"The Cheney"

Buhdydharma, one of the intrepid proprietors at the blog Docudharma, has written a poem I've taken quite a fancy to. It's not easy to write political poetry, or really any poetry at all. I'm not sure he meant to write such a good piece, and I hope he doesn't mind my reproducing it here, with the original line spacing.

So, without further ado... "The Cheney"

The Cheney was born with the stars

The Cheney has always existed

It is the Cheney that rustles the grass behind you

As you walk through the dark woods

It is the Cheney's eyes that you glimpse

Behind the hung clothes in the dark closet

The Cheney is it, that goes bump in the night and that hides under the bed

It's passage bring goosebumps

The Cheney has always been here

They say

The Cheney is in the eye

Of the shot and dying once caged quail

The Cheney is in the eyes

Of the thin Iraqi child

As she she cannot sleep from hunger

The Cheney , so they say

Spies on lovers, but for a pleasure obscene

To catch them breaking rules

The Cheney bursts forth

In the explosion of sorrows in a drunken barfight when it has all become too much

In the lovers fist and the regret that follows the change

When it cannot be taken back

The Cheney lies in the dark, waiting, plotting, watching, stalking

Feeding on despair and brimming anger

Feasts on hurt and death and pain

And gnaws at the bones of our weaknesses

It sleeps in your fears

In all our fears

Where the sunlight never goes

The Cheney has always been here, so they say

That before one passes from this place

A new one must be born

It will always haunt our dreams

To show us what true meanness is

And now.... it wears a dress???