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The Obama (With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

Once upon a election dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten law,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a taxing,
As of some one gently taxing, taxing even my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "taxing even my chamber door- Only this, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate deflating dollar wrought its ghost upon the books.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Autonomy -
For the rare and radiant freedom whom the founders name Autonomy -
Nameless here for eternity.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each unfunded bond
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some collector entreating, taxing, even my chamber door-
Some late collector entreating, taxing, even my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came taxing,
And so faintly you came taxing, taxing even my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Autonomy !"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Autonomy !"-
Merely this, and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a taxing somewhat faster than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
'Tis the collector and nothing more."
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Obama of the LBJ days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Teddy just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this liberal prez beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy hope be changed and deceived, thou," I said, "art sure no Obama,
Ghastly grim and ancient Obama wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Obama, "Capitalism No More."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing prez above his chamber door-
Prez or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Capitalism No More."
But the Obama, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the prez said, "Capitalism No More."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never- Capitalism No More'."
But the Obama still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of prez, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous prez of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous prez of yore
Meant in croaking "Capitalism No More."
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating
o'er, He shall press, ah, Capitalism No More!
Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these founders he hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Autonomy !
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Autonomy !"
Quoth the Obama, "Capitalism No More."
"Socialist!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if prez or devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Obama, "Capitalism No More."
"Socialist!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if prez or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted freedom whom the founders name Autonomy -
Clasp a rare and radiant freedom whom the founders name Autonomy ."
Quoth the Obama, "Capitalism No More."
"Be that word our sign in parting, prez or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting-
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no law as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Obama, "Capitalism No More."
And the Obama, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of LBJ just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- Capitalism No More!

Rhyme of the Ancient Taxpayer
With apologies to Iron Maiden

Submitted for humble consideration by:
SpinnerWebb

Hear the rime of the ancient taxpayer
See his eye as he stops one of three
Mesmerises one of the wedding guests
Stay here and listen to the nightmares of D C.

And the music plays on, as the bride passes by
Caught by his spell and the taxpayer tells his tale.

Driven to southern lands by the snow and ice
To a place where nobody’s been
Through the snow fog flies on the AlGore
Hailed in ‘Green’s’ name, hoping good luck it brings.

And the ship sails on, back to the North
Through the fog and ice and the AlGore follows on.

The RINOs kill the bill of good omen
Their Housemates cry against what they’ve done
But when the fog clears, they justify him
And make themselves a part of the crime.

Sailing on and on and north across the sea
Sailing on and on and north ‘til all is calm.

The Algore begins with its vengeance
A terrible curse a thirst has begun
Congress blames bad luck on the taxpayer
About his neck, the dead panel is hung.

And the curse goes on and on at sea
And the verse goes on and on for them and me.

“Day after day, day after day,
we made nor vote nor motion
as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean
Banter, Banter everywhere and
all the papers did print
Banter, Banter everywhere, with every dollar spent”

There calls the taxpayer
There comes the White House Press Corps
But how can they lie with smiles on their faces like whores?

See...onward she comes
Onward she nears out of the sun
See, she has no crew
She has no life, wait but there’s two.

Bam and Pelosi (Life in Death)
They throw their dice for the country
She wins the taxpayer and he belongs to her now.
Then...taxpayers one by one
they drop down dead, two hundred million
She...she, Life in Death.
She lets him live, until their coverage is gone.

“One after one by the star dogged moon,
too quick for groan or sigh
each turned his face with a ghastly pang
and cursed me with his eye

Two Hundred Fifty Million men
(and I heard nor sigh nor groan)
with heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
they sent their tax returns, one by one

The curse it lives on in their eyes
The taxpayer he wished he’d die
Along with the Congresscritters
But they lived on, so did he.

And by the light of the moon
He prays for their beauty not doom
With heart he blesses them
God’s creatures all of them too.

Then the spell starts to break
The AlGore falls from his neck
Sinks down like lead into the sea
Then down in falls comes the snow.

Hear the groans of the long dead countrymen
See them stir and they start to rise
Bodies lifted by good spirits
None of them speak and they’re lifelesss in their eyes

And revenge is still sought, penance starts again
Cast into a trance and the nightmare carries on.

Now the curse is finally lifted
And the taxpayer sights his home
spirits go from the long dead bodies
Form their own light and the taxpayer’s left alone.

And then a boat came sailing towards him
It was a joy he could not believe
The pilot’s boat, with Sarah and Conservatives,
Penance of life will fall onto him.

And the ship it sinks like lead into the sea
And the Conservatives shrieves the taxpayer of his sins.

The taxpayer’s bound to tell of his story
To tell this tale wherever he goes
To teach God’s word by his own example
That we must love all things that God made.

And the wedding guest’s a sad and wiser man
And the tale goes on and on and on.