This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO


Richard Bruce Cheney (born January 30, 1941) is the 46th and current Vice President of the United States, serving under President George W. Bush. Previously, he served as White House Chief of Staff, member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Wyoming, and Secretary of Defense. In the private sector, he was the Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Halliburton Energy Services; he is still a major stockholder. SCARIEST MOMENT IN HISTORY> On June 29, 2002, he briefly assumed the powers and duties of the presidency as Acting President when Mr. Bush underwent a medical exam involving anesthetics.
Cheney was born in Lincoln, Nebraska, to Richard Herbert Cheney and Marjorie Dickey. As a child, he attended Calvert Elementary School before his family moved to Casper, Wyoming where he attended Natrona County High School. His father worked for the U.S. Department of Agriculture as a soil conservation agent. He has a brother, Robert, and a sister, Susan. He briefly studied at Yale University, but left after performing poorly academically. He earned both a B.A. and M.A. in political science from the University of Wyoming. He would later start doctoral studies at the University of Wisconsin
In 1964, he married Lynne Vincent, his high-school sweetheart, whom he had met at age fourteen. Mrs. Cheney served as Chair of the National Endowment for the Humanities from 1986 to 1996. She is now a public speaker, author, and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.

It was from the flat water
And husks of Nebraska
With her sadistic winters
That loosed the skulking evil.

Writhing near the seats of appointed kings
It plays upon inhabitants
As if channeling Stradivari-claws,
And we, the quivering bow
Wrenched within its hold,
Sense the heartbeat of wickedness
Driving us awkwardly over horror.

It is this creature’s blackheart
That breathes within our wound,
A miserable thump away from Caesar’s fantasy,
The emperor of tyranny.

The tramping evil must not reign
For it shall quite likely be our end.

As with Caesar’s many campaigns,
Triumph choked in massive death,
So too has this beast wrenched its gutless,
Livid fingers over kingdom's child.

Far removed from the plains of home
It now breathes upon the abrasion
Slickly coursing over Mesopotamia,
Tossing, heaping its human devices
Upon the harsh climate of her capture.

Hovering too near the seats of kings
It gnaws at flesh toward its dawn.

Copyright © 2007 mrp / thepoetryman


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