September 13, 2004

Late at Night, Dick Cheney Tries His Hand at Poetry

Passing the Time, Searching for Meaning on a Campaign Flight

All I wanted was a dollar and a dulcimer, a tax cut to keep for my own
Trees that topple, all praise God's right to throw wetlands under the mall
Pheasants thunder from the net and the recoil's slap pleases my flesh
But a bleeding heart alone in the dark, wandering lost and knowing naught
Gunned his Bradley over the curb to breach a bitter hole in the wall

Far away when the hour is late I hear Casper moan down the ridge
Limo idles in the cold waiting driver's head slumped on chest
Studio lights blaze sweat tickles down to pool in my shorts
Casper whispers again and again: you've got what it takes, it takes, it takes

We chained the chimera to the wall and took sacred oath to make all things large, become small
Bloodshot values always trump carping demands for practical
Lucifer at the gates so we'll play eight ball in the corner winner take all
A bleeding heart alone in the dark, wandering lost and knowing naught
Lay down in the street and we knew none dare stop us

Far and away and pour more wine I hear Casper moan down the ridge
Man of the hour you've got what it takes, it takes, it takes, it takes

Copyright 2003-2004 William Stockton & Smithtown Creek Productions
All Rights Reserved
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