Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Sinking Jittery Replica With Six Electrical Fingers

"What about
a public option
with a 'crossed
our fingers
behind our backs
so it doesn't
really count'


"Ask the man
if he believes
that Jesus Christ
is the Son of God

and he will give you
a 10-minute
disertation [sic]
about it when
the answer should
simply be 'yes'"

"The Washington Post
can't go out
of business
fast enough"

"How do you
get a job
on television
if you appear to be
one of those people

who need to pin
their address
to their coat
so a stranger
can help them find
their way home?"

"Who do these people
think they are,

that they can tell us
when we can procreate?"

"This is slavery,
it’s nothing more
than slavery"

"Move closer
to where
we're protesting"

"The following persons
shall be disqualified
for office:
First, any person
who shall deny
the being
of Almighty God . . ."

"He is a man
without a soul
and, as a soulless

his actions
are not hampered
by trivial moral

"It's Taco Sauce Spritzer
followed by
a trip to Baltimore"

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Hooray For Our Chains (25)

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

Glenn Beck Muzzles the Horse-Trams and Assembles Grandfatherly Fondness

"Where have you been, Shimmy?"

The branches of the Mayakovsky Tree bowed, trampled by last night's snow. Each branch congealed with crude words and spite.

"Glenn Beck is styling a festive policy," I said. The radiator shuddered. I dipped my puffy eyes.

I stretched out like an apostle rummaging for machine parts and conjugations on the window sill.

"The door opens and you run into the hallway," The Mayakovsky Tree said, flakes clamped to every limb. "The dogs upstairs have moved away. Congratulations, my curly-ringed comrade of posterity! You scared them off. The door opens into the hallway. Where do you go? Where have you been?"

I concocted a pair of hands, a minute little godlet that opened bathtub spigot.

"You shake your head, curlylocks?" the Mayakovsky Tree continued. "The Pit Bull's fangs sharpen, Shimmy. Glenn Beck opened the Pit Bull's mouth as he would the shutters of his own house -- with a 'break' or 'parting' stick used to pry open fighting dogs' mouths during dog fights."

"Glenn Beck commands a glittering brigade of bright helmets, lame cambrics, and shaggy camomiles," I said. I stood hunched by the window and my brow melted the glass.

"His boots are braced against a Pit Bull's ribs. Glenn Beck said, 'If I can muzzle the horse-trams and assemble grandfatherly fondness, I can fill the last voluble television.'"

"As the country's personal canker, Glenn Beck's weeping libido sonatas might sell more books," I said, "but is it worth the price for those dogs (Pit Bulls) he tortured and killed?"

The Mayakovsky Tree leaned his burning cheek into the wind.

"Two can play at the gangway," he said.

"Two can dance and pipe on pipes for days for lack of something to shout or say."

"Glenn Beck is making cruets out of eggshells, Shimmy, and etching them with swans!"