The Saga of One Twelve — a poem

They came into town, citizens of renown
In a time of deep distress
Fearless they threw themselves in the stew
The one-hundred and twelfth Congress

congress, poem, poetryThe nation was torn, feeling forlorn
The economy in a swoon
Jobs fast were agoin’, the deficit agrowin’
Fix it now the popular tune

So every faction sprang into action
To find the best resolution
Make government lean, tax those of means
Or fall into dissolution

But Tea Partiers reigned, so comity waned
The Senate filled with bluster
Far, far to the right, and geared for a fight
Their weapon: the stealth filibuster

O’er in the House, more reasons to grouse
The air leaden with crimes
The majority dared to repeal ‘bamacare
Not once, but forty-three times

Beleagured John Boehner went ever insaner
The Right now in full revolt
No tax would they heed, whatever the need
Their new title: the party of dolts

So the rabble got pissed, ideologues got dissed
Many even were slandered
But it was well writ, reps cared not one wit
‘Cause their districts were all gerrymandered

Then darkness descended like the world had just ended
The debt ceiling now held hostage
The line Congress toed, kick the can down the road
Just like the proverbial ostrich

With heads in the sand, their efforts got panned
Fiscal cliff an unwieldy creation
Another year dickering, led to more bickering
No whiff of legislative elation

At the end of their term, no more could they squirm
Out of sworn obligations
So a bad deal was done, which ended their run
But not bombastic orations

The country exhausted, their senses accosted
By two years of the obscene
They went to the polls, held tightly their nose
And ushered in one hundred thirteen

Rick Blum