The Politician

Pork-chop cheeks and whiskey smiles, Unable to hear the screams, Or feel the clenched fist of anguish. Just gravy boats, reporters’ notes, And passenger windows, A self-perpetuated pride, A collective team of ego. Laughing in hysterical Deliverance of ignorance. Playing around, Intentionally oblivious To disastrous decisions. Twenty-plus years too late. National incompetence, The scourge of historical importance, Shattering a nation’s livelihood. Millions of pieces scattered In a dense, foggy wood. A gathering of like-minded fools, Emerging from the greatest education And finest halls. Exemplary in the tradition of failure, Perfect in self-service. Number one, Next to none, Perfection in vile thoughts, The master of demon guile. And under every rock, you lurk, Sociopathic and absurd, Elevated by your will, The autocratic style. How does a pauper rise to noble feats? By a system of tricks and treats? A self-justification through heaps Of linguistic beats. A democracy for those who Plunder the harvest reaps, Not for all, or those who need, Just those who wash your feet, Place great measures For promised privilege. To thrive, turn by turn, A circle of peerage, Flashing the cleavage of mockery, Just showing off a parading aristocracy. The instrument of control, The hammer to our freedom, The chisel to our expression, The square to our heartfelt intention. The drill to our completion, Our real nightmare... The politician.