Poetry: Schooling the Mitt

by: David E. Patton

Politicians are liars
Who don’t believe
Their own lies
O, Mitt how hollow
Is the shell
That can not be filled
Mitt my would be man
In the clock of the preis
Can you not
Speak in your native tongue
Must you speak
And minute sooner follow
Your handlers
Are handling to rewrite
Your just spoken words
Get a grip dear fellow
Connect, if you can
47% have the president’s back
Sir, please if you will
Not off shore your position
Please, please
We beg you sir
Learn to use a calculator
And one made not
By Texas Instrument
Way back in 1973
I do mean
Sir, yes, yes indeed
This veteran knows
That there are
Submarines that
Plows the world’s seas
And if your handlers
Can agree to agree
If Sununu
That spin minister
Can lie with a smile
Can rewrite what he saw
With his own eyes
And heard not the hearing
Of what was truly said
Yes politician are indeed
Liars who
Believe not their own lie
O dear fellow
O Mitt where have you been
To say that Iran
Does not butt
Up against the sea
Dear sir
Your rewriters
That Sunun fellow
Who have no neck
Choke to re speak
What you can not
In your Mitt’s
Wildest dreams
Speak to Americans
Like we be
Smarter then platitudes
Offered as if
Heard around the boardroom table
Hell we speak American English
As well as the next fellow
We comprehend
Nosotros, los estadounidenses de la comprensión
Are you connectable to understand
Dear Mitt, my heart
Tear for thee
It seem, yes
It seem that you
Stop learning
In 1952
But take heart sir
Keep hope alive
You can learn
To connect by and by
Just live like you makes
$50,000 a year
It will connect your butt
Tinted with fear
it will put in the heart of
Suburbia or Urban’s plight
Teach you to connect
With neighbors not just friend
But this poet tells
You sir straight and true
There is no time
Left for you to leard
What Already you should know
To learn what you should’ve
Would’ve if you knew
That you was truly
Born to lead the troops
To be fit to be
Our President in twenty one-two
O how hollow
That shell that
Can not be filled
O how handlers
Shift you in the winds
O Mitt, O mitt
Will you learn that out history
Never stays in our past
The past will always
Yes this is true
Come forward in time
To haunt you
And hunt you down
With it’s truth.

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