Jack, Jill and the dirty oil spill. My Poem - ENJOY!

A semi-rant poem, or should I say semi-poetic rant...anyway. Enjoy.I thought the forum needed something humorous to read. I would also love to read fellow ATS members poems in response, concerning the oil spill. Could be a very fun thread. Im looking forward to it.

Cutting costs, cutting corners, saving face, saving money, circus antics!

Oil spill, dollar bill, Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. As Jack came down to water the town, a smell came lingering after. He looked at the water, and uglier than his daughter was the sight of nautical slaughter.
"Slimy sludge, browner than fudge, ill hold my grudge against the judge who contaminated our only supply of fresh water!" said Jack, with his back turned to mercy.

Blinded by fury, his thirst for water soon turned to blood. "There's no land to farm with oil in my mud, there's no water to drink because there's oil in that too, and soon there shall be crude in our food! As he turned to Jill asking "what shall we do", he slipped on the oil which was now passing through. As Jack fell down, he was swept into the town, where the economy came tumbling too.

As the market went crash, contact with oil soon turned to rash, and the whole town became inflamed. Their fury ignited the oil, raising the town to the soil, and ash. Robbed of their land, water and cash, everyone wanted a scapegoat to bash.

When the man from the company came, he invited a lonesome dame, to observe their nerve in a devious swerve past justice and due reparations.. they called it pony and ballooning.

Her anger grew but only coolness came through to the ignorant man in deep blue horizon jack blackery smack crackery overalls. Envisioning the gimp mask to go with his "hippy pimp" flask engraved a gold "BP", she managed to raise a smile by thinking of his squirm, under the brutality of a sperm whale rape dream.... he would be providing the lubricant... she thought, bringing a satisfying conclusion to the anal intrusion, left wondering only who would enjoy it more, her or the whale... or him!?

Understanding her grin, his patience ran thin so to the well they hastily proceeded. With a strange must in the air and a stickiness in her hair, she fled the scene in despair. Ill poison a pear, feed you to a bear so your intestines will tear, leave your arse numb then throw you into an octopuses lair, let it suck your face off, then let the face of the Earth suck in your greed and all the oil that spilt out because of it, like a giant zip that explodes with puss in an eruption of adolescent primal lust and greed garnished by vanity, not knowing the insanity of such a reckless act. Scars will form. Immaturity lingers in the air now more than anything for Jill. Enough of this drill, i have a family to feed, but i hope you succeed in your genocidal deed, if thats what you need to satisfy your greed. I would've tried to plead, but clocked your breed, now i know my need, tis sinister indeed.

Drilled by greed, with pockets to feed the well had a smell like the arse cheecks of hell.. according to the fish (reincarnated evil ones... like ... the angler fish...)

but the oil was never cleaned off their land and both jack and jill had to move to another town where Jack could make and break another crown, reorder his botox perma-frown, so that all his visitors never suspected the sincerity injections from under his gown were infact the source of his seemingly endless passion to tell the tale of his close encounter with the slippery kind. But truth be told, his heart grew cold as as nothing could sooth the nostalgia of his old lovely coastal town.

...the end...i guess, it ran dry, but so have my tear ducts and therefore inspiration for this poem. sorry. but thats the truth. Jah bless.

DizzyDayDreamingfromtheintoxicantodorofgreedinthewind.

Roses are red, violets are blue, the ocean is dead, no one has a clue

Sickety slickery subdued trickery literally disgusting the level of stupidity, the cracks in the well that draw blackwater from hell, leaves no story to tell, besides the oil laden shells, the frustration of the crustaceons is penetrating my "illustration, of life" has been pervaded, invaded, and castrated, sterilized with peroxide my nerve endings evaded, because my pain grows, like the gulf shows ,we humans dont know, and wont be told, generations of sold souls ,went to untold men in black robes, who broke vows in silence which they said out loud, forgive them father they know not how, these inbred, deadred, dogdead, mislead, and switched beds, Our back bone is our best friend, relief-well, well, relief would be swell ,forgive me for not buying what they sell, something smells,

And its not the COREXIT

Edit to add a few more comma's

[edit on 20-8-2010 by Mike Stivic]

I also wanted to add, i think this was a great idea, thanks for the thread. Mods are probably discussing if they should leave it here or move it to collaberative writing forum, but i wont pretend to be privy to the inner workings of this great website.

Thanks again

~meathead