alone
In all its cosmic glory shown
For lib’rals hold all truth that’s known
Of human knowledge all their own
He wakes with truth upon his mind
A gift from Delphi aptly primed
A gaseous form from earth refined
Breathed in with open heart and mind
Dare show this truth with logic fail
He’ll quickly gasp and start to rail
About sacrilege and his holy grail
Of how lib’ral truth will prevail
But lib’ral truth on this our earth
Stands for dumb and evokes our mirth
It’s anchored in a lack of worth
And drips with cosmic logic dearth
It roams the hills on Delphi gas
While smoking blades of funny grass
It burns the minds of the jackass
Who believes he is higher class
So let us write and tell a joke
About these fools we now invoke
They rant and rave just to provoke
But do not like the fun we poke
In all its cosmic glory shown
For lib’rals hold all truth that’s known
Of human knowledge all their own
He wakes with truth upon his mind
A gift from Delphi aptly primed
A gaseous form from earth refined
Breathed in with open heart and mind
Dare show this truth with logic fail
He’ll quickly gasp and start to rail
About sacrilege and his holy grail
Of how lib’ral truth will prevail
But lib’ral truth on this our earth
Stands for dumb and evokes our mirth
It’s anchored in a lack of worth
And drips with cosmic logic dearth
It roams the hills on Delphi gas
While smoking blades of funny grass
It burns the minds of the jackass
Who believes he is higher class
So let us write and tell a joke
About these fools we now invoke
They rant and rave just to provoke
But do not like the fun we poke
Blame It On Coffee
I lie each day when I wake up
Must be the coffee in my cup
All my beliefs are against honesty
Coffee does that to me
I walk the path that liars know
Hateful strands of slobber flow
From impure lips in jubilee
Coffee does that to me
I love the lib’ral hate-filled rants
They make me do my great tip dance
A great senator would I be
Coffee does that to me
I drink my coffee black and strong
It makes me think I’m never wrong
And if I’m wrong, I ‘ll lie then flee
Coffee does that to me
My hate is anchored in my view
Of lib’ral right in what we do
Hating all those who disagree
Coffee does that to me
Must be the coffee in my cup
All my beliefs are against honesty
Coffee does that to me
I walk the path that liars know
Hateful strands of slobber flow
From impure lips in jubilee
Coffee does that to me
I love the lib’ral hate-filled rants
They make me do my great tip dance
A great senator would I be
Coffee does that to me
I drink my coffee black and strong
It makes me think I’m never wrong
And if I’m wrong, I ‘ll lie then flee
Coffee does that to me
My hate is anchored in my view
Of lib’ral right in what we do
Hating all those who disagree
Coffee does that to me
Thursday, November 8, 2007
At The Break of Day
Washita in the morn, is the Dhimmi awake?
Gray and bearded, thinking about a lie to make.
Evil thoughts begin so early in the morn,
Thoughts of an evil man whose face is never shorn.
The Dhimmi is here again; all his evil lies.
Listen to his lying words as a stuck pig cries,
Calling out for pity and help so far away,
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Liar, liar Dhimmi has lied again in June,
While all his fellow libs were howling at the moon,
Like a bunch of spittle drops rising in the mist;
Of lies and smears are the words for the liars grist.
Liar, liar Dhimmi is lying as of old
With eyes of crimson red and hair of graying mould;
For the Dhimmi lies again in his normal way
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Lies are in his every thought as they come from hell,
Evil stench and rotten death: things he cannot tell.
Lies are in his every thought, hatred in his eyes,
And Satan is awaitin’ still and not up in the skies.
Look! Hate has reached into his heart so deep,
Satan is awaitin’ still: How can Dhimmi sleep?
In the town of Washita, a liar still finds a way.
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Oh, Dhimmi, Oh Dhimmi there is no liar’s gold,
Stop the lies this instant, stop the growing mould.
Stop the evil hatred, repent of things you’ve said,
Or Satan will be waiting when you’re gone and dead.
Satan and his demons are riding down for you
With pitch fork and a cape of crimson hue.
Nothing will stop your soul from getting blown away,
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Gray and bearded, thinking about a lie to make.
Evil thoughts begin so early in the morn,
Thoughts of an evil man whose face is never shorn.
The Dhimmi is here again; all his evil lies.
Listen to his lying words as a stuck pig cries,
Calling out for pity and help so far away,
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Liar, liar Dhimmi has lied again in June,
While all his fellow libs were howling at the moon,
Like a bunch of spittle drops rising in the mist;
Of lies and smears are the words for the liars grist.
Liar, liar Dhimmi is lying as of old
With eyes of crimson red and hair of graying mould;
For the Dhimmi lies again in his normal way
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Lies are in his every thought as they come from hell,
Evil stench and rotten death: things he cannot tell.
Lies are in his every thought, hatred in his eyes,
And Satan is awaitin’ still and not up in the skies.
Look! Hate has reached into his heart so deep,
Satan is awaitin’ still: How can Dhimmi sleep?
In the town of Washita, a liar still finds a way.
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Oh, Dhimmi, Oh Dhimmi there is no liar’s gold,
Stop the lies this instant, stop the growing mould.
Stop the evil hatred, repent of things you’ve said,
Or Satan will be waiting when you’re gone and dead.
Satan and his demons are riding down for you
With pitch fork and a cape of crimson hue.
Nothing will stop your soul from getting blown away,
In Washita, podunkville at the break of day.
Scoring The Truth
Truth scored by a liar
An “F” and no higher.
Lies will never be scored
By truth but are ignored.
The liars try to score
The truth they so abhor.
The truth stands all alone
No liars to atone.
A grading for what’s true
A podunk would construe.
The truth is always “A”
No matter what you say!
An “F” and no higher.
Lies will never be scored
By truth but are ignored.
The liars try to score
The truth they so abhor.
The truth stands all alone
No liars to atone.
A grading for what’s true
A podunk would construe.
The truth is always “A”
No matter what you say!
In Lies They Spin
In a house made for oil twixt waste and lies,
At the edge of the road with a junk-filled garage,
Walled in with a chain-link fence, not too wise,
Lives the embodiment of hate steeped in mirage.
At a computer of Mac sits a hate-warped mind
Hate-filled and twisted from Satan’s own pit,
Where the seeds grow hateful for the lies of its kind
Soon to emit.
The truth falls silent, abruptly broken,
From the lies emitting from this clown.
If the lies were stopped and the truth spoken,
Would the hate of lib’rals smack him back down?
So long as the truth is silent and he remains gutless,
The lies will continue forth as the lib’ral way,
And the clown will show how he is brainless
Both night and day
His dense brainless skull is gray and worn
Never allowing truthful thoughts to climb
Above the sinister smears of his scorn
Of those who don’t go along with his crime.
His hate becomes great for those who do not agree;
Those who dare oppose his simpleton plans.
This clown, this podunker can’t seem to see
That truth remains.
Truth can’t be pressed down by one’s shoe;
As a flower crushed from the vine of its birth.
Neither can a lib’ral speak out with what’s true
As the worm can’t help living in the earth.
As the great podunker clown sings lie after lie
Without one thought to the truth of each song;
But continues singing the junk he will deny
All the year long.
With the lies in his mouth and his heart full of hate
It’s easy to see why he deserves no respect.
His brain’s on the dole and his worth’s under debate,
Did he wonder, “Why I’m wrong in all I select?”
The same lies he sang are sung again and again
About the Bush White House and the evil within.
Matters not what’s the truth so say his men,
In lies they spin.
At the edge of the road with a junk-filled garage,
Walled in with a chain-link fence, not too wise,
Lives the embodiment of hate steeped in mirage.
At a computer of Mac sits a hate-warped mind
Hate-filled and twisted from Satan’s own pit,
Where the seeds grow hateful for the lies of its kind
Soon to emit.
The truth falls silent, abruptly broken,
From the lies emitting from this clown.
If the lies were stopped and the truth spoken,
Would the hate of lib’rals smack him back down?
So long as the truth is silent and he remains gutless,
The lies will continue forth as the lib’ral way,
And the clown will show how he is brainless
Both night and day
His dense brainless skull is gray and worn
Never allowing truthful thoughts to climb
Above the sinister smears of his scorn
Of those who don’t go along with his crime.
His hate becomes great for those who do not agree;
Those who dare oppose his simpleton plans.
This clown, this podunker can’t seem to see
That truth remains.
Truth can’t be pressed down by one’s shoe;
As a flower crushed from the vine of its birth.
Neither can a lib’ral speak out with what’s true
As the worm can’t help living in the earth.
As the great podunker clown sings lie after lie
Without one thought to the truth of each song;
But continues singing the junk he will deny
All the year long.
With the lies in his mouth and his heart full of hate
It’s easy to see why he deserves no respect.
His brain’s on the dole and his worth’s under debate,
Did he wonder, “Why I’m wrong in all I select?”
The same lies he sang are sung again and again
About the Bush White House and the evil within.
Matters not what’s the truth so say his men,
In lies they spin.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
The Lies Of Dreamland
He slid his tongue among the nest of liars,
Out of the truth’s way, dripping with hate;
Into the deranged dreams of Satan’s desires.
Into this dream for the evil lies to create.
Why should he not? Why should he be true,
When never a lib’ral in the history of man
Told the truth or even tried the truth to pursue.
This is the results of the lib’ral plan.
Lies again, I said, as the lib’s mouth moves,
And the hate venom once more fills the air;
Lies again, as this word of evil proves,
And the lies spread among the feeble in despair.
Does your hate cause Christian love deferred?
Is the death of your soul where it began?
What causes your lips to speak so absurd?
This is the results of the lib’ral plan.
Your dreamland's name that a lie encloses,
It will never be found on a decent man’s chart,
And lies so profound as lib that believes is,
They never were bought in the truth-filled mart.
The lies from the dreams through its dim fields fly,
And dumb is the tune of the lib’ral band;
No lying's note awakens the truthfilled ally,
Tis not the results of the lib’ral plan.
ENVOI
In the world of dreams where the libs’ reside,
All lie for a season and then deny the proof
Of true word’s truth which can’t be denied,
This is the results of the lib’ral goof!
Out of the truth’s way, dripping with hate;
Into the deranged dreams of Satan’s desires.
Into this dream for the evil lies to create.
Why should he not? Why should he be true,
When never a lib’ral in the history of man
Told the truth or even tried the truth to pursue.
This is the results of the lib’ral plan.
Lies again, I said, as the lib’s mouth moves,
And the hate venom once more fills the air;
Lies again, as this word of evil proves,
And the lies spread among the feeble in despair.
Does your hate cause Christian love deferred?
Is the death of your soul where it began?
What causes your lips to speak so absurd?
This is the results of the lib’ral plan.
Your dreamland's name that a lie encloses,
It will never be found on a decent man’s chart,
And lies so profound as lib that believes is,
They never were bought in the truth-filled mart.
The lies from the dreams through its dim fields fly,
And dumb is the tune of the lib’ral band;
No lying's note awakens the truthfilled ally,
Tis not the results of the lib’ral plan.
ENVOI
In the world of dreams where the libs’ reside,
All lie for a season and then deny the proof
Of true word’s truth which can’t be denied,
This is the results of the lib’ral goof!
Monday, November 5, 2007
The False-decked Mind
You make your lying statements
Contented within your false-decked mind
That you, a liberal, still represents
The good and honor of all mankind.
For we do love our country, you say
As you cast your hoary schemes
It’s patriotic to protest the way
Our leaders protect us from extremes.
We’re liberals, you say with a final smirk
And what we say we know is true
Even if proven wrong by you, a jerk.
We are here to make it work
And the country to subdue.
The daily drone of lies keeps on
To fulfill the liberal dream:
A socialist country full of song
With them as the ruling team.
And as they play this backward tune,
Logic refuses there flailing grasp.
As they sit in their liar’s swoon,
The truth for them will surpass.
They love the scandals of the men,
As long as it is not one of theirs.
Destructive smears they love to pen
But NEVER with one they share.
You liberals are not interested in the facts
You just said it again today.
You’ve proven this by your acts,
And proudly put it on display.
The criminal behavior of your kind,
Should not surprise a decent sort.
The only solution one will find
Is to execute or deport!
Contented within your false-decked mind
That you, a liberal, still represents
The good and honor of all mankind.
For we do love our country, you say
As you cast your hoary schemes
It’s patriotic to protest the way
Our leaders protect us from extremes.
We’re liberals, you say with a final smirk
And what we say we know is true
Even if proven wrong by you, a jerk.
We are here to make it work
And the country to subdue.
The daily drone of lies keeps on
To fulfill the liberal dream:
A socialist country full of song
With them as the ruling team.
And as they play this backward tune,
Logic refuses there flailing grasp.
As they sit in their liar’s swoon,
The truth for them will surpass.
They love the scandals of the men,
As long as it is not one of theirs.
Destructive smears they love to pen
But NEVER with one they share.
You liberals are not interested in the facts
You just said it again today.
You’ve proven this by your acts,
And proudly put it on display.
The criminal behavior of your kind,
Should not surprise a decent sort.
The only solution one will find
Is to execute or deport!
The Children Weeping
Do you not hear the children weeping, O you murderers,
Or the sorrow from their tears?
They are laying in their caskets as cold and dry cadavers
And that means nothing all these years.
The young lambs bleat in the meadows,
The young birds chirp in the nest,
The young fawns play with the shadows,
The young flowers blow to the west;
But the aborted babies, O you murderers
Do nothing in their graves!
They’re dead and buried in the playtime of the others,
As you act like a bunch knaves.
Do you question the babies in their pain
As you suck their brains away?
Do they not deserve the freedom to remain
As you have done each day?
Trees go leafless during the fall
As the year ends in total white,
You a person can recall
How time moves to the night.
But for the aborted babies, O you murderers,
Did you ask them why they lay
Broken dreams of children lingerers
Forced to sleep in night and day.
Alas, alas, the babies! they were seeking
Their right to live, as we all will:
They were bundled up while shrieking
Taken out to the place to kill.
Go out, babies, from the lib’ral’s evil mind
You are not worth his time
Forgotten in your anguish by his kind.
That is the lib’rals’ greatest crime.
Or the sorrow from their tears?
They are laying in their caskets as cold and dry cadavers
And that means nothing all these years.
The young lambs bleat in the meadows,
The young birds chirp in the nest,
The young fawns play with the shadows,
The young flowers blow to the west;
But the aborted babies, O you murderers
Do nothing in their graves!
They’re dead and buried in the playtime of the others,
As you act like a bunch knaves.
Do you question the babies in their pain
As you suck their brains away?
Do they not deserve the freedom to remain
As you have done each day?
Trees go leafless during the fall
As the year ends in total white,
You a person can recall
How time moves to the night.
But for the aborted babies, O you murderers,
Did you ask them why they lay
Broken dreams of children lingerers
Forced to sleep in night and day.
Alas, alas, the babies! they were seeking
Their right to live, as we all will:
They were bundled up while shrieking
Taken out to the place to kill.
Go out, babies, from the lib’ral’s evil mind
You are not worth his time
Forgotten in your anguish by his kind.
That is the lib’rals’ greatest crime.
I’ve Read Your Stuff
I've read your stuff now for forty-five years
Self-poised garbage, forcing tears.
For liberalism, your lost youth
I doubt it now if you can tell the truth.
How sad that you think lying's just fine
Like plastic turkeys and Dan Rather forge.
And abortion's not murder and Plame's divine
There is no terrorist threat as you define.
And about the economy in decline.
All because you hate the Great George!
These lies you tell, bothers you not,
They're just part of the overall plot.
So each day and each night before its late
You sit in your room and visit with hate
Prepping how to send out your lies.
When busted by these lies you tell
You simply lie then try to revise.
It must be obvious from your eyes,
The evil hate will be your demise
As hatred means from God rebel.
Stay close to the cold winter for affect
The devil's heat you can't protect.
Your hatred has taken you down a road
That has made you look and act like a toad.
And yet you still continue to confide
In hatred's darkness and the Satan's way.
When will you wake up and try to display
The sense that God gave you on your birthday.
Or go right on and heaven's door to you denied.
Self-poised garbage, forcing tears.
For liberalism, your lost youth
I doubt it now if you can tell the truth.
How sad that you think lying's just fine
Like plastic turkeys and Dan Rather forge.
And abortion's not murder and Plame's divine
There is no terrorist threat as you define.
And about the economy in decline.
All because you hate the Great George!
These lies you tell, bothers you not,
They're just part of the overall plot.
So each day and each night before its late
You sit in your room and visit with hate
Prepping how to send out your lies.
When busted by these lies you tell
You simply lie then try to revise.
It must be obvious from your eyes,
The evil hate will be your demise
As hatred means from God rebel.
Stay close to the cold winter for affect
The devil's heat you can't protect.
Your hatred has taken you down a road
That has made you look and act like a toad.
And yet you still continue to confide
In hatred's darkness and the Satan's way.
When will you wake up and try to display
The sense that God gave you on your birthday.
Or go right on and heaven's door to you denied.
The Lying Breeze
His ugly tongue sends the lying breeze
Dreamed from his hate-filled fantasy,
Like the vomit wretched while on his knees.
Awful, stinky stuff, its odor sits listlessly,
As the drifting fog o’er a restless sea
When it creeps in o’er the glistening trees.
His lib’ral lies come from his bartered soul
Like the mangled skunk of road kill pun
On the gray black road of a paying toll,
Or the lackey libs on their dying run,
When the gloom of their hate becomes undone,
And the spear of the truth starts to roll.
And this truth sings out from the lips of mine
Burning your buttes like a hot fire set
In Satan’s own place for his lib’ral shrine,
Or the costly wounds from a losing bet,
Or the empty heart of a lib’ral’s regret
With the phony words of a lib’ral whine.
Dreamed from his hate-filled fantasy,
Like the vomit wretched while on his knees.
Awful, stinky stuff, its odor sits listlessly,
As the drifting fog o’er a restless sea
When it creeps in o’er the glistening trees.
His lib’ral lies come from his bartered soul
Like the mangled skunk of road kill pun
On the gray black road of a paying toll,
Or the lackey libs on their dying run,
When the gloom of their hate becomes undone,
And the spear of the truth starts to roll.
And this truth sings out from the lips of mine
Burning your buttes like a hot fire set
In Satan’s own place for his lib’ral shrine,
Or the costly wounds from a losing bet,
Or the empty heart of a lib’ral’s regret
With the phony words of a lib’ral whine.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Our Last Laugh
I heard them lie before,
About the Iraq war
And again
The lib’rals say they’ve found,
As they scurry all around
In disdain.
They say he’ll burn this time,
To pay for all his crime.
Shut him down,
What a great way they’ve found
We got him they expound
Do not frown.
But still he slaps their cheek,
And laughs at those who seek
Slam, bang, gone,
And he shakes his brilliant head,
That it seems as if he said,
"They are done."
The slimy liars rest
On the tips they hope to prest
In their gloom,
And words of hate they loved to hear
Are proven lies now for many a year
They resume.
The Hillary has said
Poor old witch, she is dead
Long ago
That lib’rals are all correct
In how they act for all reflect
In the know;
But now their noses are long,
And grows out fast and strong,
Like a staff,
And a lie spurts off our back,
And as we give them the sack
Our last laugh.
About the Iraq war
And again
The lib’rals say they’ve found,
As they scurry all around
In disdain.
They say he’ll burn this time,
To pay for all his crime.
Shut him down,
What a great way they’ve found
We got him they expound
Do not frown.
But still he slaps their cheek,
And laughs at those who seek
Slam, bang, gone,
And he shakes his brilliant head,
That it seems as if he said,
"They are done."
The slimy liars rest
On the tips they hope to prest
In their gloom,
And words of hate they loved to hear
Are proven lies now for many a year
They resume.
The Hillary has said
Poor old witch, she is dead
Long ago
That lib’rals are all correct
In how they act for all reflect
In the know;
But now their noses are long,
And grows out fast and strong,
Like a staff,
And a lie spurts off our back,
And as we give them the sack
Our last laugh.
Living in Hate
You call Bush names with evil talk
Lies from your darkened estate,
As my memory will daily balk;
I only know you live in hate .
You spew some words, by dirt unriven,
With action verbs you conjugate
Determines your home in heaven;
But I only know you live in hate.
As, at one bound, your evil heart heaps
The orchards full of lies you procreate,
As the truth within you sleeps;
I only know you live in hate.
An angel stood and met your gaze,
But you simply couldn’t relate;
As the truth within decays;
I only know you live in hate.
Oh, when your room grows slowly dim,
And life's clock will soon abate,
One gush of light to your eyes so grim,
Sadly to think you live in hate.
Lies from your darkened estate,
As my memory will daily balk;
I only know you live in hate .
You spew some words, by dirt unriven,
With action verbs you conjugate
Determines your home in heaven;
But I only know you live in hate.
As, at one bound, your evil heart heaps
The orchards full of lies you procreate,
As the truth within you sleeps;
I only know you live in hate.
An angel stood and met your gaze,
But you simply couldn’t relate;
As the truth within decays;
I only know you live in hate.
Oh, when your room grows slowly dim,
And life's clock will soon abate,
One gush of light to your eyes so grim,
Sadly to think you live in hate.
Sitting Silent
It is a few hours before the glowing light,
And the stars from the sky shining in the blackened night,
I think of you, so sad in your hatred vent not blessed,
Sitting silent, words of hate that only you could have caressed.
They hover on your screen each night, morning and day,
Spewing forth the hate that never goes away,
The hate they represent carries you into their world,
Away from the real, the truth, that daily comes unfurled,
The world you live, so ugly, so hateful, is it really you?
The insults, the lies you spew, all are ugly too,
Yet the very lib’ral thoughts you love so much,
Most decent people would never dare touch,
You show your true thoughts, every time you send your trash,
The lib’rals you so admire would do anything for cash,
The cash that they receive comes directly from below
While you continue in your rants how much you hate your foe,
If the cash comes from below who is this you so oppose
Could it be the one, who around his head it glows!
And the stars from the sky shining in the blackened night,
I think of you, so sad in your hatred vent not blessed,
Sitting silent, words of hate that only you could have caressed.
They hover on your screen each night, morning and day,
Spewing forth the hate that never goes away,
The hate they represent carries you into their world,
Away from the real, the truth, that daily comes unfurled,
The world you live, so ugly, so hateful, is it really you?
The insults, the lies you spew, all are ugly too,
Yet the very lib’ral thoughts you love so much,
Most decent people would never dare touch,
You show your true thoughts, every time you send your trash,
The lib’rals you so admire would do anything for cash,
The cash that they receive comes directly from below
While you continue in your rants how much you hate your foe,
If the cash comes from below who is this you so oppose
Could it be the one, who around his head it glows!
Thump, Thump, Thumping
Within his podunk Lib’ral head
A mental cough in total dread,
The thump, thump, thumping of poet rhymes
Flew madly through his stupid lines.
The words come forth in black and white,
A thump, thump, thumping through the night.
As sludge drips from his mental scars,
Sharing prose with a thousand stars.
Against the truth of this awful strain
In darkness, he in angry vain,
A shallow little podunk, pouts
In brief defiance, racked with doubts,
And passes on, and leaves no trace.
For stupidity holds him to his place,
As thump, thump, thumping is his thing.
That’s all that’s needed to make him sing.
His lines still lie obscure and blank
On empty paper as if a prank.
The thump, thump, thumping of his pen
Reminds him of the dark within.
And quietly he thumps his feet
In hopes of bringing words so sweet.
All he hears is the same old thump,
The same old podunk lib’ral chump.
And still he thumps and thumps some more,
But words don’t come just as before.
Was he wrong to expect success
When all he knows is to acquiesce
To the lib’ral lie and its elitist snobs
And to all the other evil slobs.
I find it funny and quite unique,
To read the junk he calls critique.
He truly thinks that thumps belong
With iambic short and dactyl long.
His knowledge of the poetry verse,
Shows a mind on steroids but in reverse.
The hatred shown in all things said
Goes right back to a heart that’s dead.
There’s nothing here I can report
So that leaves execute or deport.
A mental cough in total dread,
The thump, thump, thumping of poet rhymes
Flew madly through his stupid lines.
The words come forth in black and white,
A thump, thump, thumping through the night.
As sludge drips from his mental scars,
Sharing prose with a thousand stars.
Against the truth of this awful strain
In darkness, he in angry vain,
A shallow little podunk, pouts
In brief defiance, racked with doubts,
And passes on, and leaves no trace.
For stupidity holds him to his place,
As thump, thump, thumping is his thing.
That’s all that’s needed to make him sing.
His lines still lie obscure and blank
On empty paper as if a prank.
The thump, thump, thumping of his pen
Reminds him of the dark within.
And quietly he thumps his feet
In hopes of bringing words so sweet.
All he hears is the same old thump,
The same old podunk lib’ral chump.
And still he thumps and thumps some more,
But words don’t come just as before.
Was he wrong to expect success
When all he knows is to acquiesce
To the lib’ral lie and its elitist snobs
And to all the other evil slobs.
I find it funny and quite unique,
To read the junk he calls critique.
He truly thinks that thumps belong
With iambic short and dactyl long.
His knowledge of the poetry verse,
Shows a mind on steroids but in reverse.
The hatred shown in all things said
Goes right back to a heart that’s dead.
There’s nothing here I can report
So that leaves execute or deport.
For Iraqis To Be Free
Your lies’ cold pains are silver-gray
Sharp as the hot Sahara sands,
Your lips are moving, people sway
Heeding close to all your demands.
Grimy faces, look upward and stare,
At the liar sharing his words of hate;
That liar is Dhimmi Dale, so beware!
The lies continue, a natural trait.
Dull like pebbles, brainless fool,
Glances upward and then lips move,
Spews out the words as Satan’s tool.
Life as a liar can never improve.
Lies from the strangest fruits
Spewing from some dark tree;
Dhimmis, all lib’ral brutes
Deny others to be free.
One man stands as free men stand
The Bush it just might be
Brave, unbroken see his plan
For Iraqis to be free!
Sharp as the hot Sahara sands,
Your lips are moving, people sway
Heeding close to all your demands.
Grimy faces, look upward and stare,
At the liar sharing his words of hate;
That liar is Dhimmi Dale, so beware!
The lies continue, a natural trait.
Dull like pebbles, brainless fool,
Glances upward and then lips move,
Spews out the words as Satan’s tool.
Life as a liar can never improve.
Lies from the strangest fruits
Spewing from some dark tree;
Dhimmis, all lib’ral brutes
Deny others to be free.
One man stands as free men stand
The Bush it just might be
Brave, unbroken see his plan
For Iraqis to be free!
The Looney Charade
How long must I wait for hate to subside,
So the thinness of your skin will reside?
Utopian rants of the Looney charade,
Proves the truth you want to evade.
How I rejoice each time you give whine,
To the words in the verses I design.
You call me names as a child of the spite,
Whose thin skins responds with a fight.
Yearning to be right is always your plight,
And when you are wrong you’ll skip the contrite,
Believing like fools that all must embrace,
The philosophy of your hallowed disgrace.
The story of Looney proves your baffoonery,
As the hot air used for balloonery.
You call me delusional with nothing exceptional,
While you can’t even write words that are seasonal.
How I crave to see something other than hate,
From such a thin skinned fool so irate.
The Looney desire for a utopian dream,
Is just the same dumb lib’ral theme.
So if it sounds like a duck with a quack
And it walks like a duck with a knack
For wide flat feet, a bill, a wing
Chances are good it’s the truth that I sing.
So send me an article I can rip into pieces,
Watching as your blood pressure increases,
Making it obvious who should take lithium,
And who really lives in delirium.
So the thinness of your skin will reside?
Utopian rants of the Looney charade,
Proves the truth you want to evade.
How I rejoice each time you give whine,
To the words in the verses I design.
You call me names as a child of the spite,
Whose thin skins responds with a fight.
Yearning to be right is always your plight,
And when you are wrong you’ll skip the contrite,
Believing like fools that all must embrace,
The philosophy of your hallowed disgrace.
The story of Looney proves your baffoonery,
As the hot air used for balloonery.
You call me delusional with nothing exceptional,
While you can’t even write words that are seasonal.
How I crave to see something other than hate,
From such a thin skinned fool so irate.
The Looney desire for a utopian dream,
Is just the same dumb lib’ral theme.
So if it sounds like a duck with a quack
And it walks like a duck with a knack
For wide flat feet, a bill, a wing
Chances are good it’s the truth that I sing.
So send me an article I can rip into pieces,
Watching as your blood pressure increases,
Making it obvious who should take lithium,
And who really lives in delirium.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Pretty Lib - Satan's Preferred
Hey! pretty lib, with salivated chin,
Who's never known a truthful word,
All your wish is power to win;
This is the way that libs begin--
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
Dark gray locks cover foolish brains,
Lying and whining are all you heard;
Crying and fighting over scumbag stains,
On Clinton's mattress and Hillary's veins--
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
Five hundred times over you lied to pass,
Words of false with nothing feared;
Which let you know a lib'ral is an ass,
Which you now know lies can't surpass,
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
Pledged to Satan; he had you declared,
All lib liars whose beards are gray,
Did the lies cause you to be jeered?
Common thing among those who've erred.
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
The biggest liar who can't resist
A lying tongue that spins the pun,
May he spin his pun but not his fist,
Or be blown away and never be missed,
As he calls us all, "son!"
Your lies are dead, we proved them so
How you love to continue to malign!
We've won in Iraq; while you sit here,
Spinning your lies from those you hear,
Dipping your nose in your podunker whine.
Who's never known a truthful word,
All your wish is power to win;
This is the way that libs begin--
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
Dark gray locks cover foolish brains,
Lying and whining are all you heard;
Crying and fighting over scumbag stains,
On Clinton's mattress and Hillary's veins--
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
Five hundred times over you lied to pass,
Words of false with nothing feared;
Which let you know a lib'ral is an ass,
Which you now know lies can't surpass,
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
Pledged to Satan; he had you declared,
All lib liars whose beards are gray,
Did the lies cause you to be jeered?
Common thing among those who've erred.
Wait till you are Satan's preferred!
The biggest liar who can't resist
A lying tongue that spins the pun,
May he spin his pun but not his fist,
Or be blown away and never be missed,
As he calls us all, "son!"
Your lies are dead, we proved them so
How you love to continue to malign!
We've won in Iraq; while you sit here,
Spinning your lies from those you hear,
Dipping your nose in your podunker whine.
Danger Is My Middle Name
I climbed upon a hill in Washita
Where danger lurked with much sublime
To wonder at my life in awe.
I feared not danger, nor the crime
As I was born at danger's gate
Beholding danger all the time.
My brilliant powers just couldn't wait
To confront the dangers so intimate
And live the life that was my fate.
I lived a life at a dangerous rate
The fact of this, made Cec jealous
And thus he lied to compensate.
The kids I taught were criminals zealous
Each had a gun, a knife and bat,
To bash me, these evil fellas.
Each day for me was pure combat.
Discourse was not a viable option,
As I played the part of an acrobat.
I had no time to teach education,
For my life was spent in danger
Dodging bullets and extinction.
Each day I awoke to face the anger,
Of kids you planned to have my funeral
From papers cuts or a thrown eraser.
To show them I am a fearless lib'ral,
Each night I lock my doors up tight
Living life in my danger cultural.
So if you dare question my game
I'll show why danger is my name.
Where danger lurked with much sublime
To wonder at my life in awe.
I feared not danger, nor the crime
As I was born at danger's gate
Beholding danger all the time.
My brilliant powers just couldn't wait
To confront the dangers so intimate
And live the life that was my fate.
I lived a life at a dangerous rate
The fact of this, made Cec jealous
And thus he lied to compensate.
The kids I taught were criminals zealous
Each had a gun, a knife and bat,
To bash me, these evil fellas.
Each day for me was pure combat.
Discourse was not a viable option,
As I played the part of an acrobat.
I had no time to teach education,
For my life was spent in danger
Dodging bullets and extinction.
Each day I awoke to face the anger,
Of kids you planned to have my funeral
From papers cuts or a thrown eraser.
To show them I am a fearless lib'ral,
Each night I lock my doors up tight
Living life in my danger cultural.
So if you dare question my game
I'll show why danger is my name.
The Danger Of A Paper Cut
A paper cut! The danger which I sing,
Carelessly I greet this danger so awed;
I fear the terror that this may bring,
For I'm a fraud.
This deep laid cut that pained me so,
No more at peace so in anger I cry;
Take no prisoners in this war of woe,
Or die will I.
I tread through this cut pressed upon my skin,
I smile at the danger as gallant art;
My cut burns brightly from the paper thin,
But not my heart.
I face the paper and I face the pain,
I lift my head, danger is what I sing,
As my feet are set, I will not complain.
I'll fight this thing.
Around me on the battlefield of slice,
I see men fight and fail and crouch in pain;
But here I stand deeply cut twice,
The danger of mundane.
Carelessly I greet this danger so awed;
I fear the terror that this may bring,
For I'm a fraud.
This deep laid cut that pained me so,
No more at peace so in anger I cry;
Take no prisoners in this war of woe,
Or die will I.
I tread through this cut pressed upon my skin,
I smile at the danger as gallant art;
My cut burns brightly from the paper thin,
But not my heart.
I face the paper and I face the pain,
I lift my head, danger is what I sing,
As my feet are set, I will not complain.
I'll fight this thing.
Around me on the battlefield of slice,
I see men fight and fail and crouch in pain;
But here I stand deeply cut twice,
The danger of mundane.
The Great White Fright
The podunk looks oh so brave
Like a medieval knight
Who's found it easy to behave,
As if he were some great white fright.
Experience has taught him to be aware,
Of those deadly, evil earth worms
That dig down deep and fight unfair,
Ripping the limbs from dimpled germs.
Or watch out closely for the cricket!
It'll tear your eyes out right away
And rip you up by punching your ticket,
Leaving you shredded and in disarray.
The podunk lives in a real war zone,
Where evil lurks and danger thrives.
The sand flea moves like a cyclone
And bites and kills when it arrives.
The chigger is a deadly beast,
Hiding unseen among the blades.
It'll tear and rip for food and feast
Then itch you to death in attacking raids.
The danger is out there, scary and real
The podunk lives each day in fear
Of bug molest or gnat ordeal,
Shivering with each buzz that's near.
But the podunk is one brave dude,
Standing tall and tough against the scare.
Fighting the evil insects crude.
With bug spray only and hands so bare.
Yeh, the podunk is like a fighting knight,
Working close and incognito;
And fists of iron that stop the bite
Of the common fly and the mosquito.
Like a medieval knight
Who's found it easy to behave,
As if he were some great white fright.
Experience has taught him to be aware,
Of those deadly, evil earth worms
That dig down deep and fight unfair,
Ripping the limbs from dimpled germs.
Or watch out closely for the cricket!
It'll tear your eyes out right away
And rip you up by punching your ticket,
Leaving you shredded and in disarray.
The podunk lives in a real war zone,
Where evil lurks and danger thrives.
The sand flea moves like a cyclone
And bites and kills when it arrives.
The chigger is a deadly beast,
Hiding unseen among the blades.
It'll tear and rip for food and feast
Then itch you to death in attacking raids.
The danger is out there, scary and real
The podunk lives each day in fear
Of bug molest or gnat ordeal,
Shivering with each buzz that's near.
But the podunk is one brave dude,
Standing tall and tough against the scare.
Fighting the evil insects crude.
With bug spray only and hands so bare.
Yeh, the podunk is like a fighting knight,
Working close and incognito;
And fists of iron that stop the bite
Of the common fly and the mosquito.
Deeds Of The Treacherous Life
Dangerous Podunk - aptly art thou named,
Because thou has been the cause of many a fear;
For deeds of the treacherous life you're justly famed,
The Washita Region - so dangerous and drear;
A place of danger - through which thousands fear
If for a moment can one find rest on solace's wing
Where through the danger a safe house doth appear,
Tis a place one is safe from one strain of horror sing,
Dangerous as gnats that fly o'er the awful scene.
Danger has been thy name among admiring crowds
Of lib'ral cowards, twanging loudly in the night,
Playing their cowards' harp that cuts and shrouds
The truth, slung feebly away in ignorant fright,
The song in which thou long has had delight,
Is danger named for you, at all those feasts of mud;
When dangerous bugs, the mosquitos come out at night,
Raise hate-filled wings and dine upon thy blood.
This is danger, with triumphant glare and in gloating stood.
As lurks the hungry tiger for his prey,
So lurks the evil chigger of the grass so green,
Greed in its eye and a savage wish to slay
It attacks with rapid bites as it is never seen
Itch from its bite makes sleep an act to crave
Beneath the skin, the chigger's glittering sheen
Swells up from dying skin to an early grave
Only for the Dhimmi brave, a chance to save!
This fascination of the danger song,
Causes lib'rals everywhere in their pants to pee;
The Dhimmi's eye that lures these idiots along
To admiring doom - more ignorant no one can be.
Even in thy hours of calm and danger see,
When on the land the deadly locust oppose,
Attacks, unbridled, slashing carelessly,
Cutting down lib'rals as the danger grows,
Toward this horde of death a glance of caution throws.
Why does the Dhimmi, at the dawn of day,
Fly to this danger and these horrid dreams,
And along the river side pursue his way,
And turn his gaze upon the land, which seems
Filled with danger in never ending screams,
The death and destruction that the light reveals.
The danger that now rules the rivers and the streams
Forces man to quiver and upon the earth he kneels,
And pours the praise on Dhimmi for the danger that he feels!
Because thou has been the cause of many a fear;
For deeds of the treacherous life you're justly famed,
The Washita Region - so dangerous and drear;
A place of danger - through which thousands fear
If for a moment can one find rest on solace's wing
Where through the danger a safe house doth appear,
Tis a place one is safe from one strain of horror sing,
Dangerous as gnats that fly o'er the awful scene.
Danger has been thy name among admiring crowds
Of lib'ral cowards, twanging loudly in the night,
Playing their cowards' harp that cuts and shrouds
The truth, slung feebly away in ignorant fright,
The song in which thou long has had delight,
Is danger named for you, at all those feasts of mud;
When dangerous bugs, the mosquitos come out at night,
Raise hate-filled wings and dine upon thy blood.
This is danger, with triumphant glare and in gloating stood.
As lurks the hungry tiger for his prey,
So lurks the evil chigger of the grass so green,
Greed in its eye and a savage wish to slay
It attacks with rapid bites as it is never seen
Itch from its bite makes sleep an act to crave
Beneath the skin, the chigger's glittering sheen
Swells up from dying skin to an early grave
Only for the Dhimmi brave, a chance to save!
This fascination of the danger song,
Causes lib'rals everywhere in their pants to pee;
The Dhimmi's eye that lures these idiots along
To admiring doom - more ignorant no one can be.
Even in thy hours of calm and danger see,
When on the land the deadly locust oppose,
Attacks, unbridled, slashing carelessly,
Cutting down lib'rals as the danger grows,
Toward this horde of death a glance of caution throws.
Why does the Dhimmi, at the dawn of day,
Fly to this danger and these horrid dreams,
And along the river side pursue his way,
And turn his gaze upon the land, which seems
Filled with danger in never ending screams,
The death and destruction that the light reveals.
The danger that now rules the rivers and the streams
Forces man to quiver and upon the earth he kneels,
And pours the praise on Dhimmi for the danger that he feels!
The Socialist Spin
The lie from liar's hate-filled tongue
Has never ceased to play;
The lie was told in morning sprung
Has yet to die away.
The fools are made when praise is given,
For all things that apply;
The liars look up to Clinton
And mirrors her every lie.
The liars all kneel on their knees,
While folding tight their bony hands,
Their graying locks sway in the breeze,
As they listen to the Clinton demands.
She pours forth socialist garbage
For all the hapless dudes to cling,
While all the listening liars at rage,
Take up the song they sing.
The logical law of us humans stand,
Against this Clinton junk,
For logic thinking will demand,
A rejection of this idiot bunk.
We all can really rest assured,
Clinton can never win.
She is a liar and is not obscured
By the socialist crap she'll spin.
The winds of truth are blowing loud
And will destroy her sordid goal.
Thundering truth will wow the crowd
To gain victory at the poll.
Has never ceased to play;
The lie was told in morning sprung
Has yet to die away.
The fools are made when praise is given,
For all things that apply;
The liars look up to Clinton
And mirrors her every lie.
The liars all kneel on their knees,
While folding tight their bony hands,
Their graying locks sway in the breeze,
As they listen to the Clinton demands.
She pours forth socialist garbage
For all the hapless dudes to cling,
While all the listening liars at rage,
Take up the song they sing.
The logical law of us humans stand,
Against this Clinton junk,
For logic thinking will demand,
A rejection of this idiot bunk.
We all can really rest assured,
Clinton can never win.
She is a liar and is not obscured
By the socialist crap she'll spin.
The winds of truth are blowing loud
And will destroy her sordid goal.
Thundering truth will wow the crowd
To gain victory at the poll.
In The Rubber Room
In a town so small we all know they fib,
About the big old rubber room.
When the podunk libs, speak the lies so glib,
They're headed for the rubber room.
Delusions of grandeur in a twisted mind,
Means it's time for the rubber room.
Where a man can fall and really unwind,
With help he'll always find.
For he must be in the old rubber room.
And no one will mind his visions of doom,
Cause he's in that rubber room.
He can jump up and down or lie real still,
On the floor of the rubber room.
He may want to scream and even kill
Everyone who's sitting in that rubber room.
Everyday he hears the lies so clear
From the back of the rubber room.
He knows its real as he sits in the rear
Of a place called the rubber room.
This room is real and its for the libs
Whose minds live in the rubber room.
When the wind blows free, we give them the pills
To keep them in their rubber room.
About the big old rubber room.
When the podunk libs, speak the lies so glib,
They're headed for the rubber room.
Delusions of grandeur in a twisted mind,
Means it's time for the rubber room.
Where a man can fall and really unwind,
With help he'll always find.
For he must be in the old rubber room.
And no one will mind his visions of doom,
Cause he's in that rubber room.
He can jump up and down or lie real still,
On the floor of the rubber room.
He may want to scream and even kill
Everyone who's sitting in that rubber room.
Everyday he hears the lies so clear
From the back of the rubber room.
He knows its real as he sits in the rear
Of a place called the rubber room.
This room is real and its for the libs
Whose minds live in the rubber room.
When the wind blows free, we give them the pills
To keep them in their rubber room.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Poet Workshop
Much does he love, at workshops’ feat,
The grandeur of the poet meet.
To see the writer calm and trying
For a rendition of his crying.
Smooth words said with disdain temper
Followed by the cough and then a wimper.
Such workshops give a weak mind pause
To think one is a poet and to seek applause.
But nothing comes to prove it’s all in vain
As fast as the blank page of empty pain.
This empty goes from brain to page
And settles on his hate-filled rage.
He writes of trash and liar’s crime
And tries real hard to make it rhyme.
The words are formed but not as verse
For workshops don’t help the obverse.
The grandeur of the poet meet.
To see the writer calm and trying
For a rendition of his crying.
Smooth words said with disdain temper
Followed by the cough and then a wimper.
Such workshops give a weak mind pause
To think one is a poet and to seek applause.
But nothing comes to prove it’s all in vain
As fast as the blank page of empty pain.
This empty goes from brain to page
And settles on his hate-filled rage.
He writes of trash and liar’s crime
And tries real hard to make it rhyme.
The words are formed but not as verse
For workshops don’t help the obverse.
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Socratic Truth
I sit at my computer, waiting for all your lies to pass by
The large lie now on the screen insults my
Intelligence. It is a record of your endless cry
Of hatred, rants and lies that fill the China sky.
I read your lies every day, and I see
Only the hatred you send that must be
Deep within your tortured soul’s marquee
Spewing the words like infected yellow pee.
I often wonder if you ever, ever know
That your soul will end up dashed on hell below
For the hatred ugly in the words that flow
From you moistened lips so sad with woe.
For it is truly sad the hatred you send each day
In the rants against the truth from you so far away
Believing the lies that will make you one day pay
With more than even I care not to say.
You have rationalized the truth you’ve seen in your eyes
And turned your back on logic in favor of the liberal lies
No remorse for the turkey you thought to be the prize
In fact turned out to be the lie that proved to be your demise.
As Socrates has told us and this is nothing new
We are what we daily do
You have lied and this is plainly in view
So why repeat what you know is not true
The large lie now on the screen insults my
Intelligence. It is a record of your endless cry
Of hatred, rants and lies that fill the China sky.
I read your lies every day, and I see
Only the hatred you send that must be
Deep within your tortured soul’s marquee
Spewing the words like infected yellow pee.
I often wonder if you ever, ever know
That your soul will end up dashed on hell below
For the hatred ugly in the words that flow
From you moistened lips so sad with woe.
For it is truly sad the hatred you send each day
In the rants against the truth from you so far away
Believing the lies that will make you one day pay
With more than even I care not to say.
You have rationalized the truth you’ve seen in your eyes
And turned your back on logic in favor of the liberal lies
No remorse for the turkey you thought to be the prize
In fact turned out to be the lie that proved to be your demise.
As Socrates has told us and this is nothing new
We are what we daily do
You have lied and this is plainly in view
So why repeat what you know is not true
A Difference
Amidst the constant jumbled lies of the daily lib’ral press
I set out on my daily search for information, truth under stress.
Lost within my personal search pattern from all these lies
I search within the parameter of the truth liberals so despise.
In this website, I find an Iraqi, pointing to the busy street.
He was walking, shopping, laughing, and living without retreat.
Just what he said, I can tell you, thanks America for this right.
This seemed to be echoing - as I navigated within his site.
"The surge is not working, So it’s time to cut and run.
The Iraqi's all hate you and al Qaeda’s already won!"
It seemed this is all I see at the daily lib’ral press
But I just can’t find this in the Iraqi address.
And these self-appointed traitors, were trying one-by-one
To convince us of our defeat at the hands of all these scum.
I saw their try was hopeless, as most of them would lie.
I called out from my internet world, "Hey liars, don’t even try?"
Must be at least a thousand sites, built with ugly lies,
And even if you had the time, none would dare revise.
Would it make a difference, to waste on them the truth?
And then I paused and thought, it is for the Iraqi youth.
I stopped at another site and saw in an Iraqi’s eye.
"It makes a difference to me sir, this Iraqi will not die!"
With that, I sent out the truth as the Iraqi had spoke.
I stopped to slam another. I could tell this was no joke.
The words that I kept hearing, cut me like a knife.
Where I saw only websites, the Iraqis saw their life.
There is not a lib’ral living who cares about the right
Of a single Iraqi’s freedom and the battle he must fight.
I didn't stop to argue, to prove that I was right.
I kept attacking websites with the Iraqi in my sight.
So I attack you, Dhimmi, and rip you into shreds,
Writing lines of truth in emails by the hundreds.
I set out on my daily search for information, truth under stress.
Lost within my personal search pattern from all these lies
I search within the parameter of the truth liberals so despise.
In this website, I find an Iraqi, pointing to the busy street.
He was walking, shopping, laughing, and living without retreat.
Just what he said, I can tell you, thanks America for this right.
This seemed to be echoing - as I navigated within his site.
"The surge is not working, So it’s time to cut and run.
The Iraqi's all hate you and al Qaeda’s already won!"
It seemed this is all I see at the daily lib’ral press
But I just can’t find this in the Iraqi address.
And these self-appointed traitors, were trying one-by-one
To convince us of our defeat at the hands of all these scum.
I saw their try was hopeless, as most of them would lie.
I called out from my internet world, "Hey liars, don’t even try?"
Must be at least a thousand sites, built with ugly lies,
And even if you had the time, none would dare revise.
Would it make a difference, to waste on them the truth?
And then I paused and thought, it is for the Iraqi youth.
I stopped at another site and saw in an Iraqi’s eye.
"It makes a difference to me sir, this Iraqi will not die!"
With that, I sent out the truth as the Iraqi had spoke.
I stopped to slam another. I could tell this was no joke.
The words that I kept hearing, cut me like a knife.
Where I saw only websites, the Iraqis saw their life.
There is not a lib’ral living who cares about the right
Of a single Iraqi’s freedom and the battle he must fight.
I didn't stop to argue, to prove that I was right.
I kept attacking websites with the Iraqi in my sight.
So I attack you, Dhimmi, and rip you into shreds,
Writing lines of truth in emails by the hundreds.
IF Lying Would Make You Right
If lying would make you right
No truth would ever you invite;
If all your lies were told in speech
No one would ever with you teach.
Were honesty part of lib’ral rants
And truth heard in their ugly chants
No one could stand up to their feats
Of winning elections so complete.
For who could argue right from wrong
When truth backs right with the strong.
Were lying right and fulfilling need
To thrill and create such sinful greed.?
But lies are not right and you know "Why"
Lies give your soul its right to die.
Your lies match your ugly deeds
Hate-filled words no one exceeds.
No truth would ever you invite;
If all your lies were told in speech
No one would ever with you teach.
Were honesty part of lib’ral rants
And truth heard in their ugly chants
No one could stand up to their feats
Of winning elections so complete.
For who could argue right from wrong
When truth backs right with the strong.
Were lying right and fulfilling need
To thrill and create such sinful greed.?
But lies are not right and you know "Why"
Lies give your soul its right to die.
Your lies match your ugly deeds
Hate-filled words no one exceeds.
An Envisioning
I envision you sitting there
Coming up with more lies,
Rationalizing that you’re fair
About others you so despise.
Is your heart too corrupt to seek
The truth you have replaced with hate?
Are you such a liberal freak
You would let this evil be your mate?
Or is it hate that rules the day;
As rain that’s fallen from on high;
Washing away the truth in your dismay;
Filled with the lies in your reply?
With your back to all that’s right
Traveling down the liar’s road,
Dare you step into the light
While you carry Satan’s load?
Are your eyes so filled with rage
You can’t see the harm you’ve done,
To those who in war now do wage,
To protect you from the terrorist gun?
This gun is aimed right at your head
And only those you hate protect your fort.
You see, those terrorists want you dead,
They don’t care about your dumb support.
Don’t you think its time to confess
All the words were lies; nothing more?
Your hate-filled prose you do express,
Prove you are a terrorist to abhor.
As the words of hate hit your tongue,
Doesn’t honor flash across your mind
And convict you of this immoral dung?
Or do you simply stare with both eyes blind?
Coming up with more lies,
Rationalizing that you’re fair
About others you so despise.
Is your heart too corrupt to seek
The truth you have replaced with hate?
Are you such a liberal freak
You would let this evil be your mate?
Or is it hate that rules the day;
As rain that’s fallen from on high;
Washing away the truth in your dismay;
Filled with the lies in your reply?
With your back to all that’s right
Traveling down the liar’s road,
Dare you step into the light
While you carry Satan’s load?
Are your eyes so filled with rage
You can’t see the harm you’ve done,
To those who in war now do wage,
To protect you from the terrorist gun?
This gun is aimed right at your head
And only those you hate protect your fort.
You see, those terrorists want you dead,
They don’t care about your dumb support.
Don’t you think its time to confess
All the words were lies; nothing more?
Your hate-filled prose you do express,
Prove you are a terrorist to abhor.
As the words of hate hit your tongue,
Doesn’t honor flash across your mind
And convict you of this immoral dung?
Or do you simply stare with both eyes blind?
Charcoal Gray
The Dhimmi is the liar of the year
And all the lib'rals repeat his same lies
The hateful podunks still their ears hear
But not the truth of facts he does revise
And he, with ugly hatefulness
Spends all his time in total sinfulness
Then sends me lies in word and deed
Of the now relentless white lib'ral greed
He heeds not the great bird of truth on high
But follows worms that on their bellies crawl
He only hears the words that fit his lie
Repeating them to show his heart's so small
His emails come without proof, only lies
But rant and rave the same old lib'ral line
Of tip dance, discount and rationalize
Of one big, long, everlasting lib'ral whine
But what cares he his soul is lost
When all the hatefilled bounty now his own
Though his own sick soul has been the cost
Not one regret his calm demeanor shown
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free
He lives his life out joyously
No care when death stalks o'er his way
And turns his heart to charcoal gray
And all the lib'rals repeat his same lies
The hateful podunks still their ears hear
But not the truth of facts he does revise
And he, with ugly hatefulness
Spends all his time in total sinfulness
Then sends me lies in word and deed
Of the now relentless white lib'ral greed
He heeds not the great bird of truth on high
But follows worms that on their bellies crawl
He only hears the words that fit his lie
Repeating them to show his heart's so small
His emails come without proof, only lies
But rant and rave the same old lib'ral line
Of tip dance, discount and rationalize
Of one big, long, everlasting lib'ral whine
But what cares he his soul is lost
When all the hatefilled bounty now his own
Though his own sick soul has been the cost
Not one regret his calm demeanor shown
Whole-hearted, happy, careless, free
He lives his life out joyously
No care when death stalks o'er his way
And turns his heart to charcoal gray
When the Lies Come Out of Hiding
When the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock
And you hear the podunk spouting all the crap that’s all a crock,
And the lib’rals all are pointin’ and cluckin’ like bloated hens,
And the local dems are waving all their white flags on the fence;
Then you know it must be time to be watchin’ all the rest,
With the lyin’ mouths a spoutin’ from the the stupid lib’ral pests.
As the podunk shouts his lies out and he spreads his normal crock,
Then the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
There’s something kinda smelly bout the lies he tells right here
When the crap he sends out from his mouth stinks up the atmosphere.
Oh, he says he’s right when he spreads 'em all out loud,
And he mumbles all the garbage and he acts so great and proud.
He thinks he’s got all the truth no matter where it came,
For he shouts out all the same old lies even though they cause him shame.
He’s a picture of an idiot, as the Bush he tries to mock,
Cause the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
The stupid, squirming podunk, a lib’ral full of scorn,
Eats the raspin’, graspin’ lyin’ stuff like the kernals of the corn.
His lies stream out boldly like the poison from a sore
But he can’t seem to remember how the truth he can ignore.
He’s a filthy, loathsome creature not worth a dollar bill
As he lies about our soldiers in hopes for Bush a major kill.
He’s a gruttin’ little savage who’s proud to hate us all,
As he sits in his podunk room making faces at the wall.
He thinks he is a clickin’, his great words no one can block
When the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
When the end comes a visitin’ and his lies are piled in heaps
He’ll wonder why he’s gettin burned and he’s the only one who weeps.
When the visitin’ is finished and his life then is all through
He’ll be sittin’ on the burning piles and wishin’ he was too!
I don’t know how to tell him, but I gotta try somehow
That if he doesn’t quit his lyin’ he’ll soon be Satan’s chow.
I’d like to see him stop this crap and come back to the flock
For the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
And you hear the podunk spouting all the crap that’s all a crock,
And the lib’rals all are pointin’ and cluckin’ like bloated hens,
And the local dems are waving all their white flags on the fence;
Then you know it must be time to be watchin’ all the rest,
With the lyin’ mouths a spoutin’ from the the stupid lib’ral pests.
As the podunk shouts his lies out and he spreads his normal crock,
Then the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
There’s something kinda smelly bout the lies he tells right here
When the crap he sends out from his mouth stinks up the atmosphere.
Oh, he says he’s right when he spreads 'em all out loud,
And he mumbles all the garbage and he acts so great and proud.
He thinks he’s got all the truth no matter where it came,
For he shouts out all the same old lies even though they cause him shame.
He’s a picture of an idiot, as the Bush he tries to mock,
Cause the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
The stupid, squirming podunk, a lib’ral full of scorn,
Eats the raspin’, graspin’ lyin’ stuff like the kernals of the corn.
His lies stream out boldly like the poison from a sore
But he can’t seem to remember how the truth he can ignore.
He’s a filthy, loathsome creature not worth a dollar bill
As he lies about our soldiers in hopes for Bush a major kill.
He’s a gruttin’ little savage who’s proud to hate us all,
As he sits in his podunk room making faces at the wall.
He thinks he is a clickin’, his great words no one can block
When the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
When the end comes a visitin’ and his lies are piled in heaps
He’ll wonder why he’s gettin burned and he’s the only one who weeps.
When the visitin’ is finished and his life then is all through
He’ll be sittin’ on the burning piles and wishin’ he was too!
I don’t know how to tell him, but I gotta try somehow
That if he doesn’t quit his lyin’ he’ll soon be Satan’s chow.
I’d like to see him stop this crap and come back to the flock
For the lies come out of hiding as the lib’rals spew their schlock.
A Liberal Tale
Where deviant acts reside
Among those mostly dead,
Close by the evil putrid side,
A lib’ral rear’d his head.
A pungent pile of worn out creeds,
Where truth was never found;
Where all the lying words proceeds,
While all known dhimmis gather’d round.
There liv'd a lib’ral, heap’d in shame,
A weak and shallow sight;
Renown'd for lying; his fame
An inglorious anal blight.
One time in lying pomp he said
All vets had won their vote;
The vote, it seems, he had not read,
But they all won, he clearly wrote.
No true virtues he possest,
Just evil passions felt;
For in his hateful satan breast
No real affections dwelt.
The truth his sad heart could not take,
As his wicked thoughts form'd to prove
Whate'er the hateful mind can fake,
The human soul can’t move.
He lost his chance to repent,
Of all the lies and evil done;
A lib’ral can’t just change intent,
Leaving the task undone.
In podunkville he sought relief.
In a small house built from his lies,
To cherish there his faithless grief,
While nursing a liar’s demise.
There, to his big surprise,
The truth kept creeping in.
A truth he couldn’t revise
Much to his wild chagrin.
What was the truth he couldn’t keep out
And gave him no support?
Twas the truth I’ve written about,
All lib’rals - execute or deport
Among those mostly dead,
Close by the evil putrid side,
A lib’ral rear’d his head.
A pungent pile of worn out creeds,
Where truth was never found;
Where all the lying words proceeds,
While all known dhimmis gather’d round.
There liv'd a lib’ral, heap’d in shame,
A weak and shallow sight;
Renown'd for lying; his fame
An inglorious anal blight.
One time in lying pomp he said
All vets had won their vote;
The vote, it seems, he had not read,
But they all won, he clearly wrote.
No true virtues he possest,
Just evil passions felt;
For in his hateful satan breast
No real affections dwelt.
The truth his sad heart could not take,
As his wicked thoughts form'd to prove
Whate'er the hateful mind can fake,
The human soul can’t move.
He lost his chance to repent,
Of all the lies and evil done;
A lib’ral can’t just change intent,
Leaving the task undone.
In podunkville he sought relief.
In a small house built from his lies,
To cherish there his faithless grief,
While nursing a liar’s demise.
There, to his big surprise,
The truth kept creeping in.
A truth he couldn’t revise
Much to his wild chagrin.
What was the truth he couldn’t keep out
And gave him no support?
Twas the truth I’ve written about,
All lib’rals - execute or deport
The Nation And Its Ultimate Fate
WHERE the liars of Satan find tongue,
Where the hatred lovers embrace,
Where lib’rals and terrorists are one!
They eat the vile meat of disgrace
For the rule of the land to replace;
With tyranny, slavery and hate.
Thinking of nothing but power so base:
For the nation and its ultimate fate!
Round this desire, that is fixed by Shariah
As a fire burning those who oppose
They are burned, they are killed, as pariah;
Singing and shining they dispose
Of those you dare uplift their face
Against their prophet so great
Without a single symbol of grace:
For the nation and its ultimate fate!
Looking out where your lies have begun;
In support of the dhimmi grimace,
Dark hearts drink in lies and are undone,
Where Satan’s desires interlace
With those you seem to embrace,
Showing just how much you hate,
With a soul - an empty dry vase!
For the nation and its ultimate fate!
Mr. Bush has beaten your support
Gave us reason to stand and relate:
How we will win if we execute or deport
For the nation and its ultimate fate!
The Truth You Ignore
Since your sanity is gone
And your body is weak
Sit down tonight
Satan is who you seek
Prepare your soul to rot
In exchange for his grace
Your mind is closed
And ready for his place
Close your mind
Don’t let in the pure good
You will not be alone
All your friends say you should
You may love the turmoil
You may hate the peace
Satan truly loves you
In his place that you seek
The rants grow louder
As the lie lays you bare
Some seek a salvation
You just don't care
His place is guarded
By the lies that you see
Dark ugly shadows
That engulf you, not me
The lies you have utter’d
Means your tickets are bought
His company disperses
As the last ones are caught
You live in his world
You live in his place
Came together by greed
Now nothing but disgrace
But! is it by chance
That the truth you ignore
Continues to beckon
From the now open door
And your body is weak
Sit down tonight
Satan is who you seek
Prepare your soul to rot
In exchange for his grace
Your mind is closed
And ready for his place
Close your mind
Don’t let in the pure good
You will not be alone
All your friends say you should
You may love the turmoil
You may hate the peace
Satan truly loves you
In his place that you seek
The rants grow louder
As the lie lays you bare
Some seek a salvation
You just don't care
His place is guarded
By the lies that you see
Dark ugly shadows
That engulf you, not me
The lies you have utter’d
Means your tickets are bought
His company disperses
As the last ones are caught
You live in his world
You live in his place
Came together by greed
Now nothing but disgrace
But! is it by chance
That the truth you ignore
Continues to beckon
From the now open door
Sitting Silent
And the stars from the sky shining in the blackened night,
I think of you, so sad in your hatred vent not blessed,
Sitting silent, words of hate that only you could have caressed.
They hover on your screen each night, morning and day,
Spewing forth the hate that never goes away,
The hate they represent carries you into their world,
Away from the real, the truth, that daily comes unfurled,
The world you live, so ugly, so hateful, is it really you?
The insults, the lies you spew, all are ugly too,
Yet the very lib’ral thoughts you love so much,
Most decent people would never dare touch,
You show your true thoughts, every time you send your trash,
The lib’rals you so admire would do anything for cash,
The cash that they receive comes directly from below
While you continue in your rants how much you hate your foe,
If the cash comes from below who is this you so oppose
Could it be the one, who around his head it glows!
You Will See
You will see, or you will not see,
That lies are lies and cannot be hidden;
No truth in a lib’ral, I guarantee,
The Dhimmi lied but still says he didn’t.
You have seen, if you were not blind,
That lies cause harm and help the hateful,
They feed on hate but you don’t mind
The more lies, the more you will be grateful.
You will or, you will not know,
Your lies will cease with you on fire,
And this fire is eternal from below
With most lies dead, nice to inspire!
That lies are lies and cannot be hidden;
No truth in a lib’ral, I guarantee,
The Dhimmi lied but still says he didn’t.
You have seen, if you were not blind,
That lies cause harm and help the hateful,
They feed on hate but you don’t mind
The more lies, the more you will be grateful.
You will or, you will not know,
Your lies will cease with you on fire,
And this fire is eternal from below
With most lies dead, nice to inspire!
The Chinese Flags
I saw him lying on the ground,
His eyes were red and bad,
And something in them made me frown
For he had gone completely mad.
So, being of the nice guy type,
I stood and heard him spew
His hate for the flag waving hype
And the country for which it flew.
He shouted out how he was right,
No matter what the facts may be.
The Chinese made the flags at night
And gave them all to us for free.
I showed him he was wrong in facts
But that made not a diff’rence one.
He screamed and hollered to the max,
And said he would not be outdone.
I then observed, “What makes you lie
And prove yourself so dumb?”
The words I spoke he did defy
And to his lies he did succumb.
“Oh, no!” he said, “I do not think
My words are wrong, but true,
But when one’s soul is black as ink,
Such lies are easy to pursue.”
“You see, I am a lib’ral scum,
And certain things must be.
The waving of the flag for some,
Makes them think they’re all free.
“As a writer of free lance fame,
I know this all is just not right
It makes us lib’rals look so lame
And fills us full of fright!”
I told him he was full of crap,
Piled high as a forty foot mound,
And laughing hard at this dumb sap
I left him lying on the ground.
His eyes were red and bad,
And something in them made me frown
For he had gone completely mad.
So, being of the nice guy type,
I stood and heard him spew
His hate for the flag waving hype
And the country for which it flew.
He shouted out how he was right,
No matter what the facts may be.
The Chinese made the flags at night
And gave them all to us for free.
I showed him he was wrong in facts
But that made not a diff’rence one.
He screamed and hollered to the max,
And said he would not be outdone.
I then observed, “What makes you lie
And prove yourself so dumb?”
The words I spoke he did defy
And to his lies he did succumb.
“Oh, no!” he said, “I do not think
My words are wrong, but true,
But when one’s soul is black as ink,
Such lies are easy to pursue.”
“You see, I am a lib’ral scum,
And certain things must be.
The waving of the flag for some,
Makes them think they’re all free.
“As a writer of free lance fame,
I know this all is just not right
It makes us lib’rals look so lame
And fills us full of fright!”
I told him he was full of crap,
Piled high as a forty foot mound,
And laughing hard at this dumb sap
I left him lying on the ground.
The Guilty Lib’rals of the White
They live their lives in cottages and often on a hill
They mix with all the inhabitants and are never still
While marching up and down and saying how they feel
Others look at them but can’t see the hate they conceal
The pleasures of this hate is what they always write
For hate is their game - these guilty lib’rals of the white
They rant and rave and live among those they truly hate
Pointing fingers to and fro and never talking straight
Its all your fault there are problems in the land
Twas the great grandfather and his evil hand
He caused the evil and the current ugly blight
This great grandfather - guilty lib’ral of the white
The hatred fills their bellies while in weariness and pain
They crawl around the floor asking forgiveness once again.
When the white stars in the dark shines upon their oval eyes
They yell and shout their hate as they spread their stupid lies
“It is all our fault, see! - the stars say we are right.”
Putrid faces turned on high - these guilty lib’rals of the white
For them there’s no racism in what they say and think
It’s all their guilty trips that make them smile and wink
We’re the only ones, who really care about these folks
The guy who wrote this crap is trying for a hoax.
They will move among the folks they want to incite,
Priding themselves for being guilty lib’rals of the white
The folks they truly hate are the ones who give them guilt
So they stomp upon their rights and force them all to wilt
Their smiles and money flow as long as folks all vote
For the lib’ral white candidates of whom I wrote
You see it’s not about the care or the desire do what’s right,
It’s all about appeasing - the guilty lib’rals of the white
They mix with all the inhabitants and are never still
While marching up and down and saying how they feel
Others look at them but can’t see the hate they conceal
The pleasures of this hate is what they always write
For hate is their game - these guilty lib’rals of the white
They rant and rave and live among those they truly hate
Pointing fingers to and fro and never talking straight
Its all your fault there are problems in the land
Twas the great grandfather and his evil hand
He caused the evil and the current ugly blight
This great grandfather - guilty lib’ral of the white
The hatred fills their bellies while in weariness and pain
They crawl around the floor asking forgiveness once again.
When the white stars in the dark shines upon their oval eyes
They yell and shout their hate as they spread their stupid lies
“It is all our fault, see! - the stars say we are right.”
Putrid faces turned on high - these guilty lib’rals of the white
For them there’s no racism in what they say and think
It’s all their guilty trips that make them smile and wink
We’re the only ones, who really care about these folks
The guy who wrote this crap is trying for a hoax.
They will move among the folks they want to incite,
Priding themselves for being guilty lib’rals of the white
The folks they truly hate are the ones who give them guilt
So they stomp upon their rights and force them all to wilt
Their smiles and money flow as long as folks all vote
For the lib’ral white candidates of whom I wrote
You see it’s not about the care or the desire do what’s right,
It’s all about appeasing - the guilty lib’rals of the white
My Prayer
Keep me out of the lib’ral way
That the truth I will always pick;
I need protecting this very day,
The lib’rals lies all make me sick.
Banish these lies from my listening heart,
And all ugliness and Satanic tricks,
But most of all make it an art,
Destroying Dhimmi with my kicks.
That the truth I will always pick;
I need protecting this very day,
The lib’rals lies all make me sick.
Banish these lies from my listening heart,
And all ugliness and Satanic tricks,
But most of all make it an art,
Destroying Dhimmi with my kicks.
The Podunker Hill
I see the ignorance of the podunker Hill,
By the Washita River, flowing through;
The small-brained lib’ral sitting as the dew;
His morbid eyes red from his lies so shrill.
His sparse, weak, feeble brain sits still.
The empty logic focused cryptically on the view
Of Old Glory waving: red, white and blue;
And this flag waving stirs him to a hateful thrill
So much hate dwells within this lesser mind
This lib’ral more content with hate than works
Through the pledge words and the hate it irks,
Not the words, but in the cloth of any kind.
When the hate like this burst forth with such shrill
then we can all see the podunker Hill
By the Washita River, flowing through;
The small-brained lib’ral sitting as the dew;
His morbid eyes red from his lies so shrill.
His sparse, weak, feeble brain sits still.
The empty logic focused cryptically on the view
Of Old Glory waving: red, white and blue;
And this flag waving stirs him to a hateful thrill
So much hate dwells within this lesser mind
This lib’ral more content with hate than works
Through the pledge words and the hate it irks,
Not the words, but in the cloth of any kind.
When the hate like this burst forth with such shrill
then we can all see the podunker Hill
Brutal Thrill
His lying mouth was cramped and shrill
Hate had given its brutal thrill
His criticism of the written lines
Moved way beyond his standard whines.
You’re not capable, rhymed verse to write
This truth comes from the proof delight.
Your poetry sucks; you need to stop
You’ve written no poems, they’re all a flop.
He stated it clearly for all to hear
He is the greatest without peer
Writing poetry and stopping those
Who dared to send what they compose.
He has the proof to back his claim
No one will dare oppose his fame
His poems are known throughout the land
Everyone reads them, he is THE MAN!
Yet, with his fame and fortune gains
The hatred still flows within his veins.
So could it be the words above
Are nothing more than podunk crud.
Hate had given its brutal thrill
His criticism of the written lines
Moved way beyond his standard whines.
You’re not capable, rhymed verse to write
This truth comes from the proof delight.
Your poetry sucks; you need to stop
You’ve written no poems, they’re all a flop.
He stated it clearly for all to hear
He is the greatest without peer
Writing poetry and stopping those
Who dared to send what they compose.
He has the proof to back his claim
No one will dare oppose his fame
His poems are known throughout the land
Everyone reads them, he is THE MAN!
Yet, with his fame and fortune gains
The hatred still flows within his veins.
So could it be the words above
Are nothing more than podunk crud.
Many Things Forgotten
There are many things he has forgot,
Some he has stated, some he has not,
His lies especially have quickly come
The lies were copies, all were dumb.
These lies he sent were so defiled
Like the excrement from a child.
They all smelled bad and were so vile
Yet each one he told with a smile.
Among these lies he loved to ride,
With the Hate alone by your side
When caught in the lies he held fast
As a retarded onion looking aghast
When liar’s eyes show no regretful tears
It’s obvious he has done this for years;
And shadows of things that will never flee
Dance weird red, flickering in words of glee.
His words of lies will vanish soon
Like the unseen shadows at noon.
The lies will insure in this stupid game
His name will be snuffed like a dying flame.
The home of his childhood and the haunts of his prime
Will all be embarrassed by the shame of his time.
No one will know his words were lies
Except the one who judges and tries.
Some he has stated, some he has not,
His lies especially have quickly come
The lies were copies, all were dumb.
These lies he sent were so defiled
Like the excrement from a child.
They all smelled bad and were so vile
Yet each one he told with a smile.
Among these lies he loved to ride,
With the Hate alone by your side
When caught in the lies he held fast
As a retarded onion looking aghast
When liar’s eyes show no regretful tears
It’s obvious he has done this for years;
And shadows of things that will never flee
Dance weird red, flickering in words of glee.
His words of lies will vanish soon
Like the unseen shadows at noon.
The lies will insure in this stupid game
His name will be snuffed like a dying flame.
The home of his childhood and the haunts of his prime
Will all be embarrassed by the shame of his time.
No one will know his words were lies
Except the one who judges and tries.
Lib'ral Fool
Lib’ral! Poor fool.
You need more school
To show how you’re so wrong;
While nought you know
Of why it’s so
You simply go along.
Such lies, such hate,
An evil state,
Remorse you never show.
No truth, no light,
Dark blight!
You really think you know.
I wish, I wish
We both could fish
And I could make you understand
That all is well
If you would tell
The truth upon demand.
You need more school
To show how you’re so wrong;
While nought you know
Of why it’s so
You simply go along.
Such lies, such hate,
An evil state,
Remorse you never show.
No truth, no light,
Dark blight!
You really think you know.
I wish, I wish
We both could fish
And I could make you understand
That all is well
If you would tell
The truth upon demand.
Where Are All The Proofs
Where are all the proofs you essayed,
And where the truth you claimed to flow?
Where the real data you portrayed
For all the evidence for we to know?
Bush’s intel and Saddam’s woe?
Rather’s docs and Cheney’s gall?
The Plamed-out lies told by old Joe?
You have the proof, then show it all.
And where the truth you claimed to flow?
Where the real data you portrayed
For all the evidence for we to know?
Bush’s intel and Saddam’s woe?
Rather’s docs and Cheney’s gall?
The Plamed-out lies told by old Joe?
You have the proof, then show it all.
The Proud Liberal
There lived a lib’ral oh so proud
And a podunker man was he;
He had a love for lying loud
Loud he did and with smiling glee.
His lies were dark, wicked and mean
From deep within his wicked soul.
He spread his filth with words obscene
Sounding just like a lib’ral troll.
Such a troll is a dork enrolled
In a life deprived of the truth.
He spins a tale with Satan’s mold
And trims it with lib’ral abuse.
"I know more things than all mankind,
And I am an expert on war,
This is my word, I have defined
And anything else I’ll just ignore!"
He said the docs were real and true
But then we found they were all fake.
Fake, fake but true, he yelled anew.
So in his head the lie still was secure.
This is the joke of lib’ral rule
And podunkers who go along,
A lib’ral’s a liar and a fool
An axiom that’s never been proven wrong!
And a podunker man was he;
He had a love for lying loud
Loud he did and with smiling glee.
His lies were dark, wicked and mean
From deep within his wicked soul.
He spread his filth with words obscene
Sounding just like a lib’ral troll.
Such a troll is a dork enrolled
In a life deprived of the truth.
He spins a tale with Satan’s mold
And trims it with lib’ral abuse.
"I know more things than all mankind,
And I am an expert on war,
This is my word, I have defined
And anything else I’ll just ignore!"
He said the docs were real and true
But then we found they were all fake.
Fake, fake but true, he yelled anew.
So in his head the lie still was secure.
This is the joke of lib’ral rule
And podunkers who go along,
A lib’ral’s a liar and a fool
An axiom that’s never been proven wrong!
The Grandeur of Ignorance
Email! And now the grandeur of ignorance, felt,
Seen and read this email full of nonsense.
Slow-witted the prose like cheese does melt,
Gumming up my drives, once ordered bytes so dense,
Mangled with the disgusting lies against truth, so tense
With the dripping hate of words which Satan’s dealt.
And why should I, a truthful man, with this take offense?
Dare not game I the stone cold of the silent hour,
So you, the ignorance, think you have such fruitful plan.
Your face of skin so thick is the face of cower,
Your words of lies prove You are that of a lesser man
As the lies spewed forth onto the earth and ran,
Ugly and subtle and fierce with evasive power,
As though forced out from your smelly rectal gland.
The words of lies possessed by Satan pervades
The once clean air that surrounds us as we sleep.
Sinister, strong are the lies as the truth fades,
How long has it been from your lies not a weep?
A cancerous growth impregnating your soul so deep
Forever darkened from the light by the shades
Of the lies and the company I would never keep.
Your brain cannot hold the splendour of truthful fast;
It’s power to think has died from sinful play.
And the truth, triumphant when I send a blast
To you while you sit in your ridiculous sway.
But the might of the truth, with you betray,
Leave you with nothing but lies that cannot last;
But if there be those can see your sense, I can’t say.
For if anyone has read your stuff with sense and trust
And tried to decipher its meaning, as a vision or dream,
His lips are now and forever sealed as a dead man’s must,
And his heart is drained of his blood as in a stream.
For no one can read your junk of mystery that seem
To twist the words of darkness and spread the liar’s dust.
Shall a truthful man of faith, reading, try to guess your theme?
Is it fear and terror that circles you round, and invades
Each vein of your life with hate - with love not here?
Each word that sucks the blood of hate for decades
Each word that portrays the evil for all things near
Rekindles with a sense of hate you hold so dear.
Is truth so repulsive to you that it in you degrades
The very essence of your life gone astray? Is truth not here?
This truth that surely still lingers and brings the light,
The truth that speaks in the silence of your heart to see,
The sense, the power that it brings to those in the night,
Or the peace that comes to those who seek in it to be,
Surely, even you, a podunker, cannot give argue to me!
Alas! The shadows of darkness has allowed truth to take flight;
But not from all, ‘tis but an ignorant dream of only thee.
Seen and read this email full of nonsense.
Slow-witted the prose like cheese does melt,
Gumming up my drives, once ordered bytes so dense,
Mangled with the disgusting lies against truth, so tense
With the dripping hate of words which Satan’s dealt.
And why should I, a truthful man, with this take offense?
Dare not game I the stone cold of the silent hour,
So you, the ignorance, think you have such fruitful plan.
Your face of skin so thick is the face of cower,
Your words of lies prove You are that of a lesser man
As the lies spewed forth onto the earth and ran,
Ugly and subtle and fierce with evasive power,
As though forced out from your smelly rectal gland.
The words of lies possessed by Satan pervades
The once clean air that surrounds us as we sleep.
Sinister, strong are the lies as the truth fades,
How long has it been from your lies not a weep?
A cancerous growth impregnating your soul so deep
Forever darkened from the light by the shades
Of the lies and the company I would never keep.
Your brain cannot hold the splendour of truthful fast;
It’s power to think has died from sinful play.
And the truth, triumphant when I send a blast
To you while you sit in your ridiculous sway.
But the might of the truth, with you betray,
Leave you with nothing but lies that cannot last;
But if there be those can see your sense, I can’t say.
For if anyone has read your stuff with sense and trust
And tried to decipher its meaning, as a vision or dream,
His lips are now and forever sealed as a dead man’s must,
And his heart is drained of his blood as in a stream.
For no one can read your junk of mystery that seem
To twist the words of darkness and spread the liar’s dust.
Shall a truthful man of faith, reading, try to guess your theme?
Is it fear and terror that circles you round, and invades
Each vein of your life with hate - with love not here?
Each word that sucks the blood of hate for decades
Each word that portrays the evil for all things near
Rekindles with a sense of hate you hold so dear.
Is truth so repulsive to you that it in you degrades
The very essence of your life gone astray? Is truth not here?
This truth that surely still lingers and brings the light,
The truth that speaks in the silence of your heart to see,
The sense, the power that it brings to those in the night,
Or the peace that comes to those who seek in it to be,
Surely, even you, a podunker, cannot give argue to me!
Alas! The shadows of darkness has allowed truth to take flight;
But not from all, ‘tis but an ignorant dream of only thee.
Absolute Truth
No matter the lies the lib’rals may bring
Or when they come in and destroy everything
The truth is what matters so don’t be betrayed
Keep with the facts, don’t let them evade
Hard times will come, with lib’rals its true
Just step back and think of what really matters to you
The truth will be there and show you the way
That no matter what happens; truth will win at the end of the day
Absolute truth is the answer for you
Relative moralism is simply not true
Hold on to the truth it won’t let you down
Lib’rals like dhimmi will stomp you into the ground
In the end it won’t matter who stomped on you
The ones who stomped will be proven untrue
Those who hold truth will still be around
Helping you up when stomped to the ground
So the next time someone stomps you
And blames it on your view
This truth is an axiom and true absolute
All lib’rals are liars and evil to boot
Or when they come in and destroy everything
The truth is what matters so don’t be betrayed
Keep with the facts, don’t let them evade
Hard times will come, with lib’rals its true
Just step back and think of what really matters to you
The truth will be there and show you the way
That no matter what happens; truth will win at the end of the day
Absolute truth is the answer for you
Relative moralism is simply not true
Hold on to the truth it won’t let you down
Lib’rals like dhimmi will stomp you into the ground
In the end it won’t matter who stomped on you
The ones who stomped will be proven untrue
Those who hold truth will still be around
Helping you up when stomped to the ground
So the next time someone stomps you
And blames it on your view
This truth is an axiom and true absolute
All lib’rals are liars and evil to boot
The Ultimate Prize
The coward liberals grew scared and daunted;
Their lies and rants scarce could stop the truth.
These lies once had rolled across ramparts vaunted,
Like the lies they spread while in their youth.
This truth cried out from every news and media box
The surge is working, spreading freedom in Iraq.
“Cannot be true,” each liberal yelled, face of pox.
Al Qaeda is losing? How can we pay them back?
Day after day, night after night,
From terrorist to terrorists the liberals went,
With money for the terrorists’ fight
Giving them great encouragement.
The liberals vowed to fight the surge,
For no other thing was more urgent,
Than stopping the defeat about to emerge
So sent more money to the insurgent.
Then, as the days moved on to weeks,
It was an ugly sight to see
These liberals lying through their cheeks
Spinning and twisting truth so free,
Blabbing in course, untruthful tones,
Resting their heads on each others’ thighs.
And listening to each others miserable moans
Sucking for lies as the ultimate prize.
These poor dumb liberals gathered in groups,
The surge kept working, how will it end?
They were so sure if they attacked our troops
Their friends the terrorists would surely win.
But our soldiers and Iraqis would not let it be:
And destroyed the murderers one and all,
And now as I roam from land to sea,
The liberal lies, I will always recall
And our great victory for all the Iraqi.
Their lies and rants scarce could stop the truth.
These lies once had rolled across ramparts vaunted,
Like the lies they spread while in their youth.
This truth cried out from every news and media box
The surge is working, spreading freedom in Iraq.
“Cannot be true,” each liberal yelled, face of pox.
Al Qaeda is losing? How can we pay them back?
Day after day, night after night,
From terrorist to terrorists the liberals went,
With money for the terrorists’ fight
Giving them great encouragement.
The liberals vowed to fight the surge,
For no other thing was more urgent,
Than stopping the defeat about to emerge
So sent more money to the insurgent.
Then, as the days moved on to weeks,
It was an ugly sight to see
These liberals lying through their cheeks
Spinning and twisting truth so free,
Blabbing in course, untruthful tones,
Resting their heads on each others’ thighs.
And listening to each others miserable moans
Sucking for lies as the ultimate prize.
These poor dumb liberals gathered in groups,
The surge kept working, how will it end?
They were so sure if they attacked our troops
Their friends the terrorists would surely win.
But our soldiers and Iraqis would not let it be:
And destroyed the murderers one and all,
And now as I roam from land to sea,
The liberal lies, I will always recall
And our great victory for all the Iraqi.
Liar's Ground
I walked upon the liars’ ground,
Where all the lib’rals live and play.
How did they have the time to find
All the lies they spread every day?
My brother lives in such a place,
Lying in each and every mail.
Does he not know about disgrace
When following in Satan’s trail?
I read his words and can’t believe
My brother lies with so much glee.
Can he really be this naive?
He'll just end up as terrorist debris!
Where all the lib’rals live and play.
How did they have the time to find
All the lies they spread every day?
My brother lives in such a place,
Lying in each and every mail.
Does he not know about disgrace
When following in Satan’s trail?
I read his words and can’t believe
My brother lies with so much glee.
Can he really be this naive?
He'll just end up as terrorist debris!
You’ve Seen Them Too
Lib’ral liars
You’ve seen them too
Baby killers
Without a clue
Weak kneed and disgusting
No integrity or pride
Hate-filled lusting
For ole Satan inside
Jealous and evil
They’ve sold their lives
To the garbage called liberal
And all that implies
They stand only for hate
Against all that is right
They can never debate
Because none are too bright
Yeh, there’s something missing
It’s called brains and respect
Respect for those willing
For democracy to protect
This poem is real
Not a copy or fake
It might be ideal
Poems - you do not partake
You’ve seen them too
Baby killers
Without a clue
Weak kneed and disgusting
No integrity or pride
Hate-filled lusting
For ole Satan inside
Jealous and evil
They’ve sold their lives
To the garbage called liberal
And all that implies
They stand only for hate
Against all that is right
They can never debate
Because none are too bright
Yeh, there’s something missing
It’s called brains and respect
Respect for those willing
For democracy to protect
This poem is real
Not a copy or fake
It might be ideal
Poems - you do not partake
Liars’ Game
Liars like to advertise their game,
Unleashing words that prove their shame.
Truth can little do but bide its time,
Letting liars continue with their crime,
Of lib’ral hate and podunk fame.
Soon, truth will ride in on the flame,
Stripping lies that show who's to blame.
Unleashing words that prove their shame.
Truth can little do but bide its time,
Letting liars continue with their crime,
Of lib’ral hate and podunk fame.
Soon, truth will ride in on the flame,
Stripping lies that show who's to blame.
A Book Review
It is easy to write a book review
‘Specially of a book not read
Write words from what you knew
Someone else has already said
Make sure you lie and tout
Your hate-filled ugly views
Of the author and what she’s all about
Make sure you add the news
That you hate her without a doubt
Then tell them all just how you knew
The book is a big waste of air
By telling the brand of shampoo
She used to wash her hair
‘Specially of a book not read
Write words from what you knew
Someone else has already said
Make sure you lie and tout
Your hate-filled ugly views
Of the author and what she’s all about
Make sure you add the news
That you hate her without a doubt
Then tell them all just how you knew
The book is a big waste of air
By telling the brand of shampoo
She used to wash her hair
Bounced Truth
The truth you wrote has bounced
It was a forgery all the way
You have no truth but you announced
The truth would be the pay
You lied about your truth account
Your bank is full of fraud
You said you had the right amount
And promised no defraud
You are a lib’ral and you lied
A dirtbag and a thief
The truth you simply can’t abide
No pity, no relief
The truth you wrote has bounced again
This time you fooled no one
The words you tell, will all contain
No truth - which shows what you have done
Your checks of truth bounced higher
Each time you sent us one or two
We all know now that you are the liar
Who told us your words were true
So take your checks and place them well
Away from sun or moon
Cause we know you and we will tell
What you can do with this old tune
It was a forgery all the way
You have no truth but you announced
The truth would be the pay
You lied about your truth account
Your bank is full of fraud
You said you had the right amount
And promised no defraud
You are a lib’ral and you lied
A dirtbag and a thief
The truth you simply can’t abide
No pity, no relief
The truth you wrote has bounced again
This time you fooled no one
The words you tell, will all contain
No truth - which shows what you have done
Your checks of truth bounced higher
Each time you sent us one or two
We all know now that you are the liar
Who told us your words were true
So take your checks and place them well
Away from sun or moon
Cause we know you and we will tell
What you can do with this old tune
The Darling Of The Fools
Little Dhimmi was the darling of the liberal fools,
He wrote about the flag, the war and the rules.
The joy of the fools, his ego’s delight;
So ugly was his soul, and his methods of spite;
No fool had surpass’d, or perhaps ever can,
Of liberal fools this one the podunk man.
His lies were so sinful, unaided by smart;
And dumb his demeanour, as spiteful his heart;
His dulled eyes a stupid flash so bedeck’d,
And fool’s sickened words by hate lightly check’d;
On his chin Laden hair had grown on his face,
And his mind never confessed the stupidity, a disgrace.
Though with truth beset, yet his brother knew,
As his ignorance was matchless, his heart was untrue,
So evil he went to attack the truth; while his brother.
His fears for this fool made him think and to shudder.
Full oft, in the gloom of reading the fool’s mail
Would shake his head in amusement to no avail.
One evening so gloomy, when the fool ranted on,
About how war wasn’t war and on wasn’t on,
The fool, whose hate was for all who didn’t agree
By a newly-made word pile, sat down full of glee.
But before he could number his lies to began
Up jumped a word still fresh from his gland.
Its hue it was deadly, its smell it was vast,
Brown and pale were its colors, that held his eyes fast.
He shriek’d a loud shriek, so delighted was he
But grimly it melted, as it rolled off his knee.
With a voice that dismay’d us, he jumped up and cried;
“That was my liberal brain! And its came from inside!”
He jumped into the word pile and gazed all around;
He grabbed and he yelled until he sunk to the ground;
With fear and with fright at what had occurred,
Though lost to his sight was the big lying word
The big lying word he tried to devour
So loudly he cried, “I’ll just make one this hour!”
Then up came a lying word, so smelly and soft,
And hit the fool's gray face just as he coughed.
His gray face extruded of lying word goo;
As the word left his lips it filled his mouth with pooh.
And the fool just sat laughing as it covered his face,
For he knew that he’d soon be back on pace.
Dark, dark was the pooh, that flowed from his lips,
For all of his lies, he now knew he would eclipse.
The moral of this tale for those who are clueless
Don’t spread pooh around unless you want a mess.
If you’re a fool, and love to tell lies
Go find a word and shove it up your thighs.
He wrote about the flag, the war and the rules.
The joy of the fools, his ego’s delight;
So ugly was his soul, and his methods of spite;
No fool had surpass’d, or perhaps ever can,
Of liberal fools this one the podunk man.
His lies were so sinful, unaided by smart;
And dumb his demeanour, as spiteful his heart;
His dulled eyes a stupid flash so bedeck’d,
And fool’s sickened words by hate lightly check’d;
On his chin Laden hair had grown on his face,
And his mind never confessed the stupidity, a disgrace.
Though with truth beset, yet his brother knew,
As his ignorance was matchless, his heart was untrue,
So evil he went to attack the truth; while his brother.
His fears for this fool made him think and to shudder.
Full oft, in the gloom of reading the fool’s mail
Would shake his head in amusement to no avail.
One evening so gloomy, when the fool ranted on,
About how war wasn’t war and on wasn’t on,
The fool, whose hate was for all who didn’t agree
By a newly-made word pile, sat down full of glee.
But before he could number his lies to began
Up jumped a word still fresh from his gland.
Its hue it was deadly, its smell it was vast,
Brown and pale were its colors, that held his eyes fast.
He shriek’d a loud shriek, so delighted was he
But grimly it melted, as it rolled off his knee.
With a voice that dismay’d us, he jumped up and cried;
“That was my liberal brain! And its came from inside!”
He jumped into the word pile and gazed all around;
He grabbed and he yelled until he sunk to the ground;
With fear and with fright at what had occurred,
Though lost to his sight was the big lying word
The big lying word he tried to devour
So loudly he cried, “I’ll just make one this hour!”
Then up came a lying word, so smelly and soft,
And hit the fool's gray face just as he coughed.
His gray face extruded of lying word goo;
As the word left his lips it filled his mouth with pooh.
And the fool just sat laughing as it covered his face,
For he knew that he’d soon be back on pace.
Dark, dark was the pooh, that flowed from his lips,
For all of his lies, he now knew he would eclipse.
The moral of this tale for those who are clueless
Don’t spread pooh around unless you want a mess.
If you’re a fool, and love to tell lies
Go find a word and shove it up your thighs.
Strangled Truth
Your lies have rolled down from your lips;
And ruthlessly strangled the truth;
And with such hate your lies eclipse,
Those you told in your youth.
Each lie you tell will serve you well
On your trip to Satan’s abode.
Don’t waste my time by your dispel
Of the truth of this episode.
Each time you lie, I prove you wrong;
But you can’t remember this fact.
You repeat the lie as if in a song
And your brain’s not really intact.
Has some dark hand throttled your spine?
Some slimy tongue slipped down your throat
Stopping the blood flow to your mind?
You're wrong for your lies and what you promote
Making you a lib’ral dote!
And ruthlessly strangled the truth;
And with such hate your lies eclipse,
Those you told in your youth.
Each lie you tell will serve you well
On your trip to Satan’s abode.
Don’t waste my time by your dispel
Of the truth of this episode.
Each time you lie, I prove you wrong;
But you can’t remember this fact.
You repeat the lie as if in a song
And your brain’s not really intact.
Has some dark hand throttled your spine?
Some slimy tongue slipped down your throat
Stopping the blood flow to your mind?
You're wrong for your lies and what you promote
Making you a lib’ral dote!
The Free Lance Writer
Whenever the Dhimmi Dale goes to town,
The people on the streets stare down on him.
He was a big liar from sole to crown,
Ugly, unshaven and filthy dhim,
And he was always spreading his lies;
And he was always nasty when he talked.
But still the hate spewed out when he said,
“I hate America,” as he walked.
And he was dumb, yes, dumber than Carter
And uneducated in every way.
We knew he was not getting smarter,
So we were glad he left each day.
So on we lived and enjoyed our rights
And were glad he was never brighter.
And Dhimmi Dale, during the calm summer nights,
Went home and declared he was a free lance writer.
The people on the streets stare down on him.
He was a big liar from sole to crown,
Ugly, unshaven and filthy dhim,
And he was always spreading his lies;
And he was always nasty when he talked.
But still the hate spewed out when he said,
“I hate America,” as he walked.
And he was dumb, yes, dumber than Carter
And uneducated in every way.
We knew he was not getting smarter,
So we were glad he left each day.
So on we lived and enjoyed our rights
And were glad he was never brighter.
And Dhimmi Dale, during the calm summer nights,
Went home and declared he was a free lance writer.
Of Liberal Gods
Hey, let us walk from liar to liar,
From their hate-filled hearts of evil delight,
To the halls of power with satanic desire,
Too good am I to join such endless blight
Asking how to gain the power of old
By speaking their lies for mounds of gold.
For them to feel is better than to know,
And truth is a spurious, useless heritage,
One pulse to feel - the truth! They told us so.
They state this fact as if from the sage:
Vex not they soul with dead philosophy,
Trust not the facts but what the heart can see!
Do you not hear the lying liberals assail
Like water stagnant in a broken jar,
So putrid it smells from fermented urine pale,
That stinks high upon the clouds so far
The facts not heard from such a smelly tune,
Hear how they lie from within the liars’ swoon.
Huge lies, from the lips of liberal’s shallow dream
The fallen men no matter from freedom’s breeze
Captures the weak podunker in its theme.
Of all the soulless, evil ideas of man’s endeavour
The liberal one, the vilest, a festering sore.
Alas! The liberals will give naught a care for their eternal store.
For these same liberals have sick and evil grown
Of truth and evidence,— they dare not please.
For when the lies of satanic plans become known
By pain or prayer or truth, they’ll never on their knees
Ask for anything other than the foulest ill
Befall those who dared to oppose their evil will.
They sit at ease, these liberals they sit at ease,
Spreading their lies to reach all mankind,
They smile the liar smile of a cold disease
With an endless line of those who they find,
Doing the deeds of the very ones they knew
What evil things the heart of man could dream then do.
And far beneath their exalted stand, they see
Like annoying gnats the crowd of other men,
The worth of which they grow so weary
Back to their selfish haunts they turn again
Kissing each other’s mouths, in prideful feel,
Their lie-induced harmony covers the truth they dare not deal.
There all day long the liars sing their song,
Their podunker, stands with his eyes a-blaze,
And when the evil web of lies are spun
He laps them up through a crimson haze
Of blood fresh from those who played the tune
And did the evil things from within the liars’ swoon.
There comes the Clinton Queen upon the liar’s steed,
Her huge black lies flowed down like putrid crust
Of day-old slime, while the one who tried with her to breed
Leaps up and down sucking at her urine dust,
His greed surpasses even hers, as if he too can share
All the young girls available for her so fair.
There in the side room of the liberals’ boast
King Obama, all his names he tries to hide,
His warm black body for the guilty pose
Which would be white but loses all its pride,
Laughs low for this joke, a stealthy al Qaedist
As he peers through evidence of this evil bliss.
O think of it! The enemy within the gates wide
To whom we can all run and give great fawn,
The Uniter, a true spirit of diversity to turn the tide
Who’ll lead us through to the morning dawn.
Upon his name, shall it not be more clear?
There was no war and that is what we all shall hear.
But for this dream of certain end, reality burst out
And with it the terrorists, for the war will show
That the liberals are liars, beyond any doubt.
As their lies cause the deaths by thousand grow,
They paint their lies on the backs of the dead,
Which to us the real Americans, we’ll vote for FRED.
From their hate-filled hearts of evil delight,
To the halls of power with satanic desire,
Too good am I to join such endless blight
Asking how to gain the power of old
By speaking their lies for mounds of gold.
For them to feel is better than to know,
And truth is a spurious, useless heritage,
One pulse to feel - the truth! They told us so.
They state this fact as if from the sage:
Vex not they soul with dead philosophy,
Trust not the facts but what the heart can see!
Do you not hear the lying liberals assail
Like water stagnant in a broken jar,
So putrid it smells from fermented urine pale,
That stinks high upon the clouds so far
The facts not heard from such a smelly tune,
Hear how they lie from within the liars’ swoon.
Huge lies, from the lips of liberal’s shallow dream
The fallen men no matter from freedom’s breeze
Captures the weak podunker in its theme.
Of all the soulless, evil ideas of man’s endeavour
The liberal one, the vilest, a festering sore.
Alas! The liberals will give naught a care for their eternal store.
For these same liberals have sick and evil grown
Of truth and evidence,— they dare not please.
For when the lies of satanic plans become known
By pain or prayer or truth, they’ll never on their knees
Ask for anything other than the foulest ill
Befall those who dared to oppose their evil will.
They sit at ease, these liberals they sit at ease,
Spreading their lies to reach all mankind,
They smile the liar smile of a cold disease
With an endless line of those who they find,
Doing the deeds of the very ones they knew
What evil things the heart of man could dream then do.
And far beneath their exalted stand, they see
Like annoying gnats the crowd of other men,
The worth of which they grow so weary
Back to their selfish haunts they turn again
Kissing each other’s mouths, in prideful feel,
Their lie-induced harmony covers the truth they dare not deal.
There all day long the liars sing their song,
Their podunker, stands with his eyes a-blaze,
And when the evil web of lies are spun
He laps them up through a crimson haze
Of blood fresh from those who played the tune
And did the evil things from within the liars’ swoon.
There comes the Clinton Queen upon the liar’s steed,
Her huge black lies flowed down like putrid crust
Of day-old slime, while the one who tried with her to breed
Leaps up and down sucking at her urine dust,
His greed surpasses even hers, as if he too can share
All the young girls available for her so fair.
There in the side room of the liberals’ boast
King Obama, all his names he tries to hide,
His warm black body for the guilty pose
Which would be white but loses all its pride,
Laughs low for this joke, a stealthy al Qaedist
As he peers through evidence of this evil bliss.
O think of it! The enemy within the gates wide
To whom we can all run and give great fawn,
The Uniter, a true spirit of diversity to turn the tide
Who’ll lead us through to the morning dawn.
Upon his name, shall it not be more clear?
There was no war and that is what we all shall hear.
But for this dream of certain end, reality burst out
And with it the terrorists, for the war will show
That the liberals are liars, beyond any doubt.
As their lies cause the deaths by thousand grow,
They paint their lies on the backs of the dead,
Which to us the real Americans, we’ll vote for FRED.
I Got A Brother
Got a brother
He’s like no other
He’s not too shy
To tell a lie
He thinks he knows
All about prose
Goes to Walmarts
Looking for smarts
China expert
Concept pervert
Believes he’s right
Knows not his plight
Spends time to read
Does not succeed
Hates the Iraqis
Loves his lackeys
Supports “The Base”
Full of disgrace
Discounts creative
Upholds probative
Has no ethics
In academics
Hates this poet
But can’t show it
He’s like no other
He’s not too shy
To tell a lie
He thinks he knows
All about prose
Goes to Walmarts
Looking for smarts
China expert
Concept pervert
Believes he’s right
Knows not his plight
Spends time to read
Does not succeed
Hates the Iraqis
Loves his lackeys
Supports “The Base”
Full of disgrace
Discounts creative
Upholds probative
Has no ethics
In academics
Hates this poet
But can’t show it
The Liar’s Crime
He’s singing the song of the liar’s crime
And cares not for the truthful rhyme
The lies of his words are proven each time
Yet he continues to spread the slime
What is it about the liberal way
That causes so many to play
At first each one has something say
But later the truth they betray
So many lies have been spewed out
One sees why they always must shout
The lies prove what they’re all about
These liars the country can do without
And cares not for the truthful rhyme
The lies of his words are proven each time
Yet he continues to spread the slime
What is it about the liberal way
That causes so many to play
At first each one has something say
But later the truth they betray
So many lies have been spewed out
One sees why they always must shout
The lies prove what they’re all about
These liars the country can do without
A September Night
The September night arrives with another lie as before
Except for a desire to laugh, I sit reading at ease
I open the email and double click the icon once more.
I feel like I am reading someone on his hands and knees.
“Bush is a liar, has murdered my innocent terrorists.”
“The turkey was plastic and you live with the Chinese.”
Mmmm, I muse, sounds like words from lib’ral Satanists.
“Perhaps you can prove your allegations.”
The logic flowed as I penned this request.
Of course, I wrote with low expectations
Knowing that all lib’rals lie, hist’ry can attest.
Never mind, I thought as I hit the “send”.
Just another September night dealing with lies.
I do live in China and that he did portend,
But the rest was lib’ral lies something I despise!
Within a few minutes, stone cold silence hits
My computer freezes over from an idiot response
The email also proves that my axiom really fits:
All lib’rals lie and scheme in so much nonchalance.
The lib’rals refuse to act as if they’re human beings
What can one make of an email filled with silence
From a dhimmi who loves to lie as do all the lib’ral lemmings.
The answer comes to mind: execute or deport this very instance.
Except for a desire to laugh, I sit reading at ease
I open the email and double click the icon once more.
I feel like I am reading someone on his hands and knees.
“Bush is a liar, has murdered my innocent terrorists.”
“The turkey was plastic and you live with the Chinese.”
Mmmm, I muse, sounds like words from lib’ral Satanists.
“Perhaps you can prove your allegations.”
The logic flowed as I penned this request.
Of course, I wrote with low expectations
Knowing that all lib’rals lie, hist’ry can attest.
Never mind, I thought as I hit the “send”.
Just another September night dealing with lies.
I do live in China and that he did portend,
But the rest was lib’ral lies something I despise!
Within a few minutes, stone cold silence hits
My computer freezes over from an idiot response
The email also proves that my axiom really fits:
All lib’rals lie and scheme in so much nonchalance.
The lib’rals refuse to act as if they’re human beings
What can one make of an email filled with silence
From a dhimmi who loves to lie as do all the lib’ral lemmings.
The answer comes to mind: execute or deport this very instance.
Another Day Of Ignorance
Another day of ignorance,
A glorious sun and sky,
But all for naught with this offense
The lies are passing by.
In lib’ral chants and on the press,
Without a care so trite,
They repeat the lies with peacefulness,
Their words are never right.
The lies are richly done, like silk,
Core covered with sweet words fair
And sound as pure as fresh poured milk
If it wasn’t for the harm they bare.
Each lie of the same old style
That long ago proved fake,
They must be stupid all the while
Thinking we would take the cake.
The truth’s not here from days gone by
The lies are now their best
Their guilt and shame are carried high
As if by sin obsessed;
As each one speaks - out come the lies
The lies of hate or worse.
On every day throughout the years,
The lies cause them to curse.
Although the truth is always free,
They choose not to partake.
They love the lies to spread with glee.
And never admit a mistake.
Instinctively, they cheer the dead
Caused by al Qaeda in Iraq.
This is what they’ve always said.
These are people whom we mock.
They have not known the cold and heat
And the reality of the fight.
None has felt the sting of defeat
But think they deserve that right
To lie and spread the words of hate
Among the ones who do the deeds.
They call themselves “elite,”
But not so long ago
They were communists of deceit
Pushing treason and woe.
Now they cover these words reversed
But still to al Qaeda give support,
And smear and slander with the worst.
What we should do? Execute or deport.
A glorious sun and sky,
But all for naught with this offense
The lies are passing by.
In lib’ral chants and on the press,
Without a care so trite,
They repeat the lies with peacefulness,
Their words are never right.
The lies are richly done, like silk,
Core covered with sweet words fair
And sound as pure as fresh poured milk
If it wasn’t for the harm they bare.
Each lie of the same old style
That long ago proved fake,
They must be stupid all the while
Thinking we would take the cake.
The truth’s not here from days gone by
The lies are now their best
Their guilt and shame are carried high
As if by sin obsessed;
As each one speaks - out come the lies
The lies of hate or worse.
On every day throughout the years,
The lies cause them to curse.
Although the truth is always free,
They choose not to partake.
They love the lies to spread with glee.
And never admit a mistake.
Instinctively, they cheer the dead
Caused by al Qaeda in Iraq.
This is what they’ve always said.
These are people whom we mock.
They have not known the cold and heat
And the reality of the fight.
None has felt the sting of defeat
But think they deserve that right
To lie and spread the words of hate
Among the ones who do the deeds.
They call themselves “elite,”
But not so long ago
They were communists of deceit
Pushing treason and woe.
Now they cover these words reversed
But still to al Qaeda give support,
And smear and slander with the worst.
What we should do? Execute or deport.
A Sorry Story
NOW think you well, you liars dear,
These words which I shall write;
A sorry story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to light.
A podunker of low account
In Podunk dwelt of late,
Who did in lying far surmount
Most men in his small state.
Insane he was and did oft lie,
About which he knew were true;
His bud told him he just might fry,
For things in life you do.
No words were heard by this dumbass,
So typical of his kind;
In lies he lives, with lies he’ll pass,
Unable to wipe his behind:
He cries and screams when with critique
About the junk he writes.
Your poems are hateful he would shriek
Referring to my great insights.
Only I am published he blurted out
And thus I know your junk.
But all he did was sit and spout
The lies of the lib’ral podunk!
These words which I shall write;
A sorry story you shall hear,
In time brought forth to light.
A podunker of low account
In Podunk dwelt of late,
Who did in lying far surmount
Most men in his small state.
Insane he was and did oft lie,
About which he knew were true;
His bud told him he just might fry,
For things in life you do.
No words were heard by this dumbass,
So typical of his kind;
In lies he lives, with lies he’ll pass,
Unable to wipe his behind:
He cries and screams when with critique
About the junk he writes.
Your poems are hateful he would shriek
Referring to my great insights.
Only I am published he blurted out
And thus I know your junk.
But all he did was sit and spout
The lies of the lib’ral podunk!
A Mellowing Experience
Give him no frozen or mellow disdain
For he has accomplished miracles great
This gives him the right to lie once again
Since these miracles were done of late
Such lies can be washed away by such acts
Regardless of their ugly smears
Do some good or fake all the facts
And never worry about what Satan cheers
He is the only one to do some good
At least in his own shallow mind
The rest of us just sit around if we could
Doing mellow work of some kind
For he has accomplished miracles great
This gives him the right to lie once again
Since these miracles were done of late
Such lies can be washed away by such acts
Regardless of their ugly smears
Do some good or fake all the facts
And never worry about what Satan cheers
He is the only one to do some good
At least in his own shallow mind
The rest of us just sit around if we could
Doing mellow work of some kind
Mockery
Geez! What mockery are these lies you tell!
Cast forth in hate and pain from your ugly tongue,
Most like an excrement, straight from hell
Senseless comments: unreasoned, ugly dung,
The symbol of Satan’s minions all unsung.
Your lies, upon earth, fight the truth in toil.
You push, you strive, you work with the worst
To deprive the truth of its place by turmoil.
The hatred you bear cannot slake the thirst
Of those who are known as the Satan’s cursed.
In vain you will rationalize your hateful way
As you barter your soul for greed so cold.
When you sit down at the liar’s buffet
Remember it’s truth that’s just been sold.
And you’ve done it all without a blindfold.
Cast forth in hate and pain from your ugly tongue,
Most like an excrement, straight from hell
Senseless comments: unreasoned, ugly dung,
The symbol of Satan’s minions all unsung.
Your lies, upon earth, fight the truth in toil.
You push, you strive, you work with the worst
To deprive the truth of its place by turmoil.
The hatred you bear cannot slake the thirst
Of those who are known as the Satan’s cursed.
In vain you will rationalize your hateful way
As you barter your soul for greed so cold.
When you sit down at the liar’s buffet
Remember it’s truth that’s just been sold.
And you’ve done it all without a blindfold.
My Vomit Box
As lies come out when days are bright
A vomit box is my delight
I sit around with just this thing
And reconstruct a chicken wing
Before your lies have come and gone
I sat so peaceful no truth undone
But from your lips the lies have spread
And then with shame you went to bed
Your current lies raise such a smell
The liars' stench from Satan's hell.
Each one you spoke with such a rant
Think maybe you were arrogant?
The flag of colors flies on high
Your hatred for it does apply
Arms upraised in a Nazi sign
Ignorant lib'rals undermine.
The flag you say is just a rag
Flies for me but for you a drag.
Your hateful words no more deserve
To be remembered or even heard.
The sickened belch of your swaggered lies
Remind me of the truth you despise.
As winter rolls upon your fall
The words you spew make you so small.
There are in China special words
For liars who spew forth such turds.
These words are simple; not to hard,
But the words don't mean a poet bard.
A vomit box is my delight
I sit around with just this thing
And reconstruct a chicken wing
Before your lies have come and gone
I sat so peaceful no truth undone
But from your lips the lies have spread
And then with shame you went to bed
Your current lies raise such a smell
The liars' stench from Satan's hell.
Each one you spoke with such a rant
Think maybe you were arrogant?
The flag of colors flies on high
Your hatred for it does apply
Arms upraised in a Nazi sign
Ignorant lib'rals undermine.
The flag you say is just a rag
Flies for me but for you a drag.
Your hateful words no more deserve
To be remembered or even heard.
The sickened belch of your swaggered lies
Remind me of the truth you despise.
As winter rolls upon your fall
The words you spew make you so small.
There are in China special words
For liars who spew forth such turds.
These words are simple; not to hard,
But the words don't mean a poet bard.
Road Kill
They sit on the wrong side of right
Badmouthing and slandering good.
They live for hate in evil spite
To destroy America if they could.
They are the liars of the left,
These creeping, slimy little turds.
They lie but with remorse bereft.
They - the enemy, mark my words.
They hate the flag with all its stars,
Ignoring the truth; embracing the lies
All are road kill, flattened by cars,
Brainless robots (with all that implies).
Badmouthing and slandering good.
They live for hate in evil spite
To destroy America if they could.
They are the liars of the left,
These creeping, slimy little turds.
They lie but with remorse bereft.
They - the enemy, mark my words.
They hate the flag with all its stars,
Ignoring the truth; embracing the lies
All are road kill, flattened by cars,
Brainless robots (with all that implies).
The World Of Little Dhimmis
The world of little Dhimmis
Is a place where you will find
A bunch of lying stories
To jumble up your mind
To stimulate your evil side;
Leave truth behind.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
He came from out of podunkville,
As do all liars, it seems.
His lies have made the world aware
That liars have liberals genes;
And truths that we hold sacred
He’ll squander is his dreams.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
A lib’ral by our definition
Is a virus of the mind.
His dreams are his source
For lib’rals of this kind,
Which glorify the lib’ral, of course,
Who turns out to be blind.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
His lies are always extended
In a novel point view.
It shows us how the lies affect
Beyond just me and you.
The world will always respond
To the biggest lie’s debut.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
The river out of Washita
Flows beside this liar’s place
He spreads his lies oh so far
To all the human race.
It’s possible you’ve heard these lies
And even bought their guise.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
In trying to find the thing that’s real
Your chances may look bleak
Perhaps the dhimmi’s done a deal
With the very thing you seek.
But never mind what dhimmi says
He’s flunked the truthful quiz.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
Is a place where you will find
A bunch of lying stories
To jumble up your mind
To stimulate your evil side;
Leave truth behind.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
He came from out of podunkville,
As do all liars, it seems.
His lies have made the world aware
That liars have liberals genes;
And truths that we hold sacred
He’ll squander is his dreams.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
A lib’ral by our definition
Is a virus of the mind.
His dreams are his source
For lib’rals of this kind,
Which glorify the lib’ral, of course,
Who turns out to be blind.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
His lies are always extended
In a novel point view.
It shows us how the lies affect
Beyond just me and you.
The world will always respond
To the biggest lie’s debut.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
The river out of Washita
Flows beside this liar’s place
He spreads his lies oh so far
To all the human race.
It’s possible you’ve heard these lies
And even bought their guise.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
In trying to find the thing that’s real
Your chances may look bleak
Perhaps the dhimmi’s done a deal
With the very thing you seek.
But never mind what dhimmi says
He’s flunked the truthful quiz.
O, be ready for the cunning lie,
Lies full of hatred.
O, be ready for the cunning lie.
The Liar's Brand
This podunk boy, with lib’ral woes
Thinks he writes exceptional prose
“I’m published,” he loves to disclose
And all things right he does oppose
He claims I write these lines from hate
And they are silly and do not rate
His is a master with words so great
And to this known fact there is no debate
Unfortunately for this brilliant podunk
His words are hollow, full of bunk
He writes as if he is half drunk
Spewing nonsense and other junk
I’ve read his stuff and it is bland
Lib’ral crap from his podunk gland
He writes the lies as on demand
The living proof of his liar’s brand
Thinks he writes exceptional prose
“I’m published,” he loves to disclose
And all things right he does oppose
He claims I write these lines from hate
And they are silly and do not rate
His is a master with words so great
And to this known fact there is no debate
Unfortunately for this brilliant podunk
His words are hollow, full of bunk
He writes as if he is half drunk
Spewing nonsense and other junk
I’ve read his stuff and it is bland
Lib’ral crap from his podunk gland
He writes the lies as on demand
The living proof of his liar’s brand
Sophomoric Verses
Living in self-made delusions;
Surrounded by a shroud of lies;
Enclosed by false conclusions;
Drowning in the truth you despise.
This sophomoric truth rises,
Alive, unable to breech
Your hatred, no surprises.
But still you preach!
Sophomoric poems you say?
Truth will never rely on you,
Unable to poetically convery
A thought or concept new.
Gather’d together with fools
Who rationalize their hate
Of truth and honest rules
So all they can do is berate.
The sophomoric verses I write,
Dig deep at your ego
Slicing with truth so right
As I upset your vertigo.
The sophomore lines I sent
Are more than you have done.
I know you can’t invent
A freshman verse of one.
So why pretend to be
A critic so renown?
Anyone can see
You, a podunker clown.
Surrounded by a shroud of lies;
Enclosed by false conclusions;
Drowning in the truth you despise.
This sophomoric truth rises,
Alive, unable to breech
Your hatred, no surprises.
But still you preach!
Sophomoric poems you say?
Truth will never rely on you,
Unable to poetically convery
A thought or concept new.
Gather’d together with fools
Who rationalize their hate
Of truth and honest rules
So all they can do is berate.
The sophomoric verses I write,
Dig deep at your ego
Slicing with truth so right
As I upset your vertigo.
The sophomore lines I sent
Are more than you have done.
I know you can’t invent
A freshman verse of one.
So why pretend to be
A critic so renown?
Anyone can see
You, a podunker clown.
Child Of The Lies
Podunker Dale, child of the lies
Told lies to cover his lib'ral butte
He had to tip dance and rationalize
When all his lies were ripped and cut
Podunker loved the lies he told
Ugly things reflected his tip dancing
A vision of the liar bold
Proud as one in righteous prancing
Podunker lied for what was not
And dreamed for a socialist state
Hoping for Castro and all men who fought
Against the country of his fate
Podunker mourned the Bush success
Of such a great economy
He'd like to see a big recess
And a loss by our troops in destiny
Podunker loved Ms. Hillary
Albeit he had never seen her
He would have sinned incessantly
With Ms. Hillary to confer
Podunker cursed his little bro'
And eyed his creds with loathing
He was not man enough to know
How to wear the military clothing
Podunker scoured the news to read
For the big lie he can say
These lies for other lib'ral breed
A contempt for the American way
Podunker Dale, born with the hate
Scratched his head and kept on lying
Podunker cared not, so he called it fate
The lies, he kept on supplying
Told lies to cover his lib'ral butte
He had to tip dance and rationalize
When all his lies were ripped and cut
Podunker loved the lies he told
Ugly things reflected his tip dancing
A vision of the liar bold
Proud as one in righteous prancing
Podunker lied for what was not
And dreamed for a socialist state
Hoping for Castro and all men who fought
Against the country of his fate
Podunker mourned the Bush success
Of such a great economy
He'd like to see a big recess
And a loss by our troops in destiny
Podunker loved Ms. Hillary
Albeit he had never seen her
He would have sinned incessantly
With Ms. Hillary to confer
Podunker cursed his little bro'
And eyed his creds with loathing
He was not man enough to know
How to wear the military clothing
Podunker scoured the news to read
For the big lie he can say
These lies for other lib'ral breed
A contempt for the American way
Podunker Dale, born with the hate
Scratched his head and kept on lying
Podunker cared not, so he called it fate
The lies, he kept on supplying
A Dhimmi Lives In Oklahoma
Dhimmi lives in Oklahoma
A place of culture and the right
So why act he as in a coma
Spreading the plague of lib’ral blight.
All his lies are common as tornados
Proven destructive to the throngs
Who sit and believe his bravados
Unable to fathom all the lib’ral wrongs.
Dhimmi climbs upon his pulpit mighty
Singing hymns from Satan’s chorus;
Preaching it’s all due to evil whitey;
Seeing only dead trees in the forest.
Like the now long gone horny toad,
The truth has left him years ago,
In exchange for that wide and easy road
That his master promises in escrow.
Dhimmi lives in multiculture
Yet hates all those who with him disagrees
His view is that of a vulture
Feasting on the entrails of his disease
He loves to preach the concept of diversity
But that means only one thing to his kind
Skin color is Dhimmi’s perversity
But never will be from the diff’rent mind.
Dhimmi seems to be forgetting
A diff’rent culture means a diff’rent mind
"No it doesn’t," shouts dhimmi panting
"Only the lib’ral view is so refined
With only evil rightwingers believing
Something diff’rent than what I say.
Moral values are deceiving
So we must all follow the lib’ral way."
Dhimmi really is from Oklahoma
The state that gave us Tom Coburn
And, yes, Dhimmi is in a coma
Been that way and probably won’t return.
His brain sleeps in a lib’ral mist
Of lies and stupid hate-filled rants.
Everyday he sends me garbage to insist
He’s right, sounds just like the other Satan servants.
A place of culture and the right
So why act he as in a coma
Spreading the plague of lib’ral blight.
All his lies are common as tornados
Proven destructive to the throngs
Who sit and believe his bravados
Unable to fathom all the lib’ral wrongs.
Dhimmi climbs upon his pulpit mighty
Singing hymns from Satan’s chorus;
Preaching it’s all due to evil whitey;
Seeing only dead trees in the forest.
Like the now long gone horny toad,
The truth has left him years ago,
In exchange for that wide and easy road
That his master promises in escrow.
Dhimmi lives in multiculture
Yet hates all those who with him disagrees
His view is that of a vulture
Feasting on the entrails of his disease
He loves to preach the concept of diversity
But that means only one thing to his kind
Skin color is Dhimmi’s perversity
But never will be from the diff’rent mind.
Dhimmi seems to be forgetting
A diff’rent culture means a diff’rent mind
"No it doesn’t," shouts dhimmi panting
"Only the lib’ral view is so refined
With only evil rightwingers believing
Something diff’rent than what I say.
Moral values are deceiving
So we must all follow the lib’ral way."
Dhimmi really is from Oklahoma
The state that gave us Tom Coburn
And, yes, Dhimmi is in a coma
Been that way and probably won’t return.
His brain sleeps in a lib’ral mist
Of lies and stupid hate-filled rants.
Everyday he sends me garbage to insist
He’s right, sounds just like the other Satan servants.
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