Oh, that Cheney

He is so, so zany

Maybe a teeny bit insaney!

Perhaps he’s just mad

Instead of plain bad

Really, rather sad

He hates you;

Hates me too

Should we boo?

I hate to be unkind

But I think he keeps his mind

Up his behind.

Halliburton wanted more

Cheney gave them war

Big, really big score!!

Does he love the thrill

Of the long distance kill

As he sips from his still?

Who is this man

With hardly a fan

For his diabolical plan?

He wielded a big stick

Made a lot of people sick

No wonder they call him Dick!

Now he sits at home

Most likely alone

On his throne.

He had that made

Guess who paid

While he played?

He has not a single regret

For the enormous bet

That he played and we met.

He thinks we’re all wrong

That we sing the wrong song

While he wields the devil’s prong.

Oh, that Cheney

He is so, so zany

Maybe totally insaney!

© Michael Rocharde, February 2009

Dear John Boehner et al

Do you mind if I call you Pal

Because it’s really clear

That the things you hold dear

Have not worked

As you, your responsibilities shirked

And I believe it is true

That you don’t have a clue

Or an idea that is good

And you believe that you should

Oppose any plan

Put forth by a democratic man.

Tax cuts are your thing

It’s the only song you sing

Still rivers run deep

And you walk as if you sleep

Convinced you were born to rule

And that we, the public, are a fool

To follow any other path

Thus encurring your wrath.

Elitist is what you, collectively, are

But your ideas are below par

What you seek

Is not to please the meek

Who have little voice

In which you, thoroughly, rejoice

With principles that are bad

Choosing ones that are sad

And which caused your rule to fail

And your supporters to wail

But what is hard to understand

In this struggling land

Is that you still think you have a say

And will have your way

While we, the people, made our voices heard

By rejecting you and your absurd

Party 

With which we are heartily

And forever sick

Of your carrot and the stick

Approach to everything we hold dear.

Your party rules by fear

And by bluster

Which will, no more, pass muster.

We will not listen any more

About your core

Values as they are wrong; 

It’s time to sing a new song.

So, John Boehner

I don’t think I can be any plainer

Be a man

Lose the never-ending tan

Think before you speak;

Perhaps take a week

Before you stand in front of those you serve

And try, for once, to observe

The contempt in which you are held

With which you were, already, felled

Now is not the time

For you and your party line!

It is easy to see

That you may not agree

With your President’s plan

And not be an Obama fan

But what have you to gain

By prolonging the pain.

Step out of the limelight

Get out of our sight

Unless you have something to say

That is worthwhile today.

History tells us that revolutions start

In more than a little part

From the excesses of the rich

Who have to scratch that itch

To have more than they need

By any name that is greed.

You and your party have few friends

You’ve made no attempt to make amends

For the mess you’ve got us in

And your excuses; they are thin

And when we need to be efficient

You and your kind are deficient

So perhaps there’s a lesson here

It’s time to be sincere

And now you should bend

Your climate of fear is at an end.

© Michael Rocharde, February 2009

While I’ve been campaigning

I hear you’ve been complaining

And I’ve been refraining

From doing any explaining

Especially about Palin.

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

We ran an awful race

Fell flat on our face

Didn’t make a place

Might as well have been in space

Wish I had some Mace!

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

Tempers they were a fraying

Palin, she was a straying

Campaign, we were a delaying

People gave us a flaying

Did us no good, praying.

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

It was a long, tough fight

Man, we worked day and night

Pulling left and pushing right

Polls never really tight

Good judgement out of sight.

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

We planned on making a splash

With little substance and lots of flash

Perhaps we were a little rash

Sure was an enormous crash

And we made an enormous hash!

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

The comedians had lots of fun

Talking about our run

Mocking that I was the one

That old guy from the sun

But, once, even I was young!

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

I know it’s kind of moot

Perhaps even a hoot

But we tried to be cute

And shot ourselves in the foot

And, for ourselves, we didn’t root!

Could we have done it better

You betcha!’

We’re going to get ya!

The night was supersonic

And America got a tonic

But isn’t it ironic

That the Great White Hope

(Those of you that mope

Will just have to cope!)

Turns out to be black

Named Barack

And came from the back.

Many hoped he’d win

Thought chances were thin

But now he’s in

And what a job he’s got

To stop the rot

And untie the knot

That Bush and cronies tied

As they lied and lied

And, last night, they cried

As they were rejected

Thoroughly dejected

And, imminently, to be ejected.

After such a fight

It was an amazing night

Never thought I’d see the sight

A new era has begun

One war has been won

And now we need the sun

To set on the war in Iraq

We need our troops back

To protect us from attack.

The road will be long and hard

Our psyche has been scarred

And no holds were barred

But now we start to rebuild our world

Our flag will, with pride, be unfurled

And despair will be hurled

Out of a hitherto unopened door

With the values at our core

Now we can hope, again, for more.

God bless America.

© Michael Rocharde, November 5, 2008

Election time

More slime

Much lying

And decrying

Attack, attack

Stab in back

Make a claim

Very lame

Little truth

Less proof

Dirty game

Shift blame

Who to believe

Who will achieve

Anything new

For you

Or us

Much fuss

More lies

Lobbyist ties

Very divisive

Not incisive

Out for blood

Slinging mud

Saying nought

Who is bought

Big ad spend

With no end

In sight

People’s plight

Getting worse

Honor averse

And very thin

Must win

Cannot lose

Who to choose

Very sad

It’s so bad

Politics

Dirt sticks

Election time

End of rhyme!

© Michael Rocharde October 2008

Times are desperate for the GOP

As one can plainly see

Bush is out;

Yes you may holler and shout

But McCain is now the man of the hour

Obsessed with winning and power

And with nothing new to say

He needed to find a way

To lure the people in

And somehow win.

Portraying Obama as a neophyte

He sought to instill fright

But when that failed to work

His morals he did shirk

And after a long wait, 

Chose a running mate

With little or no class

But, maybe, a great arse.

Yes, he hired a beauty queen

To be on his dream team!

Sarah Palin is her name

And she has got the blame

For a lot that is wrong

With the Republican song.

She’s so far to the right

That she will claim day is night

And repeatedly swear

That the Bridge to nowhere

Was blocked by her word

Which we all know is absurd.

And then there are the other lies

As she decries and denies

Finally faced with the Press

She failed to impress

Other than the fanatical right

Who have completely lost sight

Of what this country is said to be;

Land of the free.

Her views are extreme

It’s the same old GOP theme

But said by a fresh face

Put in place

As a desperate tack

From the man at the back

Of the race for the White House,

Currently occupied by an unpopular louse

Who has done everything wrong

While singing the same old song.

But let’s get back to McCain’s VP pick

Is she bright or is she thick?

Her beliefs are slightly crazy

But McCain believes, maybe,

That she’s ready for the task

And all he had to do was ask.

In her stump speeches

To the radical right, she preaches

That she and McCain are 

By near and by far

The agents of change

As she tries to rearrange

History to fit the spin

Which is wearing very thin.

And I’m sad to report

Women’s rights she does not support

And there won’t come a day

Where she’ll fight for equal pay

Nor would she abort a child

From a woman raped or defiled.

If issues were on the table

Maybe she’d be able

To say something fresh and new

That would appeal to me and you

But instead of trying to engage

She manages to enrage

With a new or repeated lie each day

And has nothing worthwhile to say.

So let’s once again lament

McCain’s bad judgement

With scandal after scandal in the News

Who should we choose?

It’s really, really sad

That things should be this bad

But desperate times bred a desperate man

And he’s doing what he can

To win the race;

If only it was into space!

So, once more

Let’s show McCain the door

For should he win

It will be a sin

And, it needs to be said 

If he then dropped dead;

She would take his spot

And bring a lot

Of radical beliefs with her

And that alone should deter

You, your family and friends.

As we all struggle to make ends

Meet;

It’s important to defeat

The McCain-Palin ticket.

And not be left in the thicket

Of lies and more than one dirty trick

Of which we are, wholeheartedly sick.

The time has come

For us all, not just some

To put divisive politics aside

And not hide

Behind the familiarity of despair

Where our rulers do not care

Whether we live or die

Just as long as we don’t try

To push them off their gilded throne

And send them home

To live out their miserable lives

Amongst those they despise.

© Michael Rocharde, September 15, 2008

Wow and again Wow

So you were a POW

But that was then somehow

And this is now.

But what have you done to date

Other than belittle and berate

Turning your back

On the people, as you attack

Those who wish to serve

And who deserve

So much more.

With things worth fighting for

It’s so easy to infer

That you are not the man you were!

The Straight Talk Express derailed

As your conscience failed

And you stooped to lying

And decrying

The efforts of others

Who want to help their brothers

And sisters succeed

In this time of desperate need.

Your rhetoric is nasty and empty

And we’ve had plenty

Over the years, of that stuff

To which we say ‘Enough’.

I am, in no way, a fan

Of the bitter, cynical man

That you have become

For, of hope, there was some

That you would stay a maverick

Instead of a Bush sidekick

Spouting the party line

Time after interminable time

With not an answer in sight

To the peoples plight

Just more tax cuts for the rich

So that you can scratch that itch

And support for Big Oil

For whom you, obviously, toil.

And what you say

Is denied the next day.

Why would we believe

What you lay claim to achieve.

Integrity is your clarion call

Hoping to enthrall

Us with empty promises made

And bad judgement displayed.

It must depress

And distress

You, that so many see through your lies

Instead of through your eyes

And that each and every word

You utter is absurd

With bitterness and bile

As you try to rile

A man, who is by far,

Not just a rising star

But a better man than you

Through and through.

You seek to win

With nothing more than spin

And lies that are beyond the pale

But you will, undoubtedly, fail

In your quest

To be the best.

So you cater to the right

And give them all your might

Pandering day in and day out

Hoping to hear them shout

Your name out loud

While you to try to find a crowd

To whom you can speak;

It’s pathetic and weak.

It’s hard not to be sick

In your VP pick

Such an obvious ploy

From such an old, old boy.

Hillary’s people are not to be swayed

By this pathetic choice you made

And, if I may be abrupt,

It’s more than a little corrupt

That you think the religious right

Will all give you their might.

Some will

Fall for your swill

But we’ve heard the lies before

Back in 2004

And while the masses fell

Under a bad spell

The last four years have been

Worse than forseen

And most won’t be fooled again

By that same refrain.

You will not be the first

To be the worst

And when this elections done

And you’ve had your fun

I think,

Into obscurity you’ll sink.

And with all the money

From your honey

You’ll still live so well

But in hell

Is where you will reside

With your ambitions denied.

Michael Rocharde

Hey, Big Brother,

Welcome to my life
To my daily trouble and my strife
Please listen to the things I say
During the hours of my day
And if you think it’s right
Please continue into the night
And if I mumble in my sleep
Do not weep
Because you cannot make out a word;
It is likely to be absurd
And if you have to turn up the gain
So you can hear my refrain
Then that’s fine by me
I don’t need to be free.

If what I say and do
Is so important to you
I really don’t mind
Leaving my civil rights behind
Perhaps you’ll conclude
That I am offensive and rude
Perhaps you’ll concur
With what I say and infer
Maybe you’ll even feel the need
To watch me bleed
To remove me from this place
To strike me in the face
And send me to Guantanamo.
I’ve always wanted to go
To Cuba and see what Castro did
And then you’ll be rid
Of me and my rebellious mind
Yes, I know you’re being kind.

Can I bring my denial
To the upcoming trial?
Oh, yes, there isn’t any need for one!
Isn’t this fun?
And can I make amends
For those that I call friends
Who’ve led me astray
Just by talking to me each day
They’ve made their values mine
And that’s why, at this time
I’m in the middle of this mess
And in such distress.

Is this going to be fair
But do I think you really care?
All that you need is for me to see
That I’m not really free
I’m just a pawn in the game
Someone you can easily blame.
An unwitting fool
Useful only as a tool
In this so-called war
But now I’m being a bore
Please forgive my careless words
They were really meant for the birds.

So, Big Brother, if you need to spy
I’ll be happy to comply
Think nothing of what you do
I know that you’re being true
To your belief
System and it’s a relief
To me and mine
That you think all is fine!

© Michael Rocharde – September 14, 2007
All Rights Reserved

What is about men who rule
That so many of them are so cruel?
Is it a prerequisite for power
That they have to make others cower?
Is it something deep inside
That they are unwilling to hide;
And that they want the world to know
They are only putting on a show
When they appear to be kind
But in the back of their mind
They have this insatiable lust
For power that they must
Fulfill, no matter what the cost
Nor that their soul will be lost.

Is it that the power to kill
Is such a compelling thrill?
Do they like to toy
With those who they destroy?
What makes them the way they are
As we watch from afar
And are filled with dismay
At the things they do each day.

What would we find
If we could get inside their mind?
Would there be a malignant cell
Or would they be completely well?

Is it the way they were raised?
Constantly being praised
No matter what they did
As a malevolent kid.
Was it that, as a child
They ran completely wild
With no boundaries being set
No moral standards to be met?
Was it their milieu
To which they said ‘adieu’
Or was it in that place
They found the space
To grow apart
From those who have a heart?

As for me, I think it’s right
That they are what they are, in spite
Of everything we can understand;
That they are unmanned
By the normalcy of life
And in their quest for strife;
Their desire for gain
Is fueled by others pain.
It’s not that they don’t know wrong from right
It’s not that they have lost sight
Of something that, perhaps, they never had
But that they were born, just plain bad!

© Michael Rocharde, September 16, 2007

“Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who is the biggest bullshitter of them all?”
“You are, George, without a doubt”
Said the mirror with a shout.
“It hardly seems fair;
The things you pull out of the air.
The lies you tell without a ‘by your leave’
Are hard, for even me, to believe
And I come from a fairy tale land
Where even the hand
Of a princess comes with a price
But you definitely don’t play nice.
How do you sleep at night
Sending young men off to fight
In a mysterious, far off war
That even I cannot understand what for?
How do you send children off to die
For a baseless lie.
Is there not a conscience inside there
Telling you to be fair?

“So mirror, mirror, tell me true
Is there something else I should do?
Is there something more I can achieve
Before they force me to leave
This wondrous place where I get to do
All the nasty things I’ve always wanted to.
You know people are really cruel
Calling me a drunk and a fool
But I will get my own back
Just watch me attack
Anyone who stands in my way
Be that night or be that day.”

“Well, George, let me think.
Go on, have another drink
As I give this question some thought
And consider the damage you have wrought.
Let me ask a truth which you will despise
When young, did you pull the wings off flies?”

“As a matter of fact, I did
And some other awful things as a kid
But I never paid the price
My Daddy’s awful nice
And my mother. Well she’s the best
And you can never second guess
How far they will go
In putting on a show.
They knew, from birth, what I was like;
A human shrike;
But they weren’t about to protest
I was the one in whom they were to invest
Their dreams and all their hope
So no time to mope.
All the things that I did that were bad
Made them only a little sad
And so here I stand in this House
But I know I’m a louse
Not deserving of it all;
This kid who wouldn’t play ball.
So, mirror mirror what do you reply
How much harder should I try?”

Said the mirror with some glee
“Why are you asking me?
I find it somewhat strange
As I arrange
My thoughts at this time
That there is not a line
That you will draw
As you demand more and more
But as you stand in this place
You won’t look yourself in the face.
You talk to me but gaze at the wall
It seems you do not, yourself, enthrall.
I think you must be somewhat ashamed
Knowing that you are rightly blamed
And that if there is a hell
You’ll fit in mighty swell.”

“Mirror, mirror, you’ve made a big mistake
For I will now, you, forever break.
As you are about to see
Nobody stands up to me
For I get a big thrill
Out of imposing my will.
Yes, I am bad to the bone
That’s how I hold on to this throne!”
Said the mirror “Well that’s alright
It’s been an awful night!”

© Michael Rocharde, September 13, 2007