The Devil's Torment

My lame and podunker brother,
With proof he lies as no other,
Still sends the lies of hate so vile,
Matching again the lib’ral style.

Despite the truth to him revealed,
Skips over facts as if repealed.
Sees only hate through liar’s eyes
Rejecting the truth in full despise.

Where now the darkened heart resides,
Lives fast the symbol that provides,
The hate that chides his mortal soul
In savage lust for lies his goal.

His soul’s remorseless book of lies,
With each new email multiplies.
His frantic breath keeps up the rave,
That lies are good and proves he’s brave.

As articulate as a slab of stone
His words are worthless and unknown.
He reeks of ash from burned out scorn,
A sweaty-toothed mad man, hate worn.

Against the truth he lives and stands,
Hateful bile pouring from his glands.
His words are couched in ugly vent
Proof of a soul in the devil’s torment.

He cries out loud with all his might,
Iraq is lost, there’s no need to fight.
He screams about the evil war.
As for the terrorists he does adore.

For him the bird in Iraq was phony,
Just a plastic piece of Bush baloney.
It doesn’t matter the bird was eaten,
The truth for him will never be written.

Against this void of human tolerance,
There is no truth among such ignorance.
Think you twice, before you join this cause,
A cause of hatred, lies and full of flaws.

Accept these facts for what they are,
As real and truthful as the great north star.
Cast not your pearls among such swine,
They are a scourge causing their own decline.

Attritions

The truth lies buried under ground
Your incredulity and your frown
Play games across your face
As if the small attritions trace
The subject from some secret noun
The grammar from Hussein, the clown

Hussein’s gnat-like buzzings oh so shrill
Common lies from the liberal will
The dancing in the liberal street
All coagulate at your feet
Wrapped in hatred so vile a crown
One wonders if you’ll in it drown

And once again, you look askance
The obvious touch of circumstance
Of hate-filled souls who cannot gauge
Their master’s evil heritage
It is not Hussein who leads the dance
He’s but a pawn without a chance

This pawn Hussein knows full well
He’s but messenger an empty shell
His job is to sell his evil way
To take home the prize on election day
He wants for all to share and dwell
With his great master down in Hell

The Three Flourescents Shining

I sit at my desk and look up at the light,
Three flourescents shining very bright,
The emails from one of my older brothers,
Arrive along with a bunch of others.
He hates our soldiers as they die,
While praising liberals when they lie.

I lean back in my chair reading his words I abhor
He supports the terrorist in this bloody war.
The three flourescents continue to shine
My brother really believes he is divine.
The terrorists murder an innocent victim
And all he does is curse the system.

He hates the ones who are fighting the war
When told the truth he will simply ignore.
He hates anyone who disagrees
But agrees with those who would appease.

He thinks Hussein is really great
And hopes a socialist rule to create


I go to bed and close my eyes
And hear the victims mournful cries.
They’re blown to bits by terrorist thugs
While my dear brother wants to give them hugs.
It’s not their fault, don’t you see?
We’re the ones who forced their spree.

Then I hear a little voice say
What idiot could possibly think this way?
The choice was theirs and not ours,
So why do the liberals send them flowers?
They hate our God and who we are
But ask my brother, he’s really bizarre!

In The Name Of Philosophy

In the name of philosophy
In a country mired in your lies
When truth overtakes your jubilee
Your silence uncovers your disguise

No longer can you claim integrity
In the name of your dark philosophy
In a country mired in your lies
We know it’s America you despise

The Podunk Hour

It is the podunk hour, that time
which brings forward a burst of rhyme.
As I do every day, I fall into my chair,
in front of the Mac. I think in despair
Dhimmi will send his trash again,
though in despair, I won’t complain.
The day grows old. Today I read,
Dhimmi is defending liberal greed.
His words are where the cold goes to sleep.
When logic is lost, it empties into the garbage heap
that he refers to as his head
something which needs not be said.

It is 2008. Spring.
Upon my desk, the lies sing
out from Dhimmi’s last two emails.
In him the logic fails.
Let me in my final lines
express this as a symbol that undermines
the very excess of his hate-filled diatribes.
The symbol of the swastika that perfectly describes
the modern liberal bought and sold with bribes.