About Us   Publish and be read! Poetry, lyrics, short stories, scripts, words of wisdom, features, memorials, blogs (a day in my life), memoirs, history, business, and I.T.
Home   Adults   Youngsters   The Plot Thickens   Publications  

More by this Author
© writebuzz® 2004-2024
All rights reserved.

The copyright of each of the publications on this site is retained by the author of the publication. writebuzz.com has been granted permission to display the publications under the terms and conditions of membership to the original site. Publications should not be copied in either print or electronic form without prior permission. Where permission is obtained the authors must be acknowledged. Thank you.
  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: Stuart Johnson

Title: A Petition to send Ann Coulter to the Guillotine

You're a duff karaoke, Ms Coulter
You're a badly sung song
The notes are off-key and your facts are all wrong
Bigoted conservative
Lie after lie
As Waters once sang
" You're nearly a laugh, but you're really a cry "
There ain't no God, Ms Coulter, I'm sorry to tell
There ain't no Heaven, and sadly no Hell
Because if God did exist, he'd be shaking his head
He'd laugh at the irony you'd face once you're dead
He'd punish your soul for the things that you've said
Condemn you to burn and direct you down south
Should never have opened your lice-ridden mouth
Earth is the crop, Bush and Cheney the weevil
But you Ms Coulter are the heart of the evil
You and your chronies - Limbaugh, Savage, and Hannity
Repulsive opinions and spinners of insanity
I'll gladly be muslim, if you represent christianity
For some crazy reason, the masses tune in
And swallow your bile
Thus laying the groundwork for policies so vile
Put your money where your fat mouth is, Ms Coulter
You advocate revenge, conversion and slaughter
So let's start with you, NOW SCRAMBLE TO YOUR FEET
And we'll release the dogs to hunt you down as meat
Let the " Jersey girls " be witness, give them the box seat
And when the show is over, the wives of nine-eleven
( whom you so appalingly defamed, wives of fallen heroes )
Can kick your scattered body parts
All the way back to NYC, and back to Ground Zero
Whilst the all-seeing decides, with furrowed brow and frown
That you ain't going up, sweetheart you're going down!
Some might say the likes of you
Are a beacon of freedom of speech
Yeah, so long as it's your voice alone
Whilst those who oppose are washed up on the beach
So let's hear your vote for public execution
Of right wing scum who preach persecution
Kneel Ms Coulter, Kneel
Beneath the falling blade
And if this God you say you speak for
If he really does exist
Then he will surely judge you
Yes, God will surely judge you!

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

writebuzz®... the word is out!