Bulletin Insert / Illicit Inserts #catholicchurch #scandal #sonnet

Catholic bishops oppose abuse case bill

Bulletin Insert / Illicit Inserts

Bishops in Connecticut have you no shame?
Limit the statute of limitations on sex abuse --
OK will you from anti-abortion stance recuse?
You want a child sex victim to stop claim?

Your church institutions were placed at risk
By celibacy vowed priests who had the hots
For boys, some barely past the age of tots.
To far off places offenders you would whisk.

You fear the millions it would cost to clear
The docket of the court or to silence men
Who’ll never the forget the horny priest’s yen
And will carry life-long guilt, mistrust and fear.

Though your flock, blind followers, will be staying,
This music you must face for illicit organ playing.


April 11, 2010
Connecticut’s Roman Catholic bishops are urging parishes to fight legislation that would extend the statute of limitation in civil child sex abuse cases. The bishops asked pastors to include a bulletin insert this week that warns of potentially disastrous financial fallout. The insert says the bill could dredge up claims more than 70 years old and place all church institutions at risk, even parishes free of claims. The insert is signed by Hartford Archbishop Henry Mansell, Bridgeport Bishop William Lori, and Norwich Bishop Michael Cote. Current law gives victims until age 48 to sue. The new law would allow people above that age to join in lawsuits filed by younger people. State Representative Beth Bye, a cosponsor of the bill, said the bishops’ letter was inflammatory and showed a lack of focus on abuse victims. (AP)

Two Ill Winds Breaking

Why Fart Thou? Sonorous Sonnet (Pedontic)
(In keeping with my practice of modeling some of my poetry on other poems, I adapted a Sicilian Petrarchan to create these two new, very similar, ones: two riffs on the same theme. ‘Pedo’ is a vulgar Spanish word for ‘fart’.)

Oh why fart thou my bedmate I pray?
Dost thou not love me, like I do thee now?
Am I to have lost my nose scents this day
When I endureth thy inanity, in bed with thou?
Why does thou treat a dear bedmate this way?
To be ashamed, I wouldst for the endow
For a gaseous impunity has now fled astray.
My nostrils burn, eyes are watering, and how!
Harken, ‘twas a rumbling noise I didst hear,
Hidden ‘neath the your olde pillows three,
My tortured senses now shaketh with fear
Mayhaps tis flatus, what else could it be?
“Twas another ill wind? How drear my dear;
With all that poison, I departeth from thee.

Petrarchan Ill Wind Breaking
With apologies to serious poets & those who love poetry

Oh don’t fart thou my crude friend, Okay?
Dost thy not respect me, you smelly sow?
Am I to be with your stink and odor today,
When I shareth my table at home with thou?
Why dost thou treat an acquaintance this way?
To be shamed, I wouldst hope thee avow.
Your understanding of decent bounds is astray
Civility prohibits fight, I only raise a brow.

“Harken, twas a ripping sound I didst hear,
‘Neath your comforter, a noxious spree.
Your trembling body announces, I fear
Another flatulent explosion soon to be.
Twas an apt foretelling, my eyes did sear:
With tears I rise give notice and flee.

This was the serious poem that triggered my buffooneries.Where Art Thou. Sicilian Sonnet (Petrarchian)

Posted January 13th, 2010 by willow

Oh where art thou my dearest lover I pray,
Dost thy not love me, like I do thee now,
Am I to have lost my true honour this day
When I shareth my vanity, alone with thou,
Why dost thou treat a poor maiden this way,
To be shamed, I wouldst for thee endow
For alas my purity hast now fled astray
My forsaken chastity taketh a final bow.
Harken, `twas a broken twig I didst hear,
Hidden `neath the olde sweeping, willow tree,
My trembling body now shaketh with fear
Mayhaps tis my lover, most precious be he,
"Twas that thee my love? oh my dearest dear
With all my person, I trembleth, for thee

Ashburn Burns Ass

Bakersfield awakened to the news:
Swerving car of anti swishing views
Senator, just leaving funny Faces –
Not good news for political races.

It’s “C” Street hypocrisy return,
Leaving a Gay bar was Roy Ashburn.
Burning ashes doesn’t start a fire
Nor does this arrest raise my ire.

Righteous Roy, the gay molester,
Homophobic boil did burn and fester.
Where’s your indignation, Christian sir?
Under Macho saddle, queer burr?

Bashing queers as tactical campaigns
Risk media lights on closet floor stains.



http://www.topix.com/news/gay/2010/03/anti-gay-senator-roy-ashburn-arrested-after-leaving-gay-nightclub

http://tw0.us/6jn

Anti-gay senator Roy Ashburn arrested after leaving gay nightclub

Around 2am Wednesday, March 3rd, California State Senator, Roy Ashburn (R-Bakersfield) was pulled over in his state-issued black Chevy Tahoe. There was an unidentified man travelling with the senator. Sources say the senator had just left the gay nightclub, Faces, when police noticed the car swerving dangerously and pulled him over.

Sputtering Poet & Response to Critic

Sputtering Poet

I’m not energized for writing verses,
The pump is sputtering and I feel tired.
I’m at the opposite of being wired
And wordsmithing might record reverses.

Poet hasn’t written anything decent
In a while. Versing when not inspired
Might not be best: it might get mired
In phrases clearly not by muses sent.

Nonetheless sparking poetic synapses,
Though inspiration is at low voltage,
Spurt juice enough for rhyming wattage:
Inferior stanzas are better than total lapses.

As mother tends ill child though she’s dying,
Poet nurses verses through feverish crying.


@JCred: I once wrote a better poem. with my dick. RT @elmonte09: Sputtering Poet

To Critic With Poetic Phallus

I’ve no envy of your penis poem,
Poet with a literate peepee,
Even if your versed member be
Quite able to write and type ‘em.

Casting verse in twitter stream
Risks judgements such as this.
I’ve dark wish for poetic bris:
Foreskin editing, my scheme.

Just cut the tip of flaccid rhyme
Introduced by your witty penis:
Not converting David into Venus
Yet with cut rate snitch in time.

Dear critic with cultured phallus:
I’m not macho: I bear no malice.

Ode to a Laptop Screen (Neither Greek nor an Urn)

Ode to a Laptop Screen

(With further apologies to Keat's Ode on a Grecian Urn)
How still the keyboard sits in quietness,
The bastard-child of touch and typist time,
Selectric’s history, now faster express
A speedy tale of PCs in our rhyme:
What typist’s legend haunts about thy shape
Of dictation tedious stories told?
The processing of words on screen
Stopped the tedious hard print cold!
Of liquid paper and self correcting tape,
Ancient carbon paper, what do those mean?

Hard memories are sweet, but those with speed
Are sweeter still, so see that RAM is fast;
Not just the min but max of giga need,
With hertz to spare and memory to last
If lights go out. This byte-ful brain
Is more than scribing words to print:
Typewriters checked no words or syntax;
Editing and cleaning up’s a lesser strain
Though handwriting and spelling now are lax.
Each product is enriched by triple-W mint.

Ah happy, happy search that has a spread
Of information never seen before,
To questions strange we once did dread:
Answers accumulate and more and more.
Oh happy internet with many useful sites
For ever up and there to be enjoy’d
From sciences and hobbies, to habits weird
Freedom’s reaching new populist heights:
Ever ready, for many purposes employed.
(What Whole Earth Catalog pioneered ?)

Where goest we in this computer age?
To what employ these screens and text?
Social media reflect common ills and rage,
Children’s online uses have adults perplexed.
Spleen notes burst, bigotry explodes online,
Facebook flames and Twitter tiffs
Are constant proof of obvious hates
Posts can span the odious to sublime
Most reactions and submissions are riffs
Of common prejudices, all that irates.

O Laptop! My work & play partner dear,
How helpful two-score years ago you’d been
When college papers had me filled with fear.
With online resources, five footnotes are thin.
Optimist genes drive me to vision of hope:
When old age shall this generation waste,
The net shall remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Seek out the truth, that’s your duty, --that is all
Ye search online, and all ye need to know.”

Ode on a Freethinker’s Burn

Ode on a Freethinker’s Burn
(Patterned after Keat’s Ode On a Grecian Urn)

Thou shrill unvarnished bride of godliness,
Thou poster-child of faith’s thought crime,
Christian witness who must always express
A bible-tale, and bring up Jesus every time:
That grief-fringed legend you can’t escape
Of pain and death, the fabled cross
And resurrection: relived each year,
With human sin the guilty cause.
What mad pursuit? What jaws of devil gape?
What sin occasions? What hellish fear?

Lacerations bleed, but pricks of mind
Are deeper, therefore, the guilt you lay on
One sensitive to words is more unkind.
So bearer of bad tidings, begone.
Fundamental Christian you must leave.
Thy song be silenced: I don’t care
To hear of virgin birth nor mystic bliss,
Your proofless news are bad for me: I grieve
For other victims of your treacherous kiss,
You don’t bring peace, I must declare.

Ah, happy, happy thoughts! That had me shed
Your myths, and ever bid the faith adieu;
And, happy intellect unwearied,
For ever giving thoughts for ever new;
What happy freedom, unfettered love!
No more wasted days in prayer employed,
No more nights in tortured guilt
No more hell below, heaven above
The heart is light, unburdened, buoyed,
A freedom song sung with human lilt.

Why return to ancient tale of sacrifice?
To painful altar, to egregious priest?
Think thou I’m vulnerable to lies
With plastered saints and cherubs friezed?
All parables and sermons I deplore;
Each prayer and litany I reject
I’m happy with my limits human.
The altar of scientific wisdom I adore
To hardwon evolutions I genuflect
No gods gave rigor to this acumen.

O Atheist thought! Fair attitude! By breed
Of bright wit humans ever wrought,
With evidence and rigor, no ghostly need;
Churches’ psalm dost interrupt our thought
With stolid myths: be silent now!
When death comes and those worms call,
Our findings will remain, amidst your woe
Of sins and deities, and how in prayer to bow.
Reason brings truth, truth reason, -- that is all
I know on earth, and all I need to know.

Progressive Poetry

Public Option, Now! Single Payer, My Prayer. #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog

Britons Unite To Defend Their National Health Service

The UK Health Service is loudly defended
As American conservatives tear it down.
It’s so revered that even Tories are offended:
How dare land of doctor fee slight the Crown.

Now even Stephen Hawking joined in the fray,
Insulted by claims unsupported and public attacks;
Fired back “without NHS wouldn’t be here today.”
National health attackers were tagged as quacks.

Claiming Senator Kennedy was not getting care
From publicly run services: answer, false:
True, if our current system is left in disrepair --
If we continue dancing “Stop Obama Waltz”.

Most of us agree we need a change,
So listening to noisy sicko’s very strange.

Public Option Villanelle #1

Do not drop public health option please!
The ill and poor can find no sweeter path:
Cause not the faith in the change to cease.

Ignore all the screaming news scum sleaze,
Though harsh words cut forked lightning swath;
Malicious minorities attempting mean squeeze.

Consider those idiots a mangy dog’s fleas
Remember the elections and do the math,
The great majority with real change are at peace.

The insurance and health industries are keys
To the well funded anti-change path:
Change allergy, lower profits, makes’em sneeze.

So go not quietly into health care disease
Confront the politicians with your wrath
No single payer or public option does displease.

Go not quietly into ill health and disease
Confront conservatives with your wrath!
Use your needs and numbers to squeeze:
Go not quietly into ill health and disease.

Demand Public Option Right - Villanelle #2

Go not quietly into unhealthy night
While health industry vultures
Put profits over our uncovered plight.

The moneyed powers with media might
Orchestrating siren song overtures
Confusing many cause mass fear to ignite.

With puppets like Beck, not so bright,
One wishes for strong mouth sutures
For those idiots that the FOX naïve delight.

It’s clear that those Republicans, the right,
Are concerned for wacko base futures:
For more reasonable party hacks a plight.

As to criticism of Obama, no end in sight,
Because of racist and fascist cultures:
The loss of power by bigots who are white.

Whatever one thinks of this difficult fight,
The multitudes who voted were apertures.
Do not give up to lies or political fright
Go not quietly: demand public option right.

Literatwit Revival #poetry #twitwall #sonnet

Like tweet poetry, lean left or liberal?
Enjoy words in varied forms of verse?
Follow @elmonte09 for wit diverse
It’ll always have a view not quite amoral.

These poems started as a twitter game
And TwitWall became the main site.
The views hit thousands, what delight.
Twitter blocked for TOS. How lame.

The previous tag @aureliom was blocked
But TwitWall went ahead and saved
Poems in hundreds over which he slaved
To write and edit. Friends were shocked.

So now elmonte09 carries on with wit.
If interested, add follow, as twitter bit.

The Health Insurance Alka-Seltzer

Drop, Drop, Recizz, Recizz,
Oh what a relief it is.
Got a tumor, new malignant growth?
Sorry, pre-existing, to cover it we’re loathe.

Drop, Drop, Recizz, Recizz,
Oh what a relief it is.
Your wife is diabetic, your pain is chronic?
Dialisis costs dearly: rest for her, you try tonic.

Drop, Drop, Recizz, Recizz,
Oh what a relief it is.
Your dying parent needs hospice care?
Home’s filled with paying folks, no spare.

Drop, Drop, Recizz, Recizz,
Oh what a relief it is.
Where’d people get ideas so crazy and infirm;
Health Insurance is for protection, long term?

Drop, Drop, Recizz, Recizz,
Oh what a relief it is.

Rescission’s how to make profits to the max:
All major ills pre-exist, give that bill the ax.

Just Chuck Beck and Grassley #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog
Grassley brings Glenn Beck’s book to town hall meeting to ‘pass it on.’

Our Senator from Iowa called Chuck
Is now a critic pleased to pass the Beck.
His hope is clear: Obamas plan to fuck
With books that stir with lies and wreck.

One thing is clear about their dual hopes:
Dumb Glenn and Chuck are spreading lies
With populist veneer while party’s on the ropes.
Their side, Big Bucks, was trimmed to size.

The “Common Sense” we need is dialogue,
Not screaming crazies, whether real or feigned.
Campaign to muddle with nonsense monologue
Reminds of times when Nazi power reigned.

Some fears are honest, understood with logic,
But smear campaigns are tactics hyperbolic.


Newt Not Cute: Change-of-Consultation #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog
Matt Taibbi Taibblog
Newt Gingrich Changes What’s Left of his Mind on End-of-life Care

He praised advance care planning, did Newt;
And gloated over hospice and palliative care.
But anti- to Democrat’s suggestions, not cute:
Now Gingrich spreads party lies, feeds the scare.

He loved Gunderson “Advance Directives” in La Crosse;
No objection to those end-of-life consultations.
Now the party wants to scare old folks and come across
As the warning signal about govmint aberrations.

If Newt could influence the current congress on health,
And repeated his thoughts from the PBS query of late,
He’d march with Obama not slink in Republican stealth:
But he must join the Palins and Steeles, damn straight.

He’s not the Gingrich that stole the health plan:
Just newt: short-legged salamander. Pity the man.

Gingrich responding to a PBS query:
“Let me give you an example that I find fascinating. In LaCrosse, Wisc., the Gundersen Lutheran Hospital system is, according to the Dartmouth [Atlas of Health Care], the least expensive place in America for the last two years of life. They have an advanced directive program, and over 90 percent of their patients have an advanced directive.

And Now Let Us Praise…#hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog

http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/08/13/king.sotu.economy/index.html

Herbert Hale is Indian Lakota in sonnet I praise;
A hero he is but you would doubt if you saw
The life that he leads as he ekes out his solitary days
In log cabin shack that he owns in the res: life is raw.

He twice saw VietNam, his patriotic duty to do
For a country that sees him as fodder for canon.
In his current abode he has benefits few,
Not even a tribal income – shameful abandon.

The home so bare is defended as adequate.
Yet with brain tumor this man has no support.
Seventeen dollars a week is the aggregate
Of the service he’s given to us. Some report.

This American hero living alone and abject,
Indicts conservative idiots who justice reject
Crash Diet to Crush Reform. Amen. #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog

Bachmann: Prayer and fasting will help defeat health care reform

Joining all the millions fasting by circumstance
Of poverty and need, Michelle Bachman prays
For health care reform defeat, a disgrace
When considering the poor needing sustenance.

This pro-life anti-change proponent seems not to care
For families before, during and after giving birth,
Those lacking insurance and with financial dearth.
She continues to spread lies and oldsters to scare.

Skipping meals is dramatic for someone well fed;
The families, old folks and children undernourished
So used to starving don’t look up as camera’s flourished
While U.S. Congress rep makes the news, pounds shed.

Fasting tradition has predecessors like Gandhi,
But for Bachman, it’s a phony modus operandi.

Try to Remember and the Present Dismember… #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog
(This is satire, gang, OK?)

I Want MY America Back: The Good Old Days Judge H. Lee Sarokin

Those were the good old days before the feds
Were in our lives: no medicare, no checks
For unemployment nor help with all our meds:
No minimum wage nor OSHA saving necks.

If banks would fail, depositors lost money:
If products killed our kin, it’s buyer’s fault.
We hate the gov’mint for “don’t smoke, honey”
Let me enjoy my cancer, white sugar and my salt.

Those bureaucrats build ponds and dams and roads:
Let good old business take the lead on that:
Let policing and firemen be free-market loads:
On broad for-profit shoulders feed a fat cat.

We pine for past when slavery was legal,
When women knew their place, and man was regal.

Grand Old Phantoms: Cult Crisis #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog Edit
Grand Old Phantoms: Cult Crisis #hcr #healthcare #p2 #topprog

The Republican Party Is Turning Into A Cult

The party of Lincoln becoming a cult? Oh my.
Delusions and lying hucksters are the drivers.
Appealing to the plebes darkest fears is their cry
To those seeing themselves as poor white survivors.

From birthers to deathers and tea baggers in between
The party is scraping bottom of the melting pot.
With shallow patriotic slogans and pricks to the spleen
It’s stirring nativists, militias and keeping them hot.

Republicans and the south in serious numbers
Believe the outright lies and fear enemy phantoms:
The acquiescing leadership of bumblers
Are all slipping to slimy ethical bottoms.

The danger of this is there is no distance or space
From loose gun assassins: Republicans, a disgrace.