Hillarymandias

We continue our coverage of Hillary's Wisconsin Wipeout:

Hillarymandias

I met a pollster from an antique land,
Who said--"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
  Stand, one in Texas...., one near Canton,
  Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose brow, and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, 
  Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
  Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, 
  The electorate that mocked them, and the press that fed;
  And on the pedestal, these words appear:
  My name is Hillarymandias,   
  Look on my resume and campaign fundraising, ye fellow Democrats, and despair!
  Nothing else remains. Round the decay
  Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
  The lone and level sands stretch far away. Heh.

Many thanks to BumperStickerist, who is writing for the ages.

Comments

[Cecil Turner]

Brave, brave Hillary! You shall not have died in vain!

Uh, I'm-I'm not quite dead, sir.

Well, you shall not have been mortally wounded in vain!

Uh, I-I think uh, I could pull through, sir.

Oh, I see.

[centralcal]

Perfect and so clever!

"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone. . ."
Would those be her famous "cankles?"

[Porchlight]

I love it, centralcal. Maybe BumperStickerist would consider an edit to "Two vast and ankleless legs of stone...."

[bfwebster]

Brilliant. One of my favorite poems, too. ..bruce..

[Appalled Moderate]

Let's try this excerpt from Macbubba:

MACBUBBA:
Hang out our banners on the podium;
The cry is still Hill 08:' Inevitability
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let Obama
Speechify with thieved words. They mean naught.
Words will not take that that should be ours,
We will yet match them with vile deeds o’er words,
And put words in their place.
A cry of women within
What is that noise?
PENN:
It is the cry of women, my good lord.

MACBUBBA
I have almost forgot the howl of them;
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;
Shrillness, familiar to my rancorous thoughts
Cannot once start me.

Wherefore was that cry?

PENN
The Hillary, my lord, is dead.
MACBUBBA
She should have died in Texas;
It would not have counted for such a state.
is not blue, and won’t be won. But now our race,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last delegate of recorded time,
And all our primaries have lighted fools
The way to her last speech. Out, out, brief candle!
Hill's but my stalking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets her hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: Her’s was my tale
But told by an idiot, with sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

[JJ]

At the end, the "heh" works well. Nice bump of poetic timing for the exit, heh.

[moptop]

I always pictured her more like Scarface "I only want what I got coming to me." Look how many bullets it took to kill him.

[Stephen Macklin]

The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The candidate cannot stand the voter;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The Barack-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of victory is drowned;
The best lack all experience, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Chappaqua
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with woman body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant pundits.
The polls drop again but now I know
That eight years of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a smiling Bush,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Washington to be sworn?

[charles austin]

From Emily Dickinson, unabridged:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

[rogera]

Damn--you people are GOOD!

[Ralph L]

Soom the Clintons will be one with Ninevah, and Tired.

And Ninevah just washed her dress.

[arrowhead]

Hillarymandias

Brilliant!

[liza]

you guys are too talented :P

[Ray Fowler]

"Hillarymandias" - I love it! Percy Bysshe Shelley must be rolling in his grave - with laughter! Now check out "Hillary Godmother" (with apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein).

Hillary Godmother

[Rudyard Culkin]

HungaDin

I shan't forget the night
When I dropped behind the fight
With an Intern where my belt plate should have been.
I was chokin mad with lust,
And was just about to thrust
When in comes grinnin gruntin HungaDin.
Din lifted up my head,
And told me I was dead.
She said I'd learn to live without a spleen.
She was bawlin mad and drunk,
but of all the thoughts I've thunk,
I really screwed the pooch for HungaDin. Heh.

I love poems that end in Heh.

[Kemmer Anderson]

A Miltonic Sonnet for Barack Obama

Words wing from the oracle at Delphi
Around the dome drawn by Jefferson's hand
Through the Declaration that formed this land
To make conscience free from forces that lie,
Deceiving us with a blind tyrant's eye
To put out all those dreams the Founders planned
Until a voice breaks through the hourglass sand
With the resonant sound of Freedom's cry.

Let us write together the next chapter
In this odyssey toward Liberty
For the people's American drama
With epic characters staged to capture
The hallowed White House and set time free
With words of hope from Barack Obama.

Kemmer Anderson 2008

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