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A Poem For George Bush (Free verse) by Edna Sweetlove

Dedicated to Mr G.W.Bush c/o The White House Washington DC USA A few words to thank you for invading our land: Thank you for getting rid of that Saddam Hussein (So sad you found none of the weapons you sold him) Thank you for killing off thousands of our women And maiming thousand upon countless thousand more With your illegal chemical weapons and bombs. We loved our recent democratic elections Even more than the corrupt interim regime Set up to supervise all the devastation Caused by your nice marauding psychopathic troops. And we know it's nothing at all to do with oil Or diverting attention from domestic problems. Now that summer is a coming in we're so pleased That the electric supplies are working so well So we can enjoy nice luke-warm coca cola As we swelter underneath the warm desert sun. But we are so pleased the US army bases Have their air conditioning in tip-top order. So eagerly are we all now looking forward To the thrilling civil war due to start quite soon; You see, it will be an exciting four-way fight: Sunnis vs. Shias vs. Kurds vs. the invaders. Except you'll find some excuse to pull out Just in time before the body count gets too high. We also want to thank your British lapdog, Blair, And do console him that he will be out on his neck, Reputation ruined, thanks to his warlike stance. But every cloud has its silver lining, so reflect: America stands loathed worldwide, even by its friends, As your hegemony draws to its inevitable end. From Al-i-Baba (On behalf of the bloodstained Iraqi people)

Dovina 14-Aug-06/5:45 PM
Yes, and we realize that sufficient time has not elapsed for a proper retraction to be composed for the following:

“For hundreds of years Man has tried to tame the Negro, but in all that time only one Negro can be said to have been fully domesticated, and that was Bill Cosby. Since then, Negroes have laid their eggs all over America, and where once a single Man, whipping for 24 hours a day, was enough to curb their beastly urges, Townsfolk now need to employ fifty such Men, each of them whipping furiously, drenched in sweat, and unable to adjust their Wellingtons. Eventually, they die of exposure. It is true, a Man may befriend a Negro, but that is simpy because the Negro is trying to lure the Man back to its burrow so it can make him watch Sidney Poitier films. Quite frankly, the 'doubt and reluctance' we all feel when approaching Negroes is the only thing stopping us from spouting afros and covering ourselves in ridiculous gold trinklets.” http://poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=124271




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