Murder means oil for Bush's coffer (Free verse) by DreamerSupreme
Roguery brews in the depths- feel like going to war?
Offer suburban concrete blood of whore?
Perhaps bash pedestrians with a car-door?
Can already smell the scent of curdling gore
and taste the lipstick that most abhor.
Murder creeps in silence, without screams-
only gasps from stifled breathing.
Embrace the storm slowly seething,
give life and vigor to taboo dreams.
Its healthy- and good for the economy.
(good to have an excuse to engage in open abuse)
Its a lot like gardening; weeds need to be pulled,
and soil enjoys shovels stir. Donate corpses-
Bush needs more oil for his jeweled coffer.
Teach the meek to rock'n'roll.
Enforce population control-
Jesus says its good for the soul.
Coked out grim-reaper on the prowl,
head covered in the glowin cowl.
Iron scythe damp from a night's incising,
graveyard shift ended with the suns rising.
Upset the calm stillness, make America pure.
blade or projectile- murder is a cure
isn't it fun to be hostile?
Everyman owns a shadow;
from darkness comes light,
flee and it will only follow.
Back to poem details
February 14, 2007 5:02 PM PST
June 5, 2005 12:16 PM PDT
February 2, 2005 8:06 PM PST
January 20, 2004 1:44 PM PST
January 20, 2004 12:40 PM PST
November 24, 2003 12:43 PM PST
November 24, 2003 12:15 PM PST
November 24, 2003 3:13 AM PST
November 23, 2003 4:48 PM PST
November 23, 2003 11:07 AM PST