The Poetry of Dick Cheney

For the safety and security of the person(s) involved, I cannot reveal how these authenticated pages of The Poetry of Dick Cheney came into my possession.

These poems were scribbled in the pages of a handsome, leather-bound, oiled Moleskine Journal.

I am reproducing some of the poems here to offer insight into the mind of the man who many call "The Dark Lord." Please leave your reactions and comments, below.

Thank you.

Beauty

Halle Berry, Halli Burton.
Both
are fine
by me.

Dumbfuck

George, the fool,
Makes his old man look like a genius,
And he was a tool,
too.

My Ticker

It stops,
It starts,
I flops,
I farts,
I wish I had,
Two hearts!

A back-up ticker,
That wouldn't flicker,
When the first one quits.

It thumps,
It skips,
Me rumps,
Me hips,
They hit the floor,
Me pants splits.

A back-up ticker,
A constant clicker,
When the first one quits.

In fits,
And starts,
It spits,
It darts,
I wish I had,
Two hearts.

A back-up ticker,
A steady kicker,
When the first one quits.

Shoot the Damn Thing!

Hunting with Scalia,
My prostate acting up,
"I got to go pee-a!"
He says, "Use a cup."

Just then the geese emerge,
From `neath the hazy gauze,
Me, with little Dickie in hand,
While a bead, Salia draws.

"Shoot the damn thing," I shout!
Unable to squeeze out a drop,
While Scalia pulls his trigger,
And his gun lets out a "POP!"

"Goddamn it," Tony bellows,
"You made me miss my shot!"
"My prostate," I explain,
"Urinate, it will not."

Green

It's money I love,
More than my wife,
More than torture,
(Almost) more than life.

Not just for me,
But for my homies,
In the parlance of the press,
My "Halliburton cronies."

If I could still get hard,
And money was a hole,
I hit it every chance,
With my little Dickie pole.

I know that must sound sick,
But you may fail to comprehend,
That power comes from money,
It sends me `round the bend.

Uz Beck and Call?

I admire the Uzbeck way of extracting,
Teeth,
Fingernails,
Information.

I have more of Dick Cheney's poetry that I may add to this post as time permits.

Thank you for reading. I hope this has given you new insight into the soul (as it is) of our Vice President.

JUST ADDED: Additional selections from Mr. Cheney's notebook:

Max Protect

In my bunker,
See me hunker,
Down, down, down.

Me and Rummy,
No George -- dummy,
Clown, clown, clown.

From this hideout,
Wielding my clout,
In a long, black gown.

Rummy-O
Rummy-O, Rummy-O,
Wherefore art thou, Rummy-O?

Sneer

Some say it's perpetual,
My anti-intellectual,
Sneer.

Some call it a smirk,
And claim I'm a jerk,
Sneer.

I have a reply,
A one finger "Goodbye,"
Sneer.

Go fuck yourself.

I will add further selections as time permits...