Wonkette
You know what was posted on Andrew Breitbart’s masterful Big Hollywood blog last Friday? Oh, nothing much, except maybe the best poem since Hamlet and The Wasteland and Jesus combined! It is about 9/11, which was the date last Friday, to be sure.
Note the descent into chaos here: the rhyme scheme starts as A B C B (this is like the World Trade Center at 7:00 a.m., structured, professional, “nothin’ to see here,” etc.); takes a turn several stanzas down into A B C kinda-B (After the first tower gets hit, things starting to unravel, “looks like some pilot’s been drinkin’, ain’t that right, Brad?”); then finally devolves into prosaic stream-of-consciousness anger-porn (Both towers hit, hysteria, “Whoa hey shit man, that’s twice now, right?”)
This is not an accident.
Honoring September 11th: We Remember [Big Hollywood]
Yeah, I’m not clicking that. But “Breitbart” rhymes with “trite fart.” If you want to know what rhymes with “Liz Hurley,” please consult your local MC Paul Barman.
my mind goes to a picture of an eagle with a single tear in its eye…
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Fuck terrorists
And fuck Chele Stanton too
If I recite that poem then the BKs in Miss will give me a free Medium Freedum Fries?
Is it a coincidence that the two “LL”’s in Hollywood look like the WTC when viewed from a certain angle?
norbizness: it’s written by a wymynz.
That poem seems to naturally fall into the cadence of “The Night Before Christmas”. Cognitive dissonance ‘r us.
You should see her sonnet sequence on the events 11 September, 1973
“I’m a poet…” she says.
Nothing says “we remember!” quite like a paragraph style listing of every job title you can possibly think of.
I hate to ridicule people whose only crime is to be insipid. Especially when there is great evil and stupidity abroad in the land.
It’s a good thing Britebart puts his name in the logo. Otherwise we’d have no idea that a big, dumb asshole is behind this internet abortion.
“As evil sought triumph
Through catastrophic strife
Towers fell and buildings crumbled
Tragically ending innocent lives”
“Unfathomable terror
Unfolded before our eyes
A day where heroes would die
And warriors… would rise.”
Anyone else up for revoking the Free Speech clause in the First Ammendment? Hands, can I see hands?
Who is this Andrew Breitbart person and why, when there is free anime, lesbian bondage porn available on the internet would I consider reading his poetry?
GreatOldOnesParty:
Chele Stanton is an actress, singer, and songwriter. Prior to moving to Los Angeles, she spent 15 plus years in music ministry performing for television, radio, concerts, and special events – everything from ministering to prisoners in San Quentin and Belarus to singing in the concert halls and opera houses of the elite. Also known as, Michele Lee Gibbons, she recorded her first CD, “In His Care,” produced by Kevin Jonas (father of the “Jo Bros.”). She later penned the song, “He Will Never Leave You,” which ended up on a CD Project reaching out to the victims’ families of the Columbine Massacre.
Having grown up as the daughter of a Marine Corps Colonel, Chele was given a great appreciation at an early age for the sacrifice and hardship military families endure. Her volunteer work to help out the McCain Presidential Campaign served to reinforce her commitment to the values of God, Family, and Country.
She currently resides in the Los Angeles area where she continues her work in the entertainment industry and is also an advocate for autism awareness.
“We remember you, our men and women in uniform, in the United States Marine Corps, the Navy, the Army, the Air Force and the Coast Guard…”
Except for the CIA. The only people who ever have really been fighting actual terrorists since BEFORE 9/11. Yeah, forget them!
Min: Yeah, but somebody has to enable or look the other way when great evil & stupidity does its business.
Wow, I thought William McGonagall was bad.
shadowMark: And?
Without even looking at it, the mere concept of a “poem” about 9/11 has “patriotic treacle” all over it.
When Heroes Fall, When Terrorists Fly,
Our Eagle Feels Sick,
You threw me out in Denver cuz
I wouldn’t s**k your d**k.
I think the ellipses in the ‘poem’ show where she took a swig of Jack.
It’s hard to write a poem about something that isn’t very rhymey.
9/11, heaven, seven… That’s pretty much it, I think.
I blame Obama.
IceCreamEmpress: Aw. I was hoping that was poetry by the Simpsons character McGarnagle.
Lawdy, I tire of 9.11 porn and and now 9.12 pron as well.
I just found out Jim Carroll died. That’s all I want to hear about poetry today. But thanks for the offer.
I like the commenters who feel it was well-written.
ManchuCandidate: For free, you welfare queen? Fat chance.
Damn you, Jim. Now all the the Womketeers are also composing really shitty poetry. Just watch this thread. You are going to be so so sorry.
Damn, I gotta take a shit. A massive, too.
There once was a “poet” named Chele
Who fancied herself quite like Shelley.
Yet her verses were terse,
Started bad, got progessively worse.
And Percy Bysshe declared her quite smelly.
Ode ode ode.
hobospacejunkie: Hey! I’m eatin’ a sandwich here! (blank verse)
queeraselvis v 2.0: See Jim, what did I tell ya.
GreatOldOnesParty: She sings in “the concert halls and opera houses of the elite.” The Wonkette is going to get more angry tweets from the elites. Again.
I finally looked at it. Even worse than Vogon poetry.
shadowMark: Why does she hate real Americans? Why will she only share her gift with teh elitz?
You make the call!
Choice 1:
An enemy attack
On the Land of the Free
How could this happen
How could this be
Choice 2:
And when the Stars threw down their spears
And water’d Heaven with their tears
Did he smile, his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Native of SL UT: Robert Penn Warren, is that you?
shadowMark: Presumably she sings to herself in the ladies’ room during intermissions.
There’s nothing so horrible
That small right-wing minds
Can’t trivialize tragedy
With second-grade rhymes.
Their morbid hack poetry
They claim speaks for the nation –
It’s ironic their platform
Is anti arts education.
Complexity and nuance
Are dismissed with finality
As though dopiness were a vaunted
Congenital abnormality.
Their world is a flat one
With a tiny diameter –
Excluding thoughts that won’t scan
in dactylic tetrameter.
And until all these lunkheads
See their simplifications are wrong
Make sure they’re strapped in the child seat
Where they rightly belong.
Nearly 2,000 innocent characters were brutally murdered by that senseless act of linguistic terrorism.
September 11, 2009: Never Couplet!
hobospacejunkie: Well McGarnagle, Billy’s dead! They slit his throat from ear to ear!
Roses are Red, Violets are blue
Lou from “Rescue Me” wrote poems like this
And his were better than you’s.
SayItWithWookies: Stop making me love you.
Jukesgrrl: damn. One more people that died…
Jukesgrrl: And also, the Ukraine has denied holy parenthood rights to apparently gay male diva Sir Elton John, another sure sign of the apocalypse. Read the bible, people!
There once was a man from 9/11
Shut up, that’s why!
norbizness: What’s a ‘thirsty valley’?
dijetlo: Hook up a second screen and get with the program, Philistine!
I wills leave the poetrying to you edumacated folks
Did they link to my rap version of the poem?
1. I don’t think grass can shatter.
2. Her poetic meter twists and buckles as problematically as steel structural girders do under high-temperature jet-fuel fires (with or without the CIA’s help).
shadowMark: I noticed that she is a “Thespian”, and I am likewise and I have never met a Christian in the entertainment business…Jews , yep we got plenty of Jews but not so many people “ministering”, we tend to fuck each other rather than minister.
And did young Stephen sicken,
And did young Stephen die?
And did the sad hearts thicken,
And did the mourners cry?
No; such was not the fate of
Young Stephen Dowling Botts;
Though sad hearts round him thicken,
‘Twas not from sickness’ shots.
No whooping cough did rack his frame,
Nor measles drear, with spots;
Not these impaired the sacred name
Of Stephen Dowling Botts.
Despised love struck not with woe
That head of curly knots,
Nor stomach troubles laid him low,
Young Stephen Dowling Botts.
O no. Then list with tearful eye,
Whilst I his fate do tell.
His soul did from this cold world fly,
By falling down a well.
They got him out and emptied him;
Alas it was too late;
His spirit was gone for to sport aloft
In the realms of the good and great.
–Mark Twain,
Ode to Stephen Dowling Botts, Drown’d in a Well.
c-sick: A single, gleaming tear rolled down its eye
For but one had the courage to say, “You lie!”
SayItWithWookies: Ooo, me framin’ this.
“Fell down on our knees
Hugged our families, friends, and strangers”
Um, Chele, if you fall down on your knees and hug families, friends, and especially strangers, I think that someone taught you to do something very naughty and told you it was a hug.
SayItWithWookies: Winner.
On a more serious note, you want poetry that DOES work? WH Auden said it all in “September 1, 1939.”
AnnieGetYourFun: Wookies is kind of a fucking show-off at this point. I’m lying. That shit was awesome.
SayItWithWookies: Final line would scan better (and sound all poetical and arty) if it were “where rightly they belong.”
V572625694: I used to teach writing at the University of Pittsburgh and I did an exercise like that in my creative writing class. The students invariably chose the bad poem and no amount of work I did throughout the year could convince them they were wrong. Their rationale? Something “easy to understand” has more value. It’s one of the top reasons I no longer teach. That, and the number of students who would write something disgustingly violent and when I would speak to them about it, they would reply, “It supposed to be funny. Don’t you get it? Where can I get it published?” That Blake, he was too lazy to put the “e” in watered, what’s up with that?
Limeylizzie: ragepotato: I have never met a Christian in the entertainment business & if you fall down on your knees and hug families, friends, and especially strangers, I think that someone taught you to do something very naughty — Maybe she is poetically saying she engages in the old style ministry of Flirty Fishing.
I think this is totally fucking great poetry, you Commie punks!
Min: You are wise beyond your years, however many they are.
Aw, thanks guys — it’s a gift. And usually comes wrapped in a bottle.
AnnieGetYourFun: You know I can’t help it, sweetie — but if I could, I wouldn’t.
magic titty: Guilty in re: “dactylic tetrameter.”
Dactylicious. Terradactylicious. Terrordactylicious.
All you need to write terrordactylicious poetry is faint memory of the night before Christmas.
Glad to see that wingnut poetry on the web also makes use of ALLCAPS. It would be a shame to see that consistent and nuanced approach neglected by Beerfart’s poetic musings.
Twas eight years after slaughter
And all through land,
Democrats were sleepin’
except one muslin in the house
This needs to be set to music NAO.
I think that rough slouching beast just made it to Bethlehem.
I had hoped that awful 9/11 poetry was no longer being composed, or at least that it was only being scribbled by rural Arkansan grandmothers onto the decorative borders of their poster-board “hero memorials.”
Maybe it’s like popcorn in the microwave. This is just one of the last kernels to go.
Chele Stanton is obviously at a low point in her entertainment career.
Mr Blifil: And crapped on the carpet as soon as they let it in. Seriously, though, thanks for sending me back to Yeats, if only for a moment.
prizepig:
Standing in 7-11,
On 9-11,
I’m sad about the folks
sent to heaven.
I was really hoping that ‘Both towers hit, hysteria, “Whoa hey shit man, that’s twice now, right?”’ was going to be an honest-to-God line in that literary shitshow. I would’ve made it worth the time it took to read a quarter of it and skim the rest before going back to Fantasy Baseball.
Insipid
Unbearable Sorrow
Chele
———
so little thought
writing
the rotten
poem
concerning
the twin towers
by the white
Chele.
I ended both poems with Chele as an artistic homage to her poetic genius. Though I bow to the master, SayItWithWookies.
Jukesgrrl: Ol’ Bill Blake, what a kidder, and so lazy to boot.
The Question Answer’d
What is it men in women do require? The Lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women in men do require? The Lineaments of Gratified Desire.
Suck it, Kanye. You can’t touch this.
Chele is a real, honest to goodness POET. Didn’t y’all see they way every line begins with a Capitalized word? Yeah…slipped that one right by your dense skulls, didn’t she. And for your information, poetry that starts off rhyming and leaves off somewhere in the middle is a stroke of genius.
There once was a man from AIPAC
Who wanted to pillage Iraq
The plane hit the tower
That gave him his power
That’s a trillion we’ll never get back
Ms Chele Stanton
Her poems are for shit.
Her sweet sweet ass
Of that I would hit.
There once was a man named George Bush
The air in his skull went whoosh! whoosh!
As the towers fell down
His face made a frown
And he thought, “I’ll just sit on my tush.”
Yeah, I know…but nothing really rhymes with Bush.
Oh Goody! Vogon Poetry! We can record it and Spain can play it to the Bushies to soften them up before the trials!
Once again Douglas Adams proves prophetic.
Miss him, I do…
Sorta like Tennyson, but different.
V572625694: If Lady Caroline Lamb had received a shiny award, do you think Byron would have lurched drunkenly to the stage to claim Augusta Leigh had been robbed? I vote yes.
And yet the mystery persists, why the culture that produced this latter-day Emily Dickinson can’t get Hollyweird to invest billions in its epics.
There once was a woman named Gibbons,
Whose wit had been sliced all to ribbons,
Her pseudonym, ‘Chele’,
Made her no second Shelley,
Just a godawful hack that shouldn’t be allowed within spitting distance of a worn out pencil stub, on pain of having her own poetry read to her for days on end while she’s deprived of sleep and forced to remain in stress positions like a bunch of random unshaven Muslims mistakenly apprehended by the kind of blood-frenzied mini-Himmlers who were both empowered by, and themselves, the type of historically and literarily pig-ignorant philistines who read such decayed offal of verbiage as this and sniffle despite themselves, awed by the talent that could produce it and touched to the puny withered core of their castrated hearts.
Oh, god, that idiot Chele actually wrote more than one thing! Sweet Jeebus, is she ever a terrible writer. I don’t expect much more from a site like that, but…
CthuNHu: Brills.
shadowMark: She later penned the song, “He Will Never Leave You,” which ended up on a CD Project reaching out to the victims’ families of the Columbine Massacre.
My jaw is still on the floor. This woman has somehow managed to make a career…a CAREER…out of penning post-senseless violence tragedy verse. I mean, how do you DO that?
And singing to convicts in the Belarusian big house? Was her closing number a Chernobyl tribute…”The True Meaning of Half-Life”?? Gaaah!
Soul sadly astray
Bereft of understanding
Yet — I would hit that.
History shall ne’r survey
A poem inelegant as this
Placed online by Breitbart, A.
Stop reading it, then piss.
Whats up Brietbart. Just wanted to let you know this is probably the crappiest poem I have ever read, and that you huff unimaginable amounts of dong. My only question aside from how you sleep at night is how many red-state tragedy-boners you induced with this horrible abortion of a blog post. The majority of New Yorkers and DC residents are dirty liberals by the way.
kewlguy42069: I think you meant
HOWLLYWOOD
For Andrew Brietbart
I
Chele Stanton saw the birthers of red state nation being destroyed by
dirty liberals, Breitbart huffing unimaginable amounts of dong,
reading the crappiest poem through internet tubes at dawn
inducing tragedy-boners,
sleepy headed blog abortionist burning for the sweet fix of
platititudes and lolling starry eyed at the magnificent
blog post/poem, assuring that this was good.
Why do today’s amateur writers have so much trouble writing doggerel that rhymes and scans? English has a bazillion butt-tons of words. All you have to do is fiddle with it a little, and it reads like crap Victorian poetry, instead of like white, fraternity-skit rap lyrics. Are they lazy, stupid, or just so lacking in aesthetic feeling that they can’t HEAR rhyme and rhythm?
Who wrote:
“I’m waiting for your poems about Pearl Harbor and D-Day. OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN? ”
Because it touched my heart.
Does anyone else remember folding $20, $50, and $100 bills so the backs showed the various stages of the Twin Towers’ collapse?
It was like a Dan Brown novel printed on our US papermoney.
This, of course, was back when the good people of American actually still owned $20, $50, and $100 bills…
Yeah, but is it better than Footprints?
Jebus on a cracker that fucking abomination actually sounds like the Night Before Christmas
Let’s see if I can do worse:
And me in my kerheff
my wife in her boot
The one’s with the spike heels
Her muff in my snoot
Arose with a start
my hard on still standing
rolled out of the mattress
on floor we did landing
When out of the clouds
came silver jet-planing
Osama bin Laden
and Abdul Insaning
Come Infidel,Jihad,
come towers a-crash
I dove for my whiskey
got totally smashed
The Teevee shrieked babbling
panic and fright
Only Bush to protect me
and to all a good night
We are soooooo fucked
That’s pretty bad but the original is still worse
I would like someone to please turn this “poem” into a velvet painting or one of those home craft stitching pillows. That would be worth framing.
Lazy Media: Poemtry be hard.
Strongy O: And the USS Maine?!
What of the MAINE, Chelle?!
Nevar forget, indeed.
My 11 year old laughed out loud at the sheer horrible-ness of that poem. Then we laughed even harder at the Wonketteer comments at the end. Which one of you was Osama Bin Laden?! And did “Bryan” who said “Thank you for so perfectly trivializing 9/11″ have a typo or was that snark?!
do you think ‘chele’ even has any idea? sorry, can’t help it:
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! - An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
ladymacbeth: No, I don’t think she has any idea. I don’t want to sound cynical but I bet she couldn’t even match up yours or this with the appropriate wars.
From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.
Knock knock.
Who’s there?
9/11.
9/11 who?
YOU SAID YOU’D NEVER FORGET!
It would have been better if it had been written by that South Carolina cum slut lady.
I’ll take your word for it, Jim.
I ain’t goin’ there.
No.
No. No.
No. No. NO. No.
No.
No. No. No. No.
No. No. No. No
Nah.
Poetry for(and from)Dumm(y)ies:
THE MSM IS NEVER TO HEAR PALIN’S HONK KONG SPEECH
NO MATTER HOW MUCH IT MIGHT NOT WANT TO
Awhile ago
A few months ago,
At least some boring
CLSA group consulting
To speak and come
In Hong Kong at some
Annual conference,
Invited Sarah Palin.
Interesting, this was only,
In so much as Sarah Palin
To cancel, was inevitability going
To, so naturally.
About the fact that happening, this was even,
Everyone forgot, because what even
At this point, Palin Sarah is?
Well, guess about it now!
Now it is time to UNFORGET
Because CLSA would like
The MSM to know that this will be a secret,
A speech about secret,
On things that will not on the Internet,
Be leaked at all, so everyone should just
Go ahead and about reforget.
At this point, said CLSA spokesperson,
And future plaintiff, Wheeler Simone,
In what is sure to be
A comical breach of contract suit against Palin
Even trying to report on,
The topic of Sarah Palin,
We are not disclosing.
Where’s my Nobel?
Towers go boom, boom
Let’s start a war in Iraq
Re-elect George Bush!
SayItWithWookies: SayIt, seriously, dude, what are you trained in? What is your profession? What are your loves? The Wonketrotti/Wonkettry wants to know.
Extemporanus: “Nearly 2,000 innocent characters were brutally murdered by that senseless act of linguistic terrorism.
September 11, 2009: Never Couplet!
BWHAHAHA!
Chele Stanton
Fly up and fly high!
Her words, she thought soared;
Yet when they hit paper,
They fell to the floor.
Fly up and fly high!
She demands more and more;
Yet when fingers hit keys,
They were hollowed, then gored.
Fly up and fly high!
Said banshee, now shrieking;
Yet try as she might,
Their impact kept shrinking.
Defeated, she quit and later resigned,
Poetry, alas, had curddled her conservative mind.
This is Just to Say
I have leveled
the towers
that were in
Manhattan
and which
you were probably
hoping would stay
standing
Forgive me
they were impressive
so tall
and so burny