Posts Tagged ‘Politics’

At the centre of that distant empire,
Stands a citadel of a republic,
Clad in the angelic light of lady liberty,
The alleged disenfranchised of the nation,
They storm once ivory steps,
Led astray by conspiracy and bigotry,
Delusion turned into a destructive force,

Each step taken is a blow to democracy,
Each a bruise upon uncle sam,
These fools climb against their own nation,
Holding aloft standards bearing the name of a tyrant,
Red white and blue stained with filth,
A statue somewhere weeps,
Holding a flame growing dim,

A grim reminder of more barbaric times,
Across the world,
All eyes rest on the capitol,
An icon of justice defiled by hate,
And upon those steps once alabaster.

When sides are to be taken,
Political discourse disasters,
Or misunderstandings in partnerships,
Do we consider the other position?
Their feelings and humanity,
Is an opposite number still only a foe?

Is common ground a fictional nirvana?
Must a debate end in bloodshed?
Fingers in eyes and hair torn,
Noses and faces cut to make a point,
Hearts pierced with vocal convictions,
Potential friends lost in a tirade,

When disagreements are had,
The senate floor taken,
Must we destroy the contender utterly?
Can no knowledge be thrust bilaterally?
After all when all both sides offer is contention,
The entire world learns nothing,

Both sides can be devils.

Love thy neighbour,
Love each of your fellow earthly souls,
For better or worse,
Love thy killer,
Adore your murderer,
Commandments from deity and party leader,

Love your killer,
For he is just a mentally sick man,
Maiming rodents since his youth,

Love your killer,
For they believed you a traitor,
Extremist news outlets,

Love your killer,
For she only opened fire in fear,
You came close with the wrong skin,

Love your killer,
For he was merely following orders,
Fearing for his own kin,

Even as the knife twists,
Even as the wound coagulates,
Even as your skull fragments,
And the line goes deathly flat,
Be sure to forgive your killer,
Though no god will save you.

Do you think the Earth has a gravekeeper?
An elderly man worked to the bone,
Not truly living himself,
A retainer of Father Time,
Caked in mud of prehistory,

Tending to markers of civilisations that have fallen,
The graves of cultures rotting,
Peoples long past,
Traditions preserved in dirt and amber,
Their stories insulated against times decay,

He is a curator of memories,
Propagator of the ways of peoples of eld,
Pyramids and ruins and spires,
Egypt and Inca and Cree,
Among others these graves will not vanish into dust,

Whether lost to famine or conquest,
Plague or assimilation,
Old flames will be kept alive,
Flowers will bloom upon their epitaphs,
For all to remember and learn,

Our gravekeeper digs evermore,
His shovel groans in earnest,
All cultures fall to the grind of time,
All empires collapse,
Our western culture indeed has a grave waiting cleared.

I know of a place,
Supposedly above us all,
A hive of powerful insects,
Within a gothic revival cathedral of the politik,
A nest of invertebrates in fancy suits,
Exoskeletons with party badges,

They titter to each other with slavering mouthparts,
Which service for the poor do they consume next?
Which welfare element to scavenge from?
Arguments made in clicks and buzzing,
Elected and opposition bicker in a childish game,
One that the electorate lose every time,

The hive walls writhe as the swarms debate,
Their original purpose drowned,
Feasted upon by mandibles myriad,
Now the numbers must only rise,
Compound eyes scanning statistic analyses,
Claws rubbing together in hunger,

This infestation is beyond purging,
You voted for this,
This elitist hive of twisted democracy,
Allegiance to the party colony is all to these villains,
The people are simply a source of sustenance,
I fear they too can be the only effective insecticide,

Raise your voices,
Don’t fall prey.

The day has come,
To see an empire fall in real time,
These cracks have been propagating for some time,
Decadence and arrogance have weakened this people,
When are allies are shunned,
Dollars put before livelihoods,
Minorities beaten and shut,
A constitution thrown atop a pyre,

Equality is a hymn forgotten,
Ogres of bigotry and hate prowl each street,
Looking for innocents to dismember,
A flag of red white and blue drips crimson,
To an anthem ringing hollow,
Doomsday cults vote against their own interests,
Your gates of Rome are sundered,
But the barbarians are not without but in your tallest office,

Which ever way the cards fall,
Which ever name the polls screech,
The wounds are already necrotic,
The damage is done,
Measured in respect lost and orphans made,
Scales tipped too far,
The seas rise,
And the foundations of this empire dissipate,

No life jackets will be thrown.

Atop his scarred mare,
Beside his beleaguered comrades,
Hussar and dragoon and cuirassier,
The lancer wipes muck from his uniform azure,
Harvest of a cold morning scrap,
Barely a mile taken,
A score of lives paid,

And the general sips his wine,

A reluctant warrior,
A soldier true and father twice,
Thrall to the kings coin,
Yet the battery fire recommences,
And the order to charge is given,
A L’attaque!
The flagging lancer blasts ahead,

And the general sips his wine,

Shrapnel and flesh collide all around his advance,
The lancer picks out his mark,
The grist for his lance,
Akin to a Romeo delivering his final romantic plea,
Direct to the foes heart,
Inspecting his handiwork he saw his victim to be no more than fourteen summers,
Somewhere a mother wails,

And the general sips yet more wine.

The politicos must be ambidextrous,
Full control of robotic limbs,
Both starboard and port,
Built of steel comprised of voter ballots,
These men are performers to be sure,
Paragons of dexterity,
Through rarely of intent,

They take the stage,

These cold iron jugglers,
Able to aptly spin so many plates,
Receptacles holding human welfares,
The lives of constituents,
Or underlings,
Depending on whom you ask,
Critic or sycophant,

Some plates will be laid low,

These robots wear human suits,
Manufactured for one purpose,
Powerful hands of stately cunning,
Only one plate is truly a priority though,
Both hands indeed focus on that,
That plate that holds their own fortunes and positions,
No chance of that plate slipping,

It is the reason for this show to begin with.

A novel new blight has arisen,
It is upon the tongues of all,
With the same frequency as hellos and farewells,
The covid virus,
The new political and media months flavour,
An ailment embellished,
Despite its lethal effects,

The initial symptom being a destruction of all sense,
Eagerly followed by the choking of the weak,
Indeed let it be known it is a foul affliction,
Lives shattered and irrevocably altered,
Not purely by this virus itself,
But by legislative hammers of feeble men,
Flaccid controls in the guise of genius,

It has taken over,
But what of the others?
Those recieved of other illnesses,
Cancers and strokes and fractures and derangement,
They are skipped over,
Verily banished from the facilities meant to aid them,
Sent to form morgues within their hovels,

Souls perish every hour to these curses,
But the darling of the elite takes the stage,
The pundits preach fear overblown,
Fear the covid,
There is only covid,
But I ask of you,
Does covid matter more than all other ills?

Amidst the battery fire and shrapnel,
Ripostes and mud and barbed wire,
Warfare is glorious,
A vehement symphony of iron and gore,
Triumphant charges and resounding firing lines,
Dark clouds braiding with sulphur,
Nations forms are in flux,

You are a soldier,
Thrust your bayonet into that opposing commoner,
To increase your masters demesne by inches,
For those men who sip wine in silken tents,
In elite safety,
For those whom paint borders,
Your blood and your opponents the currency for miles,

There is no grandeur to be found here,
For the common man it is naught but hell,
A charnel house,
And yet for your flag you enlist,
Fire your salvo into that poor mans flank,
Fight for your valour,
Your thanks shall be as dirt upon your casket,

A most ancient con job,
There is no glory in war.