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democracy's @ a crossroads
copyright c 2001 drew dellinger
democracy's at a crossroads
of lost dreams and lost votes
so yes I'm contesting the election
requesting the rejection
of invalid blocks at the ballot box
weakass leaders speak as
cheaters seek to eke
out victory
bend the
laws in their favor
and reality bites like the
jaws of a gator
and the corporate, right-wing, pathetic, mainstream media tries to confound
it
when the issue at hand is thousands of votes that couldn't be cast or haven't
been counted
the combination of this and the lies meant
disenfranchisement
and its hard to be awed by how far we've come when we
are still crossing that bridge from Selma to Montgomery
with respect to these inequities
all the Supreme Court can say is too bad, so sad
and leave me hangin'
like chad
I need a reprieve and you better believe I think this
court is out of order
I'm doubting Thomas, Scalia, Rehnquist
I take issue with pre/judicial officials
because their heart is in
the partisan all out war
voting 5-4 to deprive Gore
what I saw was raw politics
putting the fix in like Nixon
with tricks in the sleeves of their black robes
to back those that lack votes
we need some citizens
for some sit-ins again
I say we all meet
on Wall Street
and lock down
lock the whole block down
I'll storm the White House right now
for real, I ain't havin' it
I'll uproot Bush and overturn the cabinet
then let's go to death row
let's close every jail in the nation, free a
whole generation plus Mumia
I'm not joking, we'll end in Oakland
with some sit-ins on the dock of the Bay
like the Doc, MLK
watching the apartheid roll away
I'm settin' precedents
the planetary poet-in-residence
call all the Justices and the President-
tell 'em Drew's comin' to get ya
no, not to hurt ya
but to give you a lecture:
you can't elect yourself
that's rule one
you're done son
so let's go
(we'll have your mom and your dad come get you in the limo)
because democracy's at a crossroads
I get down at times
I'm surrounded by hypocrisies
but I took I an oath to diagnose like
Hippocrates
and democracy's at a crossroads
of lost dreams and lost votes
drew dellinger is co-founder of the band Sweet Acidophilus
and a poet and rap artist. (397 43rd Street; Oakland, CA 94609; 510/653-4573;
email: drew@soulforce.com; Web: www.soulforce.com.) c 2001 drew dellinger
Let's Count the Votes
Written by: Edwin Johnston
Based on: Give Peace A Chance
Written by: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Additional lyrics: Sean Ono Lennon
Ev'rybody's talkin 'bout
Elections
Corrections
Directions
Connections
Cer-tif-ication
Trepidation
Race relations
Split the nation
All we are saying is let's count the votes
All we are saying is let's count the votes
C'mon
Ev'rybody's talkin 'bout
Liars
Buyers
Triers
Cryers
Civil War
Bush or Gore
Rule of law
What's it for?
All we are saying is let's count the votes
All we are saying is let's count the votes
Let me tell you now
Ev'rybody's talkin 'bout
Protest
Contest
Freakfest
No rest
Dimpled chad
Being mad
We been had
They're too glad
All we are saying is let's count the votes
All we are saying is let's count the votes
Let me hear you now
Ev'rybody's talkin 'bout
Country
Not free
Gotta be
Liberty
Fair Vote
No joke
Plain folk
Take note
All we are saying is let's count the votes
All we are saying is let's count the votes
A series of poems received via email author unknown
Ladies and Gentlemen please stand for
George W. Bush
The Right's Tarred Tangled Banana and Controlling Lethal Authority
O say, can you see, that George Bush leans to the Right,
And so grandly he'll fail and the Right's just dreaming.
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, which they like to hide behind.
The last resort of a scoundrel: Superpatriotism.
And the conservatives mad glare as their campaign bursts in air,
Gave proof that the Right, has no there there.
O say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
For our land to remain free, don't vote for that Knave.
The Battle Hymn of the Republic
My eyes have seen the Glory of the coming
of the Demagogue known as George
He raised 100 million dolluhs
So later his fatcat backers can gorge
He'll hint that blacks, the old and the poor
appear the nation's bloody scourge
His white Snoot keeps tooting on!
Personal Responsibility
That's what George will bleat to you with glee
It means if you fail you will have to make it on your own
and not get help from me.
Family Values just a cover
Hide the fact Republicans take an illicit lover
Hide your harsh mean economic policies Casanova
and spout platitudes towards John Doe
Glory Glory Hallelujah
Don't let Snorting George Bush Jr Fool Ya
Glory Glory Hallelujah
his white snoot keeps tooting on!
The Beverly Right Wing Hillbillies
Come 'n listen about a man who's brother's name is Jeb
A poor human being, barely kept the poor folks fed
And then one day, he was shootin off his mouth
And up through his brain came compassionate conservatism from the
South
Policy that is, Texas Bushwah
Well, the first thing you know, Jeb's brother needs a millionaire
Republican folk said, Jeb's brother, move away from there
Said, Californy is the place you oughta be
So they loaded up the campain bus and they moved to Beverly
Hills, that is, swimmin' pools, movie stars and campaign fundraisers.
Well, now it's time to say goodbye to Jeb's brother and all his kin
They would like to thank you folks for kindly droppin' in
You're all invited back again to this locality
To have a heapin' helpin' of their come trash n hate conservatism
Hillbilly, that is, set a spell, take your shoes off
Y'all come back now, hear?
When Georgie comes campaigning home again,
Bushwah, Bushwah!
We'll give him a hearty unwelcome then
Bushwah, Bushwah!
The men will jeer, the boys will shout,
This Georgie acts like an up and coming Kraut
And then we'll all go away
When Georgie comes campaigning home.
From: Toni Rizzo toni@mcn.org
In olden times, it could be decades before major events were cast in
verse. But The Great 2000 Election Controversy is so big that a bunch
of all-star poets have come out of retirement to quickly set the story
to rhyme.
For starters, history buff Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
Listen, my children, don't dare ignore,
The midnight actions of Bush and Gore
In early November, the year ought-ought,
Hard to believe the mess they wrought.
Two billion bucks of campaign bounty
All came down to Palm Beach County.
What result could have been horrider
Than the situation we found in Florider?
Edgar Allen Poe is his usual gloomy self:
Once upon a campaign dreary, one which left us weak and weary
O'er many a quaint and curious promise of political lore
While we nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a yapping,
As of some votes overlapping, energy-zapping to the core
'Tis a mess here,' we all muttered, as the network anchors stuttered,
Stuttered over Bush and Gore.
Could there be another election with such a case of misdirection,
One with such a weak selection, yet fraught with tension to the core?
Quoth the ravers, "Nevermore."
Britain's Edward Lear's limerick is lighter:
There once was a U.S. election
That called for some expert detection -
How thousands of pollers
Could become two-holers
Like outhouses of recollection.
Ditto Ogden Nash:
I regret to admit that all my knowledge is
What I learned at Electoral Colleges,
So tell me please, though I hate to troubya,
Will the winner be Al, or will it be Dubya?
Joyce Kilmer's a media analyst:
I thought that I would never see
The networks all so up a tree.
Walt Whitman is lyrical, as always:
O' Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip's not done
The ship has weather'd every rack, but nobody knows who's won.
Alfred Noyes rhythmically rumbles:
And still of an autumn night they say, with the White House on the
line,
When the campaign's a ghostly galleon and both candidates cry, "'Tis
mine!"
When the road is a ribbon of ballots, all within easy reach,
A highwayman comes riding, riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, and punches two holes in each.
Dr. Seuss takes a look at election officials:
I cannot count them in a box
I cannot count them with a fox
I cannot count them by computer
I will not with a Roto-Rooter
I cannot count them card-by-card
I will not 'cause it's way too hard
I cannot count them on my fingers
I will not while suspicion lingers.
I'll leave the country in a jam -
I can't count ballots, Sam-I-Am.