Thursday, November 7, 2013

Political Poetry Time at the Hoboken Jounral

I had asked the Horsey to post this on the Mile Square View ( but he was busy this morning. He might post this later on his site but for now you can hopefully enjoy my lighthearted humor at the Hoboken 2013 Election Aftermath....

'Twas the eve after the election


'Twas the eve after the election when all through the Hoboken,
The results came in and Old Guard hearts were indeed broken,
The Zimmer Team and Kids First showed the voter that they did care,
And swept the election with a civic and dignified air.

The Old Guard adversaries were constantly switching political beds,
While delusions of grandeur and relevance danced in their heads,
And Mamma Russo, son Mikey, and Terry pulled out all the stops,
But got creamed in Marine View by one hell of a cop.

When out from Timmy's HQ there arose such a clatter,
The Hoboken Police sprang from their car to see what was the matter.
Away to the campaign HQ they flew like a flash,
A disgruntled former Ramos aide was acting quite brash.

With an angry man packing heat, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Prison Guard Nick,
More vapid than a Beth Mason City Council meltdown he exclaimed,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called his enemies by name!

"Now Finboy, now Cryan, now Pupie and Timmy the putz!
On, Holmsie, On brother Matt, on lunatic Mason and the King of Mutz!
You cost Ruben the election! God damn you to hell you all!
Now street cash away! Street cash away! street cash away all!"

The repeated attempts to rig the election did not fly,
When Zimmer was met with an obstacle, she would once again try,
So in came the courier'd VBMs that smelled of a corrupt pile of sh#t,
But more or less between the old guard factions VBMs were evenly split.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing of a very happy horses' hoof,
As I drew in my head, and was laughing at the OG clowns,
I saw a prancing pony named Hoboken Horse dancing all about town.

Now Tim by quitting his day job, he shot himself in the foot,
And based on the returns his political career is now moot,
Frank Raia thought spending tons of dough would get him to political heaven,
But after all the bluster, VBMs and money he could only place position seven.

Timmay's PR chick would Twitter! Oh how she would gush!
"Timmy is the greatest, but now that he lost I'm so out but what is the rush?",
Her dainty little party girl nose was drawn up like a bow,
To drown out her sorrows with shots, Room 84 is the place to go.

Now the disgruntled Perry Belfiore was clenching his teeth,
And the smoke from his BS about Ravi encircled his head like a wreath,
He had fine silver locks of hair and a vocabulary a bit overextended,
If Ruben won his reign as Chief of Staff would not be recommended.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his big bad words,
Made me want tune out this Old Guard bloviating turd.

Re-elected Mayor Zimmer spoke a few words but went straight back to work,
The parks are being fixed, and the Monarch project may still lurk,
On taxes, quality of life, saving the HUMC to the challenge she rose,
And she said that progress will continue but will not be easy as everyone knows.

She popped up on the platform give her team a big round of thanks,
And away they all clapped and the champagne glasses clanked,
And I heard her exclaim, as she left the celebration,
"Hoboken is one of the best cities in the entire nation"

And in case you did not see my other poem the night before the election here is:

'Twas the eve of the election (first conceived 11/4/2013)


'Twas the eve of the election and all through Hoboken,
Many kleptocrats were stirring, with hearts about to be broken,
The VBMs were all gathered by courier with purported criminal flare,
In effort to unseat the mayor from her City Hall chair.

The Callichio's were fighting for each and every paid for vote,(allegedly)
They were on opposite teams but both for government bloat,
Mamma Russo in her Red Wings sweat pants, and Mike with gums ready to flap,
They were pitching their political message which was just full of crap.

When over at the HHA there arose such a clatter,
Carmelo sprang from his throne after emptying his bladder,
Away to his window he shouted out so brash,
"Watch us, we can we will, and we got developer ca$$$sh!"

The moon on the eve of a crisp fall night,
Was calming before the chaos of a big election fight,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
"Bathtub Brian" Murray selling out Hoboken to a chorus of jeers.

With a little VBM courier so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be Prison Guard Nick,
More rapid his brooding thug brother of WWE sexting fame,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Ruben! now, Mindak! now, Miani and Gonzalez!
On, Branco, On, Chadwick, err Handbag Robin! on, Liebler and fellow hangers on,
It's all about Vision 20/20 and NJ Transit skyscrapers!,
Now develop away! Develop away! Develop away all!"

And don't forget there was another campaign that quite couldn't fly,
The head of the ticket was a Mason puppet and unemployed IT tech guy,
With lots of money from Pupie and defamatory Beth Mason and a motley crew,
They gave out bags full of flier tagged candy and lots of lies too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each cloven hoof,
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Frank Pupie Raia came down with a bound.

He was dressed in a leather trench coat with a mouth full of mutz,
And his Robin-like sidekick Biacamano who was a BOE putz,
A bundle of last minute VBMs he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And he exclaimed at the top of his lungs "Zimmer, err I mean Ramos just has to go"!

The wad of cash he had in his wallet made him think he can't be beat,
What did not go to VBMs would go to the alleged highest bidder on the street,
He had a broad face and a vendetta against Ruben Ramos,
And tons of money from Mason whose scorched earth politics made her quite famous.

He was big and and sturdy, an intimidating man,
He was throwing his weight to get as many alleged VBMs as he can,
and a then a political poll indicated his campaign was dead,
Soon gave me to know I likely had nothing to dread.

He then spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the ballot boxes then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, off to the VBM shuttle bus he goes.

Post Election Day Beth Mason sprang from her limo gave to her team a whistle,
And blew out of town in defeat away like a hot pot of gristle,
But I heard her exclaim, as her limo drove the Queen of Mean out of sight,
"Damn you all to hell! With Ricky's money I'm not done with this fight!"