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.
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