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The Chameleons

THE CHAMELEONS
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS


Give credit to the chameleons, they blend right in 
A simple maneuver, changes the color of their skin
No matter the surroundings, one thing is clear
You may not see him, despite him being quite near
Nature blessed him, with a way to camouflage
If you can’t locate him, he doesn’t need to dodge


There are other chameleons much larger in size
No need to change colors just manipulate the ties
You can find them in droves as far as the eye can see
They setup shop, at a place called, Washington, D.C.
They are the big players sucking at the money well
Get their basic training at state capitols as well


Who are these nabobs that really run the show
Lobbyists, lawyers, agents the heavies in the know
They have assistants in the senate and in the house
That dole out the contracts, a cronies clearinghouse
Its big money that has our representatives infected
You have to do their bidding or won’t be reelected


So all the players in this production fall in line
The actors may change but old habits just work fine
They all get along, merrily, functioning with ease
They butter the slopes with a thing we call sleaze
House n senate are unique, they have their own rules
Members enjoy privileges, while the electorate mewls


They are all members of a well rehearsed troupe
Act as if independent, but really, they’re one group
They can perform adroitly if the audience is in view
In caucuses the party whip tells them what to do
The scenario will be dictated, the libretto written
Writers will tweak n choreograph the esoteric spin



Chameleons (2)


Citizens upset with political self-centered behavior
Seek representation from someone who’ll act in their favor
A reformer appears with unimpeachable credentials
A local politician possessing all the needed essentials
Many a well intentioned has made the journey to D.C.
Just to be tainted n twisted in that cesspool of iniquity

Be elastic, go with the flow, succumb to the pressure
If you close your eyes, you certainly amass treasure
It’s El dorado, it’s Cibola, a leprechauns pot of gold
An arena where votes are routinely auctioned and sold
It doesn’t take long for the clever to figure out
All anyone could wish for, is here, there’s no doubt

What’s wrong with the cast in this ongoing production
To an outsider, the unwashed, it smacks of dysfunction
Not so, it’s a well choreographed ruse to get things done
Deals are made, interested parties all get a plum
If parties don’t get all they wanted this time around
Stick to the want list other opportunities abound

Need to display statesmanship, when under the gun
But at the end of the day, nothing has been done
A common procedure, that these chameleons play
Changing costumes to match, what the pollsters say
There are some difficulties that they must face
But none more lethal than the November race

They may panic if a serious opponent suddenly appears
Get out dossiers, speak innuendos, produce the smears
Town meetings, fund raisers will clutter the day
Removing the me and I. they had nothing to say
Lack of accomplishments never stand in the way
Name recognition, maybe sufficient, to carry the day

Impossible to keep track of the multiple roles they play
Who are the madams, hookers, pimps, Johns: too hard to say
They have many generous tasks, they need to fulfill
They get the goodies and you get the bill

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