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American Politics

by David Blaine



I thought I heard America Singing
but it was only a bearing gone bad.
Just when the television said
things were getting better
I drove my Economy around the corner
and the left front wheel fell off.

I called my Triple A rated congressman
but he said I voted for the bastard.
I said I’d actually voted for his father,
but he said that was the same thing.

So I called my Gold Plated senator
she came out
and put the wheel back on
but when she took my Economy for a test drive
she put it straight into the ditch.

Recidivism being what it is
I walked to the butcher shop
and bought myself four pounds of pork.

I thought I heard America Singing
but Liberty’s torch song
was nothing but Smokestack Lightning
an advertisement for drugs
that cure erective dysfunction.

I asked my president
why he had his hand in my pocket.
He said that it wasn’t his hand.
I looked back and saw
that it also wasn’t my pocket.

Now we’re both pregnant with anticipation
to see how everything turns out.

I told my neighbor
and she said that’s what I got
for voting for the bastard.
I said I’d voted for his mother,
but my neighbor only applauded
and told me that his mother was a whore.

Now it seems I’ve caught the clap from both sides.

I thought I heard America Singing
when my teacher taught me
to place my right hand over my leftist heart
to pledge allegiance to the flag
and to the Republicans for which it stands.
I learned about the huddled masses
yearning to be free
but found that separate shipping and handling applied.

I also learned about Jesus
Santa Claus
the Easter Bunny
and equality.

I didn’t learn about
pedophile clergy
that Santa was in cahoots
with the chamber of commerce
or that the Easter Bunny
took payola from my dentist
until I was older.

I’m still searching for equality.

I thought I heard America Singing
So I asked my mother where my daddy was.
She said the state had sent him up the river
for running a craps game.
So I went to the riverboat casino.
I asked the manager
if he knew where my daddy was.
He said my mama was a whore
and that I was a bastard.

That gave me great Hope, and I asked him
if he’d vote for me when I grew up.
I offered to take him out to lunch
and I bought him a rubber chicken.

Recidivism being what it is
I ordered the pork.

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About David Blaine


David Blaine is the name given to me before that magician dude ever appeared on television. So yes, if you're asking, I am the real David Blaine: poet, coin laundry entrepreneur, and hardware magnate. I'm a "Thumber" and if you don't know what that means, then I'm from Michigan, a couple of hours north of Detroit. I spend way too much time writing stuff and some of it gets published, online and in print.

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