O Queen of our procession!
You abuse the maiden formation,
You desire to enter the land of freedom,
You wish for our hold, our wink-fastened eyes
So you might slither within the vivid frame of Eden.
In us you will not find your artificial emancipation;
We are the door standing locked before your heaven.
Your white troops of bureaucracy knock upon with you
From outside-in your savage shrine there is no entry.
Die away your damned beating,
Your slack-jawed supremacy,
Your ashen rap of purity.
You’ve a spiritless God upon your lips.
You bend over in worship of a greased beast,
Then yammer of an incorruptibility and thirst for peace!
You’re a damnable fraud! You poison the god awful truth
And bring good men to don their fury `neath their garments!
Your lies are plunged into the pale, famished mouth of freedom
And you see not this bone-sawn contemptible trait as a disgrace
But as the cold facts of life that the shell-shattered children must face!
Yet, there you stand, my queen, so goddamnededly unbidden!
Cease the rapping of your incessant hammer,
Your empiric grotesqueness,
Your kingdom’s knell.
You shall not enter!
Copyright © 2006 mrp
Rice Tries to Spin it (video)
O! GROTESQUE QUEEN CONDOLEEZZA!
