Easy To Deny

You said the lie, oh so quick,
Hateful, ugly but not a surprise,
I saw right away that you were sick,
Then, that hate-filled lie did arise.

Your belief in the lie was so strong,
You claimed the truth for which you love.
I wondered if you knew you were wrong,
But then you shouted with a figurative shove.

I know you’re wrong, the truth not near,
To say the lie as if you were the ONE.
Sometimes your ignorance, I say with a tear,
Knowing full well the hateful words will come.

It really was a lie, you ignorant podunk,
The longer you believe, repeating the lie
The wider the door for which you have sunk,
And the easier it is for you to deny.

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Skips over facts as if repealed.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.

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.