A Glib Giddy Ghoul / Goldwater's Girl
(Venimus. Vidimus. Et Mortuus Est)
"We came. We saw. He died," she cackled,
This chicken hen hawking her bile,
Amused at the bleeding and shackled
Gaddafi upon whom would pile
Jihadists with red hatred spackled,
And all so Dame Clinton could smile.
On hearing of Gaddafi's savage murder
She smiled and joked: "We came. We saw. He died."
Apparently, she thought that those who heard her
Would share her chickenhenish war-slut pride.
She campaigned in her youth for Bomber Barry
Goldwater, who from Arizona came;
Who made his money ripping off the natives
On reservations where he staked his claim.
Our You-Know-Her worked hard for Bomber Barry
Who swore that if elected he would kill
Vietnamese who found us less than scary
In numbers that would break their iron will.
A pantsuit with no principles or vision
Just raw ambition: naked, stark, and vain.
If peace might happen, war is her decision.
Goldwater's Girl is just a John McCain.
Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright 2015