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08/14/08 - (1)
The Depth of Irony I can still vividly recall my graduate-school days, When I was assimilating the tools of the trade, Which I'd use to carve, out of my future, A poetry rich in symbolism, imagery, satire, and irony — The snider the satire, the more biting the irony, the better, I'd discover, in the years' trenches of my obsessive career, Possessed, as I became, with honing a sardonic, dark wit.
But for all the poems that have issued, hissing venomously, From my pen's flicking tongue-tip, I've never quite achieved the degree of misanthropic irony Our lettered president, Dubya the Subtle and Nuanced, And his bellicose veep, Dick the Atrociously Evil, have, Thanks to their highly disacclaimed Grand Theft Auto creation: The nonpolitics of preemptive, unilateral warmongering.
After all, without this Draco/Torquemada tag team And their ransacking of undemocratically sovereign Iraq, How could the rest of the world, this past week, Have savored the ironic depth of their words for Moscow, Regarding its "peace-keeping" mission in Georgia — Bush's "grave concern about the disproportionate response of Russia"; Cheney's notion that "Russian aggression must not go unanswered"?
08/14/08 - (1)
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