About suffering it’s the same sing-song,
Tired old Liberals; how quick, they abuse
Its human condition; how loud they wail
“Bush is a disaster!” when a wretch winces from tight shoes or
just gets a nose bleed from too dry air;
How, when Nagin and Blanco were angrily, insistently waiting
For FEMA to wipe their wet noses, they knew in their bones
That Karl Rove did not specially want it to happen, laughing
As he did as he packed shaped charges on the levees
Just above the poor places of town:
They always believe
That even Calypso Louie’s tinfoil theories will outlast earth.
Anyway, in New Orleans, that waterlogged spot
Where the decadence parade goes on as preplanned, and Sean Penn’s
Dinghy floats aimlessly curbside on St. Charles.
In a west Texas ditch, meanwhile, how everyone turns quite quickly
From the onion-eyed hippie; the mainstream media most
Surely heard her cry, the forsaken pout,
But for them, Katrina is a most welcome relief; the chiggers bite
As they are wont to on liberal pink flesh seeking shade from hot bright
Sun; and Soros in his expensive ozone-depleting conveyance
Hallucinates a heaven: "George W. Bush impeached!"
And trundles giddily on.
Bump