Right Wing Poetry
by laVermeer

Newt Newt
He’s our man
No one does it
Like he can

But what word
Rhymes with Gingrich
I’m pretty sure
It’s not in English.

Late with an excuse is
Still late

Late without reason is
Also late

Late making others late is
Really late

Late is
Late

— Posted a la iPhone

Oh Boy
Another meeting
can I run

O joy
Hear their bleating
so much fun

Destroy
All my brain cells
pass the gun

The rain falls
Gravity rules
But the rain should laugh
Why be serious

She contemplates the words
As they scroll
Across and down
The meaning is profound
What, when, where, why
The subtext provokes.
She emits a sigh

Poetry is motion
but words remain still
How can we enjoy that
which is static and chill
I know not the answer
I can’t scan the line
But music is her poetry
Her rhythm, her rhyme

For Al, wherever she may be

Allia

fuck off…

that was just for you…

8:45pmBruce

fuck is a word

really quite absurd

misused and misheard

8:45pmAllia

omfg…

8:45pmBruce

gives my parents a bird

Fuck is a verb

8:45pmAllia

ha ha. douche.

8:45pmBruce

of quality and verve

8:45pmAllia

stop it.

8:45pmBruce

ah fuck

what a word

There once was a girl who was mean

And other’s verse made her oh so green

8:39pmAllia

oh brother…i need to go pack.

8:39pmBruce

She mocked and she berated

Those wordsmiths she hated

8:40pmAllia

keep going…

8:40pmBruce

But in the end she actually became keen

Fading

Time fades
Memory fades
Thoughts fade

Clarity fades
Vision fades
Certainties fade

Your mind fades
Your view loses focus
Your connections unravel

Sometimes you wonder,
why

on occasion of realizing my brain is screwed and I can no longer type or write coherently

— Post From My iPod

If the man does not
Run the end cannot come

and floors

When is couch not a floor
A place not kosher to snore
Are pillows and blankets
Reserved for the young sets

Lolling and gazing together through the night
Protecting and appeasing the media’s might
It’s important to remember the videos’ sting
When attempting to relax neath the propaganda’s ring

So try to avoid the comfie soft cushions
And stick to the basic floor-like solutions
But don’t be afraid of lying in comfort
Cause it’s not always good to be sore when yur inert.

Apparently poetry and mobile blogging don’t mix. Man that was a stinker!

— Posted From My iPod