Michele Bachmann (Mn-6) Poem by James McLain

When everything is good and it has disappeared in war.
And the earth was universal with wants of world peace.
Reparations labels and chips like him a bible trumpet.
Hurricane preparation dead babies must go some where.
Your husband consumed the concept of time years went.
Stopping by in order to rejoice in nothing but the same,
lost principles and found utopias is it not?
I came not because of you the reverse is unknown here I am.
Insanity is not the reason, the poet speaks to the philosopher.
The predicator and the theology of each person it surrounds.
And which ever book, you never answering is in it searched.
The pretty face of The, Sara Palin at least she shows it.
Breast pumps and the dawn which does not grimace,
which grimaces it is suckled awake the other night.
There was a bit there once where something you like,
of it pressed me just to trust so is shy.
When I come I stand clear of Republicanism normal and boring.
Putting out the false voice of which you would have me speak.
So President Obama and Michele win one more.
To think that power cannot abolish whom ever comes next.
Because he is black and you remind me of Catherine Harris.