Best Congressman Poems
Just a Little Bit Free
I feel that I need to get out
to walk by the oak and pine trees
breathe fresh air and. see young creatures
climb pines and fences — roam all about
I feel the need to have the sun
warm my bones, my tendons my veins
I want to hear people laugh and
walk with their dogs out to the park
throw balls have picnics have fun
I want to say hello and talk
For I know they have been polite
watching me now for 2 years
trips to doctors, to surgery with a cap
and thin hair, with a cane taking walks
They ask me how I am
and I smile and say good
now a year later they appear
to believe me, a large breath escapes
now its only every 4 months I go for an exam
Still the doctors tell me to be careful
to stay away from children with
their sneezes and coughs
A lonely prescription, but
I do have my dogs
Another MRI and dyes injected
another Congressman gone from
the same disease, so sad but his was a 4
and I am a stage 3. still every
blood lab is collected, every cell inspected
This weekend we hope to see
a play under the pine trees
I will get tired and my bones and spine
will ache, my brain will need a quiet rest
Cancer of the brain is not
an easy thing to fight off, its tough, unkind
though now it could be a year or possibly more
the chemo/radiation is cruel, but for this month
I feel good enough to allow me to be
just a little bit alive —a little bit free
I heard Congress was spending money like a drunken sailor
And I thought this was disrespectful
Congress spends like they are obsessed
For the future they’re neglectful
It’s disrespectful to drunken sailors
It is totally wrong what they say
Drunken sailors never spent
Assuming their grandchildren would pay
I was once a drunken sailor
And you know what’s really funny
I always stopped spending
Whenever I ran out of money
Congress are elitist bastards
So let this story be known
When drunken sailors spent that money
They only spent their own.
Congress has no conscience
Part of the political machines
They can spell INTEGRITY
But they don’t know what it means
I’d rather be a drunken sailor
And spend only what I amass
Than to spend it like a congressman
And be a horse’s (OH!! You know what I mean)
BMC Vince Suzadail Jr USNR-Ret.
When the majority is accustomed to having their say,
it's a shock to the system when it's no longer that way
Dwindling numbers has turned the majority into the minority
Welcome to my world,
where having your voice heard is an exercise in futility
Go grab a megaphone,
or dial some digits
See if you catch your congressman or woman
and tell them something's horribly wrong
The deal is this:
You were the majority,
now you're the minority
The numbers tell the story,
and numbers never lie
I know it's a shock to the system:
Either rage against the machine,
or sit at home and quietly cry
You found a nice piece of real estate,
and were the prime time share owners for a long time
Deal with it,
a new group has come in,
and their numbers are not on the decline
It has to be a shock to the system,
has you feeling like you're Frankenstein
911 is the number you call,
when you think you've witnessed a monstrous crime
Welcome to my world,
being a minority ain't all bad
But if you're use to being number one:
it's a shock to the system,
when you've been demoted to second class
In San Francisco, he started his crusade
to teach the word of God and all good He made.
His followers, even though penurious,
gave him all they had; they were oblivious.
He taught them how to atone for sins and pray.
To a much better life, Jones would show the way.
To South America, they followed Jim down.
In the thick hot jungle, they built their Jonestown.
Soon, there was no love, peace, and no sanctity.
Instead, there was pain, deceit, and cruelty.
A California congressman arrived there
to alleviate the relatives’ despair.
However, his findings would not be revealed.
He and his party met their deaths on the field.
Jones tested his children’s loyalty later.
By drinking poison, they met their Creator
Ubiquitous death with not a single sound;
over nine hundred lifeless bodies were found!
He was once a shepherd purveying God’s grace,
leading most of his flock to death and disgrace.
The Vietnam War came immediately into my mind
And how sad it was, because so many young men died
They were innocent, many between eighteen and twenty
The rest of us lost our innocence too as they were returned
in flag-draped coffins.
I was a teenager when I became aware of the Vietnam War
My boyfriend had to sign up for the draft; there was no choice
Unless you had a congressman or a senator in your family.
It was a sad time. Folk music was slow and dreamy.
We were talking about flower power, wearing bell bottoms.
The hippies developed as a protest against the establishment.
We were singing folk songs that reflected our sadness.
Where have all the flowers gone to me represented our innocence.
We were never innocent again after the Viet Nam War.
A football star with super speed,
Our prom king, Kyle, has gone to seed.
No longer likely to succeed,
He's out of work and hooked on weed.
Behind you's Jennifer, the one
Who led our cheers and planned our fun.
Most popular, with honors won,
She's sheriff now and totes a gun.
And over there is rotten Chad,
Once cocky jock, now deadbeat dad.
He bullied me and so I'm glad
That his investments turned out bad.
Well, here comes Sue, who was so shy
She never even kissed a guy.
She's since helped seven husbands die,
But always has an alibi.
A wit and prankster of renown
Who backwards wore his cap and gown,
Was Jason there, our class's clown.
The best mortician now in town.
A teenage tramp in scanty dress,
Yvonne no morals did possess.
She'd cheat and lie, so who would guess
She'd be a judge and great success.
Poor Adam there has gone to pot,
His hopes of being doctor shot.
Divorced and now a lonely sot,
The saddest of this sorry lot.
Remember curly-headed Clay,
The eagle scout and closet gay?
He's quarterback for Tampa Bay,
Is out, and wears a full toupee.
Poor Brook, our class's beauty queen,
Who prompted thoughts in boys unclean.
She's gone from slender sweet sixteen
To hugest hips you've ever seen.
And look at Zack, the puny nerd
With build and beak just like a bird.
Once too afraid to say a word,
He's now a billionaire, I've heard.
A romeo, Jake had his fun.
Most every girl he knew, he'd done.
Now congressman in Washington,
His votes are screwing everyone.
There's Beth, who boys refused to date.
Alone for years, she married late.
Her husband left a vast estate.
That hunk she's with is twenty-eight.
Example of the alpha male
Who knew not how it felt to fail,
My buddy, Ethan, went to Yale.
But he's not here 'cause he's in jail.
I view this wreckage with dismay,
This gathering of youth decay.
For one exception, look this way.
I haven't aged a single day.
At dinner one night in Washington
Two politicians were perusing the menu,
Knowing his friend was not seeking
Re-election, he idly asked "what board
Of director-ships are you considering"
The veteran congressman replied...
"The pork is delicious!"
I think Wellstone would
Have agreed what
What my Dad would always say...
"Many are called, but few are chosen"
10/30/13
Barking dog, siren, and boom box
Are among the top voter squawks
There's no solution
To noise pollution
But your Congressman says money talks!
I can't join the military for my disabilities won't let me,but I can help free
up some of the pain by advocateing for the veterans rights and help people to welcome
them home honorably.
I can't play pro basketball or football or even hockey for that matter but I
can valiantly be their biggest fan and cheer them on to victories;oh yeah I can play a mean
game of wheelchair basketball.
But hey Mom, Dad, community "Are you still happy and proud of me?
I may not me able to be the next US President,congressman or congress-
woman,but hey I may be your senator or town mayor fighting for your equal rights.
I may not be able to stand and say the pledge of alligence like everyone else
But I'll be proudly front and center the first to remove my hat and speaking the
allegence with my hands as fast as they'll go.
But hey Mom,Dad, and community are you still happy and proud of me now!
I may not be in the world olympics skiing and skateing,what such but I am
first place in bowling, swimming and I may be slow but its all for Special Olympics,
we really have some time on our hands do you want to talk some more,or just give
a chance.
Again I ask hey Mom, Dad, community, really still proud of me now.
Shots served by Anthony’s Weiner
Are wrong and reflect bad demeanor
These tweets indiscrete
His wife Uma did cheat
And she'll take him to the cleaner
Author's note: My wife and I were talking about the fact that the congressman needs to feel
as though he is loved by many women. This is likely because he suffers from low self
esteem. A problem from childhood that was never addressed--just undressed.
There once was a congressman named Weiner
Suspected of exposing his 'wiener'
Of course he claimed no knowledge
Oh yeah! Claimed girl in college
He could be charged with a misdemeanor
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The seventh day of week and month
in seventh month of the year,
number seven dominated
when I decided to appear.
I was seventh in my family,
five brothers, Mother and Dad,
also the seventh granddaughter
each of my grandmas had.
When later, two more children came,
I then was one of seven;
unless you count the baby
who went right straight to Heaven.
My seventh nephew came along,
you guessed it, on my birthday.
Seventh day of seventh month
and seventh in his family.
He was one of seven children raised
in his family and then
he became a Professor of Economics
and a US Congressman.
In nineteen forty one I wed
in the seventh month of the same year
that a seventh of December strike
filled our young hearts with fear.
We'd been married twenty-one years,
a multiple of seven,
when God decided to take home
loved husband He had given.
He died the 4th of seventh month;
was buried on seventh day,
the anniversary of my birth.
It was a sad birthday.
He didn't live to see the seven
grandchildren who are mine.
He'd be amused to know how sevens
are still keeping me in line.
My niece's seventh grandchild came
in two thousand and one;
born on my birthday, seven-seven.
Number seven is not done.
I've had my share of ups and downs,
perhaps my seven's power
alternates from good to bad
and changes every hour.
I'm tryin to keep track of all
the sevens that I own.
Perhaps I'll die on one, if so
please mark it on my stone.
Magical Mystical Numbers contest sponsored by Deborah Guzzi 5th place
I was a boy not quit seventeen,
I enlisted when I was sixteen…
Wanting to serve my country…
I had no family it was just
my sister and me…
My mother had died, when
I was very young, new family
adopted me…
My sister was also adopted,
by another family…
As you can see, it was just
my sister and me…
It wasn’t long before my adopted
family, first my new father died
then my new mother, followed him…
She missed him so much, for
she had a broken heart,
that wouldn’t mend …
I went to war as a little boy,
came home a man…
As you see I was just sixteen…
The time was at “Chaute Thierry”,
doing world war one…
As a young man I thought we won…
Standing behind a cannon as
it was fired, shell casing discharging
from the breach, sent hot shrapnel
and pain into my foot…
Sent me to hospital where I
laid in pain, until they treated me,
sent me home, with crippled foot,
shrapnel of imbedded in my foot,
as well as the pain in my foot…
I’ve never been able NOT to work,
even though I have shrapnel
in my foot, walk with a limp, and
have pain in my foot everyday…
Now you can see, that it didn’t
keep me from work…
Though I was wounded during
war, no purple heart was given
this boy a young soldier…
Wasn’t until my son wrote our
Congressman, explaining what had
happen, and what hadn’t been done…
Took over fifty years, but I got my
purple heart, thanks to my son for
what he done…
I would have gone to my grave,
for I wouldn’t have said anything,
as I hadn’t for years, for I thought it
was their job, to recognize what I
had done…
My family was proud, of what I’d
done, but I feel, that they were more
proud of me now…
Only told my story a few times,
mostly to a few close friends, and my
children, for it was part of history…
Now you know my story, the young
soldier, just boy…
By Sandra L. Hoban
©2006
This poem was written and dedicated to my father who served as an infantry soldier during World War I. This is also dedicated to all those who have served our country and was wounded or lost there life while serving, not just World War I but all wars, conflicts and military police actions.
Don't go calling baby-boomers no heroes
Our legacy won't be much above zero
What GRAND contributions we've made
We blessed you with cocaine and aids!
All pop wanted when he survived the war
Was a quaint little family of four
But reality busted their bubble
What they got was truck-load a' trouble
We grew up too coddled and cozy
Running rings around po' little Rosie
Whatcha' get for paid college tuition?
A spoiled brat who can't do addition
Staging sit-ins to protect the masses
With pillows for tender little asses
No Vietnam or bust for THIS Joe
(My congressman will intervene, you know)
So go stuff your damn draft notice order!
(Later dude, gotta' run for the border)
Welcome back Sarge, here's your homecoming prize
How 'bout the finger and spit in both eyes?
We stand PROUD may God bless our sweet flag!
(You SALUTING?? Good lord what a drag!)
How we LABORED to set the world free!
Hey, wanna' check out my new SUV?
***Vietnam was of course a tragic mistake and there were many injustices during those times...However many of the protesters and draft dodgers were privileged, insulated rich kids who had no clue about the real world...The ultimate insult was Jane Fonda's visit to North Vietnam in 1972, where she proudly posed on an enemy anti-aircraft gun while POW's were being tortured practically next door..One of those POW's was Senator John McCain who was offered release but refused because those imprisoned earlier were not offered the same...now THAT'S what I'd call a Baby Boomer hero!
To her very small credit, 'Hanoi Jane' later apologized calling her visit a mistake and a betrayal to the troops...ditto to you, Ms. Fondue....
Our oceans and rivers, once so limpid,
have become huge dumps
for industries and sewages,
doesn't the stench make anyone sick?
Blame your inactive Congressman
for not halting the daily, illegal dumping;
do you propose an urgent ban,
or walk straight into the snare, not fretting?
Take a short walk on the beach at any hour; spot
golden trout, bluefish and shellfish dying from pollution,
writhing on the sand...this is their graveyard?
Are we an advanced civilization without any intuition?
Seabirds may be the lucky ones for instance,
to find easy food, but they might also be at risk
from the poison that's killing every kind of fish;
and how can people pass by them and still glance?
If I were running for Governor of my beautiful state,
I would stop this madness, although some may be outraged;
should I watch pollution ruin the environment and wait?
If corruption has prevailed, woe to anyone not heeding my word!