Obama & How I am a Racist who Hates his Color(s) – a poem

Obama "Progress"

 

A poem in four stanzas,
because why write a long one,
if a short one can sum it up,
just about as well,
and take less time,
and effort, frankly,
I mean both to write,
and to read;
so four should work out well enough,
for both of us,
and I hope you think so, too,
even though I suppose I could,
think of ways to make it longer,
if I thought it needed to be,
but here it is now,
before I may be tempted to write more;
I think by now you may appreciate it,
I mean at least appreciate its brevity,
that is unless you think it’s too long, now;
but if you think it is too long,
please don’t bother to tell me,
because it would take too long to shorten it,
for both of us.

 


And so I dedicate the following opus to Jenn, otherwise known as @sowhatrusaying. What I’m saying is, I found her being harassed in Twitter as a “#niggerizer” – yeah, let me say that again.

Our lovely compatriot Jenn (see just below) was called a “#niggerizer,” for being critical of Barack Obama and presumably his globalist Marxist policies.  Just think of what it must be like, to be a young black woman who is an outspoken, pro-authentic-American (we patriots should get to be double-hyphenated-Americans, after all) conservative.

I will put a screen capture of that abusive tweet, down below my little poem – below all four stanzas.



I hate Obama’s hues, don’t you?
I hate each hue, I really do -
both Marxist red and U.N. blue,
I really do, I hate both two!

I hate both hues because I love,
first, God, who made us in and of,
the freedom meant for you and me,
to love by our own means, you see.

Makes me a racist, yes I am,
I am, I am, dear sir or ma’am,
to wit, I love the human race,
to be not lowered from our place.

Our place? Right under God, you see.
That’s true for you, that’s true for me;
kept free from under slavery,
to global state monstrosity.

Obama "Change"


And here is that tellingly absurd tweet to Jenn. It is a shame but not really a surprise that it comes from an area of Wisconsin where there is a significant union presence. There is a long history of Marxist union control in my state of residence. It was infamous for that in the early 20th Century – no wonder Appleton’s own Joe McCarthy was on his ear and no wonder the John Birch Society settled here – and lately it is again.


 

Let those who love the Lord hate evil,
for he guards the lives of his faithful ones
and delivers them from the hand of the wicked.

Love must be sincere.
Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.

Psalm 97:10; Romans 12:9; New International Version 1984


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Comments

  1. One good poem deserves another, so here is one of my own…

    A poet’s work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep.

    Salman Rushdie

    “What Poets Are.” By J.D.Flynn

    Poets are singular, like a middle finger which stands alone in the face of adversity.

    Poets are loud and proud, with chests puffed and shoulders squared, too brave or belligerent not to take a dare, or do battle with any windmill.

    There is scarcely a cause or an underdog we will not defend, regardless of whether or not the aggrieved party is worthy of our righteous indignation.

    You see, Poets are staunch individualists who often feel compelled to challenge the prevailing culture by refusing to remain silent.

    If we see something, we’re gonna say something;
    You can count on that Big Sista!

    As if you could ever shut us up!
    Puh-leeze!

    We are the Winston Smith’s of Oceania, who have begun to awaken to the internal shouts of “Down with Big Brother! Down with Big Brother,” echoing in the recesses of our kool-aid soaked minds.

    While “Obama Zombies” roll off the state run press, stamped out like Stepford Wives, carbon copies, one just like the other, shouting catchy slogans of hope and change.

    Barely cognizant of the fact they are being duped.

    Above all, the mark of a Poet is that he is true to himself.

    Poets are not afraid to declare who and what we really are or to live our lives in full color!!!

  2. aren’t libs just sweet? There are no gutters they will not wallow in, no stoops too low, to defend their naked emperor! what true dedication they bring to their goose-step march for their colors so true, the red and blue! I had a “liberal” friend the other day, dismiss an article of Thomas Sowell, with… ready… “he’s an uncle tom” of course! Why didn’t I realize that? His first name IS Tom and all, and he’s black and conservative, so hence! BTW, my friend and I were having a discussion about race in the USA. But she had no qualms about demeaning and stereotyping a man with dark skin because of the color of his skin! I asked her, what the heck ever happened to the dream? Ya know, where people should be judged not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character? I guess that was a dream of yesteryear, today prog/libs have a new vision and its the opposite of color blind. But really I think they are merely blind to the truth, in so many ways.

  3.   The American Paradigm

    America you’re addicted to a lie
    So hopelessly afflicted that soon you’ll die
    Still you keep going back to it time after time
    You’re drunk on the American paradigm

    So blind and in desperate need of an intervention
    Your intoxicated mind can only think in one dimension
    Brainwashed and controlled it’s far beyond a crime
    You’re drunk on the American paradigm

    In a cesspool of propaganda you’re marinating 
    Floating with all the left-right fools bloviating 
    Fixed in your ideology dumbded-down by design
    You’re drunk on the American paradigm

    You serve the establishment and their banking cartel
    The federal reserve and their money from hell
    So devoid of critical thinking in your one-track mind
    You’re drunk on the American paradigm

    The ruling elite are your enablers, their new world order is at stake
    And the last thing that they need is to have you conscious and awake
    So they keep you distracted naive and in line
    Keep you drunk on the American paradigm

    One day you will hit bottom just as planned
    Your worthless dollar no longer in demand
    Conquered from within, it’s treason defined
    You’re drunk on the American paradigm

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