Worst Poem EVER...

[amjsjc]

Recently found on FR:

The ENEMY forged the stolen steel
Delighted at the pain we would soon feel
A hot branding iron to burn a 9 and 11
In the hearts of all righteous under Heaven
The demons smiled and admired their work
Then dedicated it with an unholy curse


The plans were laid well, the deceptions intact
With stooges called "martyrs" they began the attack
They boarded the planes with thin, tight-lipped smiles
Politely nodding to each small child
- In a short time they’d know TERROR too real
When their KILLERS captured the pilot’s wheel


May the TWIN TOWERS of bright beacon light
Forever shine above the Manhattan night
Two tall phantoms where skyscrapers stood
Speak out for the silent, who would - if they could!
Shattered households of countless lives
And an ocean of tears from INNOCENT eyes


So where is "JUSTICE" to be found
For the VICTIMS who died on this hallowed ground?
WHO speaks for those shot down in our streets
For the families now scarred with life’s deepest grief?
Remember they are: "AMERICA’S GOLD!"
Unfurl our great flag, - and "LET’S ROLL!,"


So stand your ground as you cast your vote
Beware of the liberals, and "JUST SAY NO!"
They’d sell us ALL out, - just to stay in power
Secretly undermining the foundation of LIBERTY’S TOWER
Judge righteous judgement and remember their shame
Get rid of ALL who tarnish AMERICA’S name!


And what about those who kill our children?
When the jury goes out, - please don’t forget them!
AMERICA’S STILL GOOD, so put THAT in the news
And if you attack US, …YOU’RE going to lose!
We’re a clan of ALL CREEDS, though different colors
But we’ll fight to the death, - because WE ARE BROTHERS!


So remember these words each, ELECTION DAY
You can’t always tell a TERRORIST by what they say
They don’t all cross oceans to live right among us
- SOME ARE EVEN, …MEMBERS OF CONGRESS!!!
So stand for what’s right, - as proud AMERICANS,
- DO SOMETHING GOOD: - vote: REPUBLICAN!!!


Stan Simons (RADICAL POET)

[MadProphetMargin]

1. Rudyard Kipling, you are obsolete! This guy is a frickin' JENYUS!

:lol:

[Swamp Rat]

2. I got through the first four lines... it's so bad it could be a Toby Keith

or Charlie Daniels song. I cannot bring myself to read more of this Nazi-like propaganda.

[UdoKier]

3. How could you even read through the whole thing?

ZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!

[amjsjc]

20. I didn't actually...

I just skimmed. That was quite enough.

[Lucky Luciano]

4. This is truly ridiculous..............

It really seems like a 7 year old wrote this.

[drhilarius]

5. Yes, a "radical poet" who stresses the importance...

of conformity and stereotyping.
Truly, this Stan Simons (or rather, Ezra Pound II) is a humanist after my own heart. I don't know what most impressed me. Some "poets" might try to go for a boring ol' Shakespearean sonnet, while still others may mix it up with some Terza Rima. But Stan Simons (O, beloved muse) uses an innovative aabbccdd...etc. Who, I ask, who could ever get tired of couplets repeated ad nauseam. But of course, I'm being far to simple with this explication. For you see, he mixes it up (you are a clever one, Stan Simons) by having several strained rhymes- "Gold"/ "roll", "Streets"/"grief", and, my favorite, the elegant and natural "vote"/"no". So, Stan Simons, I can safely say that "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is no longer my favorite poem. Pinsky-commie. Neruda-whoneedsya? Dos passos-dum assos. Donne-done!
As you can see, I don't much care for Repubs who dabble in the literary arts. To be a poet one needs what they pretend to have-compassion and empathy.

[MadProphetMargin]

6. Compare that excrement to THIS little gem by Kipling, that could have been

written for GWB:

A snip from "Cleared" by Rudyard Kipling (public domain):

"Cleared," honorable gentlemen. Be thankful it's no more:
The widow's curse is on your house, the dead are at your door.
On you the shame of open shame, on you from North to South
The band of every honest man flat-heeled across your mouth.

"Less black than we were painted"?--Faith, no word of black was said;
The lightest touch was human blood, and that, ye know, runs red.
It's sticking to your fist today for all your sneer and scoff,
And by the Judge's well-weighed word you cannot wipe it off.

Hold up those hands of innocence--go, scare your sheep, together,
The blundering, tripping tups that bleat behind the old bell-wether;
And if they snuff the taint and break to find another pen,
Tell them it's tar that glistens so, and daub them yours again!

"The charge is old"?--As old as Cain--as fresh as yesterday;
Old as the Ten Commandments, have ye talked those laws away?
If words are words, or death is death, or powder sends the ball,
You spoke the words that sped the shot--the curse be on you all.

"Our friends believe"? Of course they do--as sheltered women may;
But have they seen the shrieking soul ripped from the quivering clay?
They--If their own front door is shut, they'll swear the whole world's warm;
What do they know of dread of death or hanging fear of harm?

The secret half a country keeps, the whisper in the lane,
The shriek that tells the shot went home behind the broken pane,
The dry blood crisping in the sun that scares the honest bees,
And shows the "bhoys" have heard your talk--what do they know of these?

But you--you know--ay, ten times more; the secrets of the dead,
Black terror on the country-side by word and whisper bred,
The mangled stallion's scream at night, the tail-cropped heifer's low.
Who set the whisper going first? You know, and well you know!

My soul! I'd sooner lie in jail for murder plain and straight,
Pure crime I'd done with my own hand for money, lust, or hate,
Than take a seat in Parliament by fellow-felons cheered,
While one of those "not provens" proved me cleared as you are cleared.

Cleared--you that "lost" the League accounts--go, guard our honor still,
Go, help to make our country's laws that broke God's laws at will--
One hand stuck out behind the back, to signal "strike again";
The other on your dress-shirt front to show your heart is @dane,

[drhilarius]

7. Or this personal favorite, which brilliantly describes our

current predicament.

The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.



Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

[MadProphetMargin]

9. Or Shelley's all-time classic, which could describe Bush's "legacy" for

America:

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said--"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart....Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

[drhilarius]

11. Now, if only we could Stan Simmons to read these.

[MadProphetMargin]

14. Books are for HIPPIES!

Do never test!

[GiovanniC]

18. By Far, One of My Favorites

n/t

[HFishbine]

8. Hmm. You can sing it!

To "The Ballad of Jed Clampett" (the theme from the Beverly Hillbillies)!

[thebigidea]

10. because all good poetry features the use of ALL CAPS

[ozymandius]

12. AGHHH! Vogon Poetry

The Spanish Inquisition would love this!

Inquisitor: "Do you confess to your crimes?"

Victim: "Yes. Yes. Yes. Please! No more Stan Simons."

[0rganism]

13. Hey, it's like Toby Keith meets Dr. Seuss! Faaaantastick!

What's next, The Grinch Who Stole Weapons Of Mass Destruction? Dubya and the Oobleck? I'm lookin' forward to it.

[ReallyTired]

15. Best candidate I've seen so far...

for a new book in the bible: The Book of Ignorance

[LeftishBrit]

16. Sounds as though Bush had been indoctrinating William McGonagall!

And while we're on the subject of Kipling, I love this poem:

On a Dead Statesman

I could not dig; I dared not rob.
Therefore I lied to please the mob.
Now all my lies are proved untrue,
And I must face the men I slew.
What lies shall serve me here among
Mine angry and defrauded young?

[ET Awful]

17. We finally discover the truth. . . Freepers are Vogons in disguise

No one that hasn't read the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy will have any clue what I'm talking about :).

Vogons are known to be the worst poets in the Universe, with such excellent examples as:

Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
see if I don't!
- Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz

Yup, and their mentality is pretty Freeperish too now that I think of it.

FREEPERS ARE VOGONS and Bush is the Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz in disguise :)

[Bunny]

19. Pee Yoo!

That is so wrong, in so many ways.