Wednesday, January 27, 2010

A Spate of Unions

That which wasn’t is becoming by
best estimations something we’ll achieve
within what I’m assured’s a reasonable time—
as soon as now, if I can be believed.
The past is past. The future is to come.
Mistakes, if they were made, and let me say,
I can conceive that they were made by some
impatient staffer, unpaid junior aide,
although of course I can’t with certainty
identify what they might be, because,
let me be clear, they were not made by me,
will nonetheless . . . where was I? Let me pause.
To those who’d make us choose between what may
and might never be done, I say, I say.

9 comments:

Anonymous said...

Put Tomlin in.

Montag said...

lost my train of thought there.

Anonymous said...

obama admin speech office, hire this man stat!

Anonymous said...

That's actually pretty good.

Spike said...

Wait, is this a real poem, or one of those Donald-Rumsfeld-in-poetry-form kind of things? Because as poetry, I think it's pretty fucking good.

IOZ said...

Bitch please. Lotta playas can rhyme, but my shit scans.

Enron said...

And Vanilla Ice is attempting to beat box in the background.

Anonymous said...

And I bet you know all of Robert Van Fucking Winkle's songs by heart, don't you, you fucking wigger? SHUT UP.

Anonymous said...

Dope.