Of two evils, it is always best to vote for the less hypocritical.
American proverbs
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Vote For Me
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill cut your tax in half
Ill make the russians laugh
Ill feed the hungry people everywhere
Ill bring the railroads back
New trains and new track
From waikiki to old deleware
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill give detroit one year
New cars that run on beer
Or anything except gasoline
Im looking to the sun
More power for everyone
And the cleanest sky that youve ever seen
Im not going to kid you, theres a lot to do
Little can I promise, its really up to you
But if we all work together
And I think we can
And if you want some new ideas
Then Im your man
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill work for global peace
And the sweet release
Of the love and human kindness in us all
I would give all Ive got
You just give me a shot
Somehow, I know that I can win the fall
song performed by Chicago
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My Vote
A single vote may be your victory………..
my vote create the world i live.......a vote that brings my
future near to the distance i see
my vote holds me to achieve..... a reality of my dream to
Conquer, grasp according to my wish
my vote change the chaos i encounter.......a life saving
design of what will be tomorrow of my destiny
my vote wonder every breathe.......a victory to where to
go, beyond uncertain pathways
my vote remember my aspiration.....a longing of joy and
happiness, wonting to know of peace
my vote brings my life......a remembrance of my life of
today, a parting print of my thumbs forever
…..please let my vote be seen, touch and listen for the
wings of the ink, has whisper the truth of what will be
the beginning of history, made this print easy to
count my vote in you is you’re……. victory
poem by Antonio Liao
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Adam Lambert Gay or Straight Part 1
Rewrite of the hit Katy Perry song, Hot N' Cold
Don't change your mind about voting for him
Just because sometimes he likes to get dressed up
In women's clothes
Yeah, for him, I'm sending out this urgent S.O.S.
Winning this show can be a b, I know
But still I think he deserves the title
More than that other lame he-ho
So no need to overthink
Or speak of him overly critically
'Cause by now I think we all know
He's the one to let be
Idol's 2009 rockstar for sure
So if you think he's hot
Then don't you be so cold
Say yes to him
Never no
Take him in
Into your heart
Even through he's come out
Cheer him on
Vote him up
Don't let him down
Leave behind that prejudice wrong
To embrace what's right
Vote for Adam and show the world
Rather he's gay or he's straight
His talent is all that really matters tonight
Before our superstar came along
Idol used to be to me
Just like that old boy band, N'Sync
Empty of anything orignal
Lacking that spark of energy
Now that's all changed
Thanks to him
Lighting up that stage like a non-stop energizer battery
Used to think this reality show hype was all about nothin'
Just so plain boring
Now I know better
That thanks to him it can all change
So if you think he's hot
Then don't you be so cold
Say yes to him
Never no
[...] Read more
poem by Ramona Thompson
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Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan
I
In a nation of one hundred fine, mob-hearted, lynching, relenting, repenting millions,
There are plenty of sweeping, swinging, stinging, gorgeous things to shout about,
And knock your old blue devils out.
I brag and chant of Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan,
Candidate for president who sketched a silver Zion,
The one American Poet who could sing outdoors,
He brought in tides of wonder, of unprecedented splendor,
Wild roses from the plains, that made hearts tender,
All the funny circus silks
Of politics unfurled,
Bartlett pears of romance that were honey at the cores,
And torchlights down the street, to the end of the world.
There were truths eternal in the gap and tittle-tattle.
There were real heads broken in the fustian and the rattle.
There were real lines drawn:
Not the silver and the gold,
But Nebraska's cry went eastward against the dour and old,
The mean and cold.
It was eighteen ninety-six, and I was just sixteen
And Altgeld ruled in Springfield, Illinois,
When there came from the sunset Nebraska's shout of joy:
In a coat like a deacon, in a black Stetson hat
He scourged the elephant plutocrats
With barbed wire from the Platte.
The scales dropped from their mighty eyes.
They saw that summer's noon
A tribe of wonders coming
To a marching tune.
Oh the longhorns from Texas,
The jay hawks from Kansas,
The plop-eyed bungaroo and giant giassicus,
The varmint, chipmunk, bugaboo,
The horn-toad, prairie-dog and ballyhoo,
From all the newborn states arow,
Bidding the eagles of the west fly on,
Bidding the eagles of the west fly on.
The fawn, prodactyl, and thing-a-ma-jig,
The rackaboor, the hellangone,
The whangdoodle, batfowl and pig,
The coyote, wild-cat and grizzly in a glow,
In a miracle of health and speed, the whole breed abreast,
The leaped the Mississippi, blue border of the West,
From the Gulf to Canada, two thousand miles long:-
Against the towns of Tubal Cain,
[...] Read more
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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A Series of Tubes
That there Internet thingy
is like a series of tubes
All the smart fellas
in the hole world
got tagether and
they put smart stuff in them tubes
An now all ya gotta do
to larn stuff
is getcha self connected to that
Internet thingy
(You will need a computer for this)
(and some other stuff + electricty)
They you can pull stuff
up from them tubes
smart reading stuff
(if ya like that kinda thing)
or even important stuff
like how to knock down your old barn or shed
or even how to build a real bomb
(not for knocking down the barn though)
I know all this cause my congress man talked about it on TV
And George W. Bush says so two (I think cause he outta no)
The End (only the end of this poem)
If you like this poem a whole lot I think you should vote 9-10
(mostly 10 i hope)
If you like it some but not the very most maybe vote 6-8
(but you could still vote 9 or 10 to be nice)
If you only think it is middlin they go head and vote 5
(cause that's in the middle of 1-10)
If you kinda don't care for it you could vote it a 2,3, or 4
(that would be kinda low though)
If you hate this poem then you are left with only a 1
(there are no zero votes)
(But I think a 1 vote is not called for unless you are pretty mean though the last time I looked this was still a free country so you can vote 1 if that is how your mind runs)
Thanks for voting or not. (and tell your friends if you liked this poem)
probably don't tell them if you did not vote more than a 5
Billy Bob
poem by Billy Bob Noes
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The Immunity (Chapter 9, Verses 67-68, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Hypocritical men and hypocritical women are all the same
They urge the people to do evil things
And regarding good works they forbid them
And they are squanderer
They have forgot Allah the Giver
Therefore Allah will forget them forever
Surely every hypocritical person is transgressor.
It's Allah's promise
The hypocritical men and women and those who disbelieve
In hell's fire they will live
They will stay there forever
Enough for them is hell's fire
They provoke God's anger
So they will be punished forever and ever.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Vote for the Future of Big Bird
Please vote for the future of our children.
Vote to fund PBS, an oasis of knowledge, get even
On Election Day. Vote for Sesame Street,
Vote for Main Street, not Wall Street.
Vote for the re-election of the President,
Who supports student loans for our college students.
Vote for the man who is a strong proponent
Of investing in America, and in the future of our citizens.
The Hedge Fund Managers have sufficient money;
The wealthy ought to pay their fair share of taxes accordingly.
Vote for Big Bird and Main Street,
An tell Wall Street that the party is over,
No more business as usual; it is over.
Give a chance to Big Bird and Main Street.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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The God-Forgotten Election
Pat M'Durmer brought the tidings to the town of God-Forgotten :
‘There are lively days before ye—commin Parlymint’s dissolved!’
And the boys were all excited, for the State, of course, was ‘rotten,’
And, in subsequent elections, God-Forgotten was involved.
There was little there to live for save in drinking beer and eating;
But we rose on this occasion ere the news appeared in print,
For the boys of God-Forgotten, at a wild, uproarious meeting,
Nominated Billy Blazes for the commin Parlymint.
Other towns had other favourites, but the day before the battle
Bushmen flocked to God-Forgotten, and the distant sheds were still;
Sheep were left to go to glory, and neglected mobs of cattle
Went a-straying down the river at their sweet bucolic will.
William Spouter stood for Freetrade (and his votes were split by Nottin),
He had influence behind him and he also had the tin,
But across the lonely flatlands came the cry of God-Forgotten,
‘Vote for Blazes and Protection, and the land you’re living in!’
Pat M‘Durmer said, ‘Ye schaymers, please to shut yer ugly faces,
‘Lend yer dirty ears a momint while I give ye all a hint:
‘Keep ye sober till to-morrow and record yer vote for Blazes
‘If ye want to send a ringer to the commin Parlymint.
‘As a young and growin’ township God-Forgotten’s been neglected,
‘And, if we’d be ripresinted, now’s the moment to begin—
‘Have the local towns encouraged, local industries purtected:
‘Vote for Blazes, and Protection, and the land ye’re livin’ in.
‘I don’t say that William Blazes is a perfect out-an’ outer,
‘I don’t say he have the larnin’, for he never had the luck;
‘I don’t say he have the logic, or the gift of gab, like Spouter,
‘I don’t say he have the practice—BUT I SAY HE HAVE THE PLUCK!
‘Now the country’s gone to ruin, and the Governments are rotten,
‘But he’ll save the public credit and purtect the public tin;
‘To the iverlastin’ glory of the name of God-Forgotten
‘Vote for Blazes and Protection, and the land ye’re livin’ in!’
Pat M‘D. went on the war-path, and he worked like salts and senna,
For he organised committees full of energy and push;
And those wild committees riding through the whisky-fed Gehenna
Routed out astonished voters from their humpies in the bush.
Everything on wheels was ‘rinted,’ and half-sobered drunks were shot in;
Said M‘Durmer to the driver, ‘If ye want to save yer skin,
‘Never stop to wet yer whistles—drive like hell to God-Forgotten,
‘Make the villains plump for Blazes, and the land they’re livin, in.’
Half the local long-departed (for the purpose resurrected)
Plumped for Blazes and Protection, and the country where they died;
So he topped the poll by sixty, and when Blazes was elected
There was victory and triumph on the God-Forgotten side.
Then the boys got up a banquet, and our chairman, Pat M‘Durmer,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Why Would I....
if i couldnt trust you
enough to sit down and
eat with you...
why would i vote for you?
if your words are laced
with hatred, deception, and fear...
why would i vote for you?
if you're part of the problem,
and see no need to change...
why would i vote for you?
if you're so insulated
in your affluent world...
why would i vote for you?
if you're drunk on apathy,
and cant feel the need and the hunger...
why would i vote for you?
if your only goal is profit,
at the expense of whomever...
why would i vote for you?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Aunt Chloe
.
I remember, well remember,
.
That dark and dreadful day,
.
When they whispered to me, "Chloe,
.
Your children's sold away!" 1.
It seemed as if a bullet
.
Had shot me through and through,
.
And I felt as if my heart-strings
.
Was breaking right in two. 1.
And I says to cousin Milly,
.
"There must be some mistake;
.
Where's Mistus?" "In the great house crying --
.
Crying like her heart would break. 1.
"And the lawyer's there with Mistus;
.
Says he's come to 'ministrate,
.
'Cause when master died he just left
.
Heap of debt on the estate. 1.
"And I thought 'twould do you good
.
To bid your boys good-bye --
.
To kiss them both and shake their hands,
.
And have a hearty cry. 1.
"Oh! Chloe, I knows how you feel,
.
[...] Read more
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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THEY CAN'T WIN Apr 30th,2011
Those who don’t vote, think that nothing can change and they may be right,
Without plebiscites or propositions trying to be polite,
No binding referendums or proportional representation,
So why bother to be involved or vote or make a donation?
They are not allowed to vote for their prime minister by name,
Can’t have political recall and no matter what, so they can’t blame,
There are no set-date elections so no one knows the date for sure,
And the name on the ballot they can vote for, is extremely obscure.
Can’t vote for an appointed senator or Supreme Court judge,
Can’t even have these thoughts because nothing is allowed to budge,
Can’t have death with dignity because that would be a sin,
So why bother to vote because Canadians may not win?
poem by James Bredin
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The Deliverance
Master only left old Mistus
One bright and handsome boy;
But she fairly doted on him,
He was her pride and joy.
We all liked Mister Thomas,
He was so kind at heart;
And when the young folkes got in scrapes,
He always took their part.
He kept right on that very way
Till he got big and tall,
And old Mistus used to chide him
And say he'd spile us all.
But somehow the farm did prosper
When he took things in hand;
And though all the servants liked him,
He made them understand.
One evening Mister Thomas said,
'Just bring my easy shoes;
I am going to sit by mother,
And read her up the news.'
Soon I heard him tell old Mistus
We're bound to have a fight;
But we'll whip the Yankees, mother,
We'll whip them sure as night!'
Then I saw old Mistus tremble;
She gasped and held her breath;
And she looked on Mister Thomas
With a face as pale as death.
'They are firing on Fort Sumpter;
Oh! I wish that I was there! -
Why, dear mother! what's the matter?
You're the picture of despair.'
'I was thinking, dearest Thomas,
'Twould break my very heart
If a fierce and dreadful battle
Should tear our lives apart.'
'None but cowards, dearest mother,
Would skulk unto the rear,
When the tyrant's hand is shaking
All the heart is holding dear.'
[...] Read more
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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I Heard The Roar On Maha-shivaratri
I heard the bum bum Bhole on Maha Shiva Ratri
Herd of kanwarias sing and dance their hymns play,
And wild and sweet the roar repeat
Of happiness in the nation, destruction of evils in men.
Mesmerized, I brood, as the morning had come,
To offer the holy waters on the divine Shiva Linga
Devotes had marched along the unbroken hymns
Of happiness in the nation, destruction of evils in men.
But in despair I shook my head:
‘There is no happiness in my nation, ’ I cried
‘For hate and depression is high, and laughs at the hymns
Of happiness in the nation, destruction of evils in men.
Then read the beads more lost and loud:
‘Lord Shiva is still there looking at all our deeds;
The evil will be destroyed, the goodness prevail,
Of happiness in the nation, destruction of evils in men.
Kanwarias ringing, singing all through their way,
The nation awakened from night to day
Mighty Tandava, a roar, a chant sublime,
Of happiness in the nation, destruction of evils in men.
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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The Borough. Letter V: The Election
YES, our Election's past, and we've been free,
Somewhat as madmen without keepers be;
And such desire of Freedom has been shown,
That both the parties wish'd her all their own:
All our free smiths and cobblers in the town
Were loth to lay such pleasant freedom down;
To put the bludgeon and cockade aside,
And let us pass unhurt and undefied.
True! you might then your party's sign produce,
And so escape with only half th' abuse:
With half the danger as you walk'd along,
With rage and threat'ning but from half the throng.
This you might do, and not your fortune mend,
For where you lost a foe you gain'd a friend;
And to distress you, vex you, and expose,
Election-friends are worse than any foes;
The party-curse is with the canvass past,
But party-friendship, for jour grief, will last.
Friends of all kinds; the civil and the rude,
Who humbly wish, or boldly dare t'intrude:
These beg or take a liberty to come
(Friends should be free), and make your house their home;
They know that warmly you their cause espouse,
And come to make their boastings and their bows;
You scorn their manners, you their words mistrust,
But you must hear them, and they know you must.
One plainly sees a friendship firm and true,
Between the noble candidate and you;
So humbly begs (and states at large the case),
'You'll think of Bobby and the little place.'
Stifling his shame by drink, a wretch will come,
And prate your wife and daughter from the room:
In pain you hear him, and at heart despise,
Yet with heroic mind your pangs disguise;
And still in patience to the sot attend,
To show what man can bear to serve a friend.
One enters hungry--not to be denied,
And takes his place and jokes--'We're of a side.'
Yet worse, the proser who, upon the strength
Of his one vote, has tales of three hours' length;
This sorry rogue you bear, yet with surprise
Start at his oaths, and sicken at his lies.
Then comes there one, and tells in friendly way
What the opponents in their anger say;
All that through life has vex'd you, all abuse,
Will this kind friend in pure regard produce;
And having through your own offences run,
Adds (as appendage) what your friends have done,
Has any female cousin made a trip
To Gretna Green, or more vexatious slip?
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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AN ELEGY Upon the most Incomparable K. Charles the First
Call for amazed thoughts, a wounded sense
And bleeding Hearts at our Intelligence.
Call for that Trump of Death the Mandrakes Groan
Which kills the Hearers: This befits alone
Our Story which through times vast Kalendar
Must stand without Example or Repair.
What spowts of melting Clowds what endless springs
Powr'd in the Oceans lapp for offerings
Shall feed the hungry torrent of our grief
Too mighty for expression or belief?
Though all those moistures which the brain attracts
Ran from our eyes like gushing Cataracts,
Or our sad accents could out-tongue the Cryes
Which did from mournful Hadadrimmon rise
Since that remembrance of Josiah slain
In our King's murther is reviv'd again.
O pardon me that but from Holy Writ
Our losse allowes no Parallel to it:
Nor call it bold presumption that I dare
Charles with the best of Judah's Kings compare:
The vertues of whose life did I prefer
The Text acquits me for no Flatterer.
For He like David perfect in his trust,
Was never stayn'd like Him, with Blood or Lust.
One who with Solomon in Judgement try'd,
Was quick to comprehend, Wise to decide,
(That even his Judges stood amaz'd to hear
A more transcendent Moover in their Sphear)
Though more Religious: for when doting Love
A while made Solomon Apostate proove
Charles nev'r endur'd the Truth which he profest
To be unfixt by Bosome interest.
Bold as Jehosaphat, yet forc'd to Fight,
And for his own, no unconcerned Right.
Should I recount His constant time of Pray'r
Each rising Morn and Ev'ning Regular
You'ld say his practice preach'd They ought not Eat
Who by devotion first not earn'd their Meat.
Thus Hezekiah He exceeds in Zeal,
Though not (like him) So facile to reveal
The Treasures of Gods House, or His own Heart
To be supplanted by some forcin art.
And that he might in fame with Joash share
When he the ruin'd Temple did repair,
His cost on Paules late ragged Fabrick spent
Must (if no other) be His Monument.
From this Survey the Kingdom may conclude
His Merits, and her Losses Magnitude.
Nor think he flatters or blasphemes, who tells
That Charls exceeds Judea's Parallels,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry King
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Vote For Me
This crappy west coast hippie scene is becoming quite a drag
It seems that all my freaky clothes are turning into rag
The time has come to break the strings
Free to form constructive things
Tear the world right off its hinges
Chorus
Vote for me
Vote for me
Sign across the line
Vote for me
Vote for me
We can overtake the world
For some millions in this place and their views are never heard
They take precautions just in case you say a dirty word
With adverts comments they promote
Re-elections antidote, just a game to catch your vote
Chorus
Take up your pen
You wont regret it
Never met such an opportunity
For the people who are in the way
Make a new election day
Please correct me if I seem to be making too much noise
In this profession people rush to cut you down to size
So after all the seats are played
Dig my brain with a golden spade
Theres a fortune to be made
Chorus and repeat
song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
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Macbreath
A Tragedy as Played at Ryde**
Macbreath Mr Henley
Macpuff Mr Terry
The Ghost
ACT I
TIME: The day before the election
SCENE: A Drummoyne tram running past a lunatic asylum.
All present are Reform Leaguers and supporters of Macbreath.
They seat themselves in the compartment.
MACBREATH: Here, I'll sit in the midst.
Be large in mirth. Anon we'll all be fitted
With Parliamentary seats.
(Voter approaches the door.)
There's blood upon thy face.
VOTER: 'Tis Thompsons's, then.
MACBREATH: Is he thrown out? How neatly we beguiled
The guileless Thompson. Did he sign a pledge agreeing to retire?
VOTER: Aye, that he did.
MACBREATH: Not so did I!
Not on the doubtful hazard of a vote
By Ryde electors, cherry-pickers, oafs,
That drive their market carts at dread of night
And sleep all day. Not on the jaundiced choice
Of folks who daily run their half a mile
Just after breakfast, when the steamer hoots
Her warning to the laggard, not on these
Relied Macbreath, for if these rustics' choice
Had fall'n on Thompson, I should still have claimed
A conference. But hold! Is Thompson out?
VOTER: My lord, his name is mud. That I did for him
I paid my shilling and I cast my vote.
MACBREATH: Thou art the best of all the shilling voters.
Prithee, be near me on election day
To see me smite Macpuff, and now we shan't
Be long,
(Ghost of Thompson appears.)
What's this? A vision!
Thou canst not say I did it! Never shake
Thy gory locks at me. Run for some other seat,
Let the woods hide thee. Prithee, chase thyself!
(The ghost of Thompson disappears, and Macbreath revives himself
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Exclusively Aloof
You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.
You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.
There are sneaks and evil people...
Creeping up on people.
But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.
You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.
But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.
There are sneaks and evil people.
Creeping up on people.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.
Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.
You dip in your evils.
And I find that I am exclusively aloof.
Others creep on people.
Yet I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Choose that what you do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Freelanced Delusions
Trite expressions exchanged,
Are as satisfying as scheduled rehearsals...
For an anticipated wedding,
That has no performance date to occur.
Or a sermon heard that is preached,
About the evils of sin.
And the evils of sin are taught to teach,
Over and over again.
A repetition done dawns on the listener,
With a purpose served...
That becomes less effective.
And affects discouragement.
Why can't folks just be upfront?
And be for real.
Instead of killing time...
To appeal to one's mind.
Why can't folks just be upfront?
And confront the truth.
Instead of diluting it...
To soothe with freelanced delusions.
Trite expressions exchanged,
Are as satisfying as scheduled rehearsals...
For an anticipated wedding,
That has no performance date to occur.
Or a sermon heard that is preached,
About the evils of sin.
And the evils of sin are taught to teach,
Over and over again.
Why can't folks just be upfront?
And be for real.
Instead of killing time...
To appeal to one's mind.
And why can't folks just be upfront?
With a confronting of the truth.
Instead of diluting it,
To soothe with freelanced delusions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Riding Hard On Their Backs
Charading people under steeples,
On their knees praying to keep...
Things!
And their bling.
Don't know that they have reaped,
Deep ditches to reach out...
To be forgiven for their hypocrisies.
And you can't tell them that they pray,
To keep their evils.
They will attack you 'cause they don't believe that.
And you can't tell them that they pray,
To keep their evils.
They will attack you 'cause they don't believe that.
Although those demons seen are riding hard on their backs.
Charading people under steeples,
On their knees praying to keep...
Things!
And their bling.
Don't know that they have reaped,
Deep ditches to reach out...
To be forgiven for their hypocrisies.
And you can't tell them that they pray,
To keep their evils.
They will attack you 'cause they don't believe that.
And you can't tell them that they pray,
To keep their evils.
They will attack you 'cause they don't believe that.
Although those demons seen are riding hard on their backs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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