“The Interior Department has put the final touches on a five-year plan to expand oil and gas drilling in the Gulf of Mexico and offshore from Alaska and Virginia.” April 28, 2007 Associated Press story.
“The Interior Department has put the final touches on a five-year plan to expand oil and gas drilling in the Gulf of Mexico and offshore from Alaska and Virginia.” April 28, 2007 Associated Press story.
“Rigs puncture the horizon, Hell’s blood
Is Texas tea, drowning Leucothea.” Joshua B. Good.
Paradise Lost, Again
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Photo Illustration by Joshua B. Good |
By Joshua B. Good
Of a man’s first allegiance, and the oil
Of that forsaken land whose Western taste
Brought death unto the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Freedom, ‘till a great idea
Restore us, and we regain our senses
Say, Jefferson, from the secret study
In Monticello and Phillie, inspired
Renaissance man who taught that natural
Rights of man trumped messianic King George
And a nation born of ideas and blood,
Delight thee more, from Microsoft flows
Fast by the Pentium of the Net, I
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
Instruct me please, your words rid one George
And now we endure another so named.
Say first -- for what hides long from Reason’s view,
Nor the deep pit of Pride – say first what cause
Moved our grandparents, in that happy state,
Favored across earth as just, free, robust
The Constitution they transgressed, by flames
Of fear, they seize more power, and more wealth.
Who now seduces them to that foul revolt?
Infernal cowboy, he it is whose guile,
Stirred up evangelicals, so deceived
By promise of motherhood protected.
W cast his bait off Corpus Christi,
His dark VP watched as the leader fished.
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay anchored, rolling in the putrid gulf.
As far as Republicans can, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
Bloated bodies, one-fifty score, float by
In uniforms with oil-soaked stars and stripes.
A leviathan, white belly up, they
think is land; ‘Nice spot for condos,’ Veep says.
Rigs puncture the horizon, Hell’s blood
Is Texas tea, drowning Leucothea.
Tallahassee hillbilly, Guvna’ Jeb
Says “That’s all right. Brother’ll save our beach.”
Rafts of grimy Mardi Gras beads drift by.
“By golly, this is one beautiful day,”
Says the high commander of vacations.
“Only way it could be better – shoot skeet.”
“I don’t hear Jesus’ call, stow the shotgun.
Do tell, creepy Veep, of our holy war.”
“All’s good in Iraq. Nukes poised for Iran.”
“Some say I’ll herald the second coming.
But they don’t know me well, no false prophet
I; Halliburton’s profits I will guard.”
“Fine, Mr. President, but the future?”
“We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foes.”
“You mean terrorists, of course?” Veep says.
“No, I mean freedom, solvency and peace,
These are the enemies of our profit.”
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