Ode to our Former President

As promised, here is another of my amazing poems. This one had to follow the rules of a ballad and had to include the words flip-flop and endangered. The poem is a bit more harsh than I would normally be, but I had to choose words that I might not have if I weren't trying to meet a particular syllable count or meter :) You wouldn't think it from reading it, but it took hours and hours to write, and Brett collaborated with me on the ideas--we brainstormed all of the things that we related to George Bush and then I included as many of them as possible in a rhyming ballad. (A ballad, by the way is traditionally about the demise of someone or something, so I chose the demise of the Bush administration.) And as much as I tried, I think I broke the most rules when writing this poem because I had trouble keeping my lines iambic--ah, well. Anyway, here it is:

The Ballad of 43

43 had great potential;
his daddy led the way.
Ivy education. No less.
Money was just for play.

All play and little work led to
battles with drugs and booze.
Too much fun with skulls and bones, his
exploits made the news.

But cowboy charm and pulling strings
got him out of trouble.
His daddy knew a few tricks to set
him straight on the double.

He made two important changes
soon as he got the nod.
He roved his way to politics
and then he found God.

Oil made him rich and powerful.
Everything went his way.
He even ran for governor;
elections were his forté.

“Why stop there?” he thought with vision.
“I have a right to bid.
I am heading straight for the top
just like my daddy did.”

By the luck of a hanging chad
he won his first election.
He became Commander-in-Chief
despite public selection.

His term began with a bang
An attack on his soil.
Ignoring the real cause, he thought,
“We must protect our oil.”

He answered back with great thunder.
Hubris got in the way.
“Mission accomplished!” he proclaimed,
but we’re still there today.

His ratings soared to 84
(but) plummeted just as quick
when the public began to cry,
“We are in this too thick!”

The people allowed for his flaws.
Again, he rose to the top.
Elected again with one phrase:
“My opponent flip-flops.”

Since then, however, there has been
crisis after crisis.
Katrina opened the flood gates.
That was the end of bliss.

Bumbling through with malaprops
of nuc-u-lar proportions.
Military ops are failing;
No plans for abortion.

Theological hypocrite,
his views make one wonder.
International terrorist,
tearing the land asunder.

Fuel prices reached a record high;
ANWR is endangered;
misery index has increased;
economy is bemired.

43, the levee’s broken,
and, unless you are blind,
acknowledge that your legacy
has left this nation behind.