Gather around girls and boys. It is creative time. When I feel a little nervous it helps if I write a poem. Today the unfocused racism of the Tea partiers which was so overly covered by the cable news outfits disturbed my equilibrium. So I wrote a poem. It is called "The Ghost of Timothy McVeigh." As a poem, it sucks so I am making this a contest. Whoever gets the most recs for a poem in a comment wins the game.
Start the contest and my poem after the fold....
The Ghost of Timothy McVeigh
Tea partier, Tea partier, do you feel his breath on your neck?
The compression wave from the detonation, baby bodies, adults slayed,
Scattered across the smoking postal building like cards shot from a deck.
Tea partier, Tea partier, do you feel the ghost of Timothy McVeigh?
Tea partier, Tea partier, are you loud
As you hear the screams of the dying?
Tea partier, Tea partier, are you proud
As you hear the innocent lie crying?
Tea partier, Tea partier, trussed up on the death gurney,
Do you see him turn away remorseless, without zeal.
And die without so much as a regretful word.
Tea partier, Tea partier, he, like you, did once feel.
Tea partier, Tea partier, the ghost of McVeigh stands at your shoulders,
Prodding you, pushing you and trying to make you act with violence bolder.