Quoth the Maverick... "Vote Four More!"

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a long and arduous speeches by forgotten bores,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a clapping,
As if some great crowd of rednecks rapping, rapping ‘pon convention floor.
`’Tis some rookie,’ I muttered, `frapping upon the political door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September,
And each Republican member wrought such glee upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my blogs surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the long and unjust war -
For the long misguided battles of the ill-planned Iraq War -
Nameless here for evermore.

And with silken sad uncertain expectorate of each purple electorate
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis but a few crazed fundamentals, leaping round about the floor -
A small band of misguided, fearful souls, clamoring for war; -
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew heavy; demanding then to levy,
To the T.V. said I, `Hey Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so raucously you came rapping,
And so haughtily you came flapping, yapping ‘pon arena floor,
That I scarce could quite believe you, as you threatened cursed and swore”
Anger and fear, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no American e’er dared dream since ‘04
But the anger was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the hollered word, `Traitore!’
This I whispered out an echo, a murmur of shock, to repeat, `Traitore?’
Merely this, then… so much more.

To and fro the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a yapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `it’s just one man shouting loud, not the feeling of the crowd;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this ugliness explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this viciousness explore” -
‘There on Youtube I saw much… so much more!

Open here I flung five browsers, when, with a saggy suit and trousers,
In there burst a stately maverick of the mavericky days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; but with a curse and grunt dismayed me;
And, with disrespect for ladies, galloped through my chamber door -
He trod upon my photos from Dallas now strewn about the floor -
Whinnied and bucked and nothing more.

Then this white haired steed beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern grimmace ‘pon the countenance he wore,
`Though thy reappearance seems like magic, thou,’ I said, `art sure so tragic.
Ghastly grim and ancient maverick wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Republican’s oily shore!’
Quoth the Maverick, `Vote Four More!’

Much I marveled this ungainly equine to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was cursed with seeing such a horse bust through his door -
Horse or beast with foul hot grunts, busted through the door,
With such a name as `Vote Four More.’

The maverick strutted around, but spoke only as to confound,
That one phrase, as if his soul in those words he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – at least none that really mattered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have been duped before -
But on election day we shall heave thee!” and my hopes rose as before.’
Then the horse bayed, `Vote Four More.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so curtly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some Rovian master whom ugly perverse disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one Party bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that resentment burden bore
Of “Oh! Just four, please… Vote FOUR more.”‘

But the maverick still was huffing all my sad soul into sloughing,
Straight I dragged my Lay-Z-Boy in front of steed and busted door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to thinking
Dread unto fear, thinking what is this ominous horse of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gruff, and ominous beast of yore
Meant in croaking `Vote Four More!’

This I sat engaged in guessing, with one syllable expressing
To the old hack whose foggy eyes now burned to my cranium’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head in pain reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining as the TV’s screechy Siren gloated o’er,
Words voiced like whistling missiles from the TV gloating o’er,
She shall meet the press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew harder, perfumed from an unseen farter
Swung by ancient Eohippus whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy GOP hath lent thee – the jaded hacks hath spent thee
Respite – relent – and repent thee, you sold out who you were before!
Quaff and gamble! Go and spend free, and I’ll bill you for the door!’
Quoth the maverick, `Vote Four More.’

`Maverick?’ scoffed I, `a deal of evil! – A Faustian pact made with a devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether temper tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, from the desert land enchanted -
On this trail of horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore -
You are President Bush – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Vote Four More.’

`Country First?!’ laughed I, `What baloney! – the “maverick” is a phoney!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, what were you thinking with Sarah Palin?
She’s indeed a sainted maiden, yet one whom most of us deplore -
Why clasp to this odd yet radiant coquette, with whom the mob screams out for gore?
Quoth the maverick, `Vote Four More.’

`Be those words our sign of parting, horse or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Republican’ oily shore!
Leave no horse hair as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my nice new door all broken! – get thy hooves right off my floor!
Take thy hoof from out my heart, and take thy form right out my door!’
Quoth the maverick, `Vote Four More.’

And the maverick, never budging, still is pacing, still begrudging
Upon my vacation pics from Dallas, still strewn about my floor;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a war hawk’s that is dreaming,
And the TV vamp sounding o’er him screaming arrows more and more;
For my vote, cast from that shadow, for which they so implore,
Again he begs me – “Vote Four More”!

Vote Four More???

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