the weekly poem.com

Strictly Speaking

Here I sit by my receiver
Spitting blood up from my throat:
I'm a very true believer
That I have the right to vote.

When I watched the couple rhumba
Watched the tango in a fury
I sat here and phoned the number
Hoping to be judge and jury.

Who is he, the statistician
Thinking we're a bunch of fools?
Who gave anyone permission
To step in and bend the rules?

I thought I had used my ballot
I thought that the die was cast:
Bad taste in my craw and palate –
Still he jigged there, to the last.

In the world he'd driven wild
With his snake-hips fro and to,
There stood Bush, and smiled and smiled.
Something snapped. I threw my shoe.

In his sequins and his spangles
Still he stumbled on the floor.
By the language that he mangles,
Someone show the man THE DOOR.

Click here for the Guardian story.

Strictly Speaking

There was a huge fuss about phone-voting in the BBC celebrity dance show Strictly Come Dancing (known as 'Strictly'). An Iraqi journalist threw a show at George Bush at his final press conference in Iraq.


17 December 2008

POETRY KIT WEBRING

Home/Join | List | Next | Previous | Random

alt-webring.com