Best Politicking Poems


Clocks Ticking To Politicking

(Read later stanzas for more of the humour part ; parody of politics)

I Can't think well of a democracy
if nepotism and false promises
are part and parcel of its idiosyncrasy
A system of governance can't appeal to me
if it forever stinks of the 'stinking' rich plutocracy.

The media the ravening wolves many times their puppets,
together they howl for our  divided attention
With wily words to win the masses of marionnettes
The nation's welfare merely their scheme in pretension.

Wonder why political power has to be the monopoly
of ambitious, vainglorious affluent power moguls.
Why can't they simply choose leaders
from any sincere poor yet wise and humble individuals?

The promises of a better world by 'em' politicians
are simply the oratory tricks of slick tacticians.

Demagogues come in all shapes and sizes
They come in 'perfect' future leader disguises
Pulling you and me to polling booths, luring us the dumbstruck voters
To amass as much power and wealth as possible in their limited quotas.

No wonder poor presidents are turned or burned
in the form of their rude and crude effigy cartoons
Comic sarcastic politics I say, since a caricature
it purposely lampoons!

Then the demonstrations, remonstrations
but they only invite riots and tear bomb gas
So if yah can keep your rallies peaceful
maybe you won't be such an ass.

And if yah do go ahead ranting, panting, slogun chanting
No seeds of discord nor weeds of hate be sowing, planting
for a showdown with fleshy arms, no metal arms can still be prancing, advancing
With sloguns not shotguns be ye protesting and demanding.

Thus I really wonder if politicos politicking
really do make the world tick.
Or do they simply in many places cause
timebombs to parallel the clock's tick?

(ok cast d ballot n vote 4 me as funny presidential candidate
 of no-man's land ;
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Murmuration of Starlings High

Murmuration of starlings high. I’m high!
Low stars twinkling with wings. The trumpet’s call!
As winds of war, incline, in warm wind sigh,
the flock, a shock, sans enemies appall.

These friends do fascinate, heard like bombers,
like Japanese over unsuspecting 
Pearl Harbor fight ~ these darling bird-balmers.
The nudge of melodic buzz, quite affecting.

Not of national consequence, abuzz
not with politicking but peace of soul -
remains of war pittance, the scrawling-t’was.
My awesome sight, this di’mond-bling of coal.

Mere humans offer crumbs ~ my heart flaps wings.
With murmurs high and low, communion springs.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Panagiota and Nursing School Memories

                Panagiota and The Autopsy


An autopsy, I found, educational to the max!
Those sacred, holy,human body parts, being 
removed part by part.
Weighed on a scale, as if in a large supermart?


Really, truly, after all our human snickering and
politicking?
Is this who we are, simply meat on a cold slab?
And tell me, please, who is going to pay the tab?


Where will my Muse be when I lie naked on a table?
I can't scream "help" as the knife slices me from 
neck to navel.
No trophies in this inglorious space and no POTD either.
No, poet friends, not in this inglorious stable.


There is no talk here of skin color nor of crucial racial matters.
For on that table,insides of all humans are of the same color, 
Simply at peace,lying in tatters, I shout, all all lives matter!!


It's surprising, I withstood all this, being a young student 
nurse and all.
It was September in Evanston, at Saint Francis Hopital
I shall never forget, that colorful, most memorable fall.


I never became a nurse,instead, fell deeply in love, truly,  
a far more romantic deal! 

We moved to San Francisco, where hills, deep love and 
with poetry, my heart forever, he did eternally steal!
And the Pacific Ocean transforming from shades of deep 
blues to  the most enchanting teals!


                         July 5, 2023
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member There Was a Time

There was a time
in days of yore
perhaps far back
before a cave had
a door – when faith
was everything

Before we thought
we knew, and dreams
and prayers more mattered

There was a primitive time
before science recognized
when all was myth and
ethereal drift....

till our fantasies and politicking
produced a world of real fire breathing
dragons, reddening many skies
and lands

There was a time

when man yet had

plenty of time....
© Joe Dimino  Create an image from this poem.

School Head-Captain

Below are the majority views of students about to vote
for their next high school head-captain: 


Nelson:

He is tall and handsome,
plays for our basketball team,
knows the best bars in town,
hates maths, just like us.


Pitt:

He's shy,
hates proms and games,
he's a nerd,
he wears heavy glasses


Charlie:

He's a perv and a chain smoker,
heavy metal is his friend,
never talks much,
but rocks in raving!


Kelvin:

An "A" material, and spends more time
in the library than in bed.
He believes in extraterrestrials.
We think he should visit a shrink or something....


Hosea:

He's very smart and funny,
active in spoken word,
hates politicking,
certain for a scholarship,
very good with skateboards....

................................................................................

Hosea made the cut,
but forcefully. Majority
of students threatened 
that they would steal his
skateboards, if he didn't
stand for the coveted position
as the head-captain......
Form: Narrative

We Are Victims

We are victims
Tied with  common fetters 
Loosed in thoughts of varied choices and desires
Loosely searching to make ends meet:
The meeting at this spot,
Either to go or stay, is a choice.

We are victims
Of the policies of pain
Emitted to drive us crazy, 
We are on the street , though not crazy.
Destroying our common patrimony. 
In futility, our sweat squeezed and 
Mixed with our hot blood,
Spilled on the street’
The rampage against the policies that police our lives.

We are victims 
Caught in the web 
Of a cruel nation
Piloted by scoundrels
The apostles of destruction
Who roused our emotions,
Taking the only broken cup 
Left for us to scoop 
The dirty water in the pond:
The beggar’s choice!
Out of pain, we have  heaped mud 
To cover the pond.
 
Yes, we are victims.
Our pain boldly inscribed on our skin
Our  thick skin, the archive of servitude .
And every effort to initiate freedom,
The beginning of futility.
  
We are  pushed to the wall,
The dog must bark.
While it barks, 
Its kennel is sacred.
Let us not destroy each other, our lots and more.
Let us not engage the street to loot, 
Though we remonstrate ,
Let’s not pull down our commonwealth,
The acreages of government,
They belong to us.
We are victims of a beautiful nation stressed with stench politicking.


Premium Member A Never Ending Story

Besides love and happiness
The world is full of sufferings
Political crisis, economic crisis, epidemics and poverty
Slanders, violations, crimes and trafficking
Politicking,  hegemony, disputes and wars
A never ending story of sufferings
Hardly any solutions
But becomes great inspiration for 
Story tellers
Art pieces
Poems writers
And
An old grandmother's story for the next generation
Of course an unerasable scandal

We Are Graduates

We have graduated from many prestigious tertiary institutions,
With flying colors,
Competent and resourceful,
But we are roaming around the streets, homeless, penniless and jobless.

We have been trained,
Under the scorching sun and in the rain,
In skill acquisition 
And entrepreneurship development (SAED),
But we are neglected, so we resort to crimes,
And daily marched toward the docks.

We have studied the Constitution and Civic Education,
Equipped ourselves daily
With the articles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights,
Found out that we are the leaders of tomorrow,
A lie as old as time itself.

Since we have tasted poverty and dormancy,
And can't even say when they will stop politicking with our future,
It's high time we make up our minds,
To changelessly be or not to be,
Perpetual hungry applicants or educated and hopeless scholars.

Premium Member Indices of a Loon

GOODLUCK

Gutless muffled monarch wooed millions to the poll, 
Our feeble lord enforced by pathetic speech of poverty (I once had no shoes) 
On congruent grounds of pain we forced him, though we hated his coterie. 
Disappointed, we wail waiting surrogate to lead to unending journey of relief
Lackluster, jejune as pervading rot lingers
Unvaried captain rocks our boat, gagged around by plunderers.
Circles of death, twinge, pauperdom and miseries mocks the reign of naivety.
Kleptocrat adorn self in regalia, loved the honor. lacks duty

EBELE

Embezzlers of collective trust bequeathed in hope, 
Bandits as conniving ministers besmirched our obtuse scamp
Egregious, craven, shrieked at the sound of war (I am not a lion) 
Laggard lumper loon left fanatical murderers at our doorsteps 
Encumbrances from his delinquent clan divide the love for mother land

DAME

Damp squib's duchess of indecent tongue, never feels a vestige of restraint
Academic 'double misnomer' with licence to libel, 
Merriment and intrigue feigned as obligations, 
Edgy. encumbrance though ceaselessness forms their  amity. 

PATIENCE

Punk pretending and purloining to private vaults
Adventurous nerve for futile globe trot 
Twitchy at the affairs of state, though Unemployed by sensible Poll
Intoxicated by serendipity, shaming all with activity
Euphemistic drama Usurps Scrappy literacy on cultured observers
Crude verbiages to amuse myriad of eggheads (my Fellow widows) 
Encomium of Yesterday's approval turned sour and Tsar inept mode prevails

Jokers jostled in enthusiasm to rule, (politicking for 2015) 
Onslaught from 'Boko-Haram' drove sleep from wearied countrymen
Numbed as "hoipolloi" echoed NO to mistimed removal, 
Alas, the fraud, rapscallion looted the poor to a blindfold
Tyrannic cloaked his garb in power busted on the streets with the troop 
Higgledy-piggledy bugled the travesty of Democracy
Amidst the rubble of a crumbling amalgam
Nigerian Lords watched the drama secured among a troop we die helpless

Premium Member If You Pull a Long Face - Part Xxi

IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XXI

IF you pull a long Moon face
Watching our Earth clad in sparse swirling white sarée
Her aqua-marine waters cuddling her reddish brown body-surface
The dazzlingly rare Pearl now throttled by deadly débris

If you then pull a long Other-Moon face
Rolling weightless in a space-ship bathed in thermo-dynamic ray
You turn your thoughts on the marvels of the man-made science race
And then give the credit to Our-Nation GOD  Is this really okay

Then if you pull a long bright Sunny face
And forget the reasons why this World of ours has gone astray
Man's inhumanity to Man  how warring nations destroy Nature's grace
Pollute the depths of oceans  cancer in the bowels  flora and fauna sans say

If you continue to pull a long self-satisfied face
In the name of the Lord for every national achievement His blessings pray
Then repeat non-sensical myths and rituals in His Honour according to race
Reduce the United Nations to hypocritical inner politicking yeah-say

Thus if you must pull a long-travestied face
All through the Ages on the dictates of your incontrovertible DNA
Seek by every economic ruse power of class and caste on skins of race
Sing not of the beauty of this rare Pearl decorating space Put the blame squarely on Divine Lila play

© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 20, 2019
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

Theatre of the Absurd

Some acted as per their roles and stage names,
while others didn't;
those who didn't created their roles and stage names,
creating a confusion on stage.

Roles mixed up and confusion ensued;
what was themed to be based on politicking,
became a ticking time bomb for the playwright's success.

Shocked he was when his play was applauded as the funniest
comedy in the history of the theatre
by the audience,
for he had written a political satire script.

Ironically, some of the people in the audience were politicians,
yet they still enjoyed the murky presentation of the play,
which they thought was orderly humor.
Form: Narrative

The Shakahola Massacre

Be Not Afraid 
When God Says so
everything is  permitted
The genocide on screens 
was sanctioned from heaven 
800 acres 800 graves
In the name of God 
Their Journey was hastened 
The heavens were opened
"I saw visions of God."
Ezekiel was preaching

Be not Afraid 
The Government has faith 
The chief was ordained 
His cup was brimming 
A  man Of God
His blessings revealing  
Death permits signed 
The Heaven Resort was booming
The word of the Lord came to Ezekiel 
There the hand of the Lord was dirty 
The Gospel of McKenzie

Be not Afraid 
The Politicians are cracking 
The politics politicking 
And Justice is coming
The God Of Israel fighting for Kenya
The God of Kenyans  sacrificed for favour
The house of God is a Morgue
DP said it is something small
800 Dead, It's no big deal
The dead are home 
Each one went straight ahead
Wherever The spirit Goes They Go
McKenzie was Mediating 

Be not Afraid 
Shakahola will repeat 
When the systems are broken 
The saviours are needed 
When  St Peter is corrupted 
The devils do sneak In 
When  your God is Imported 
Prosperity is Gospel 
And those desperate in need 
Forget even Christ Lost faith
When the creatures moved
To the appearance of the likeness 
But is easier to forget 
Than pay the price of reality
Form: Narrative

Talking Points

Maybe we can put the thing to rest     
with nary an amount of protest:       
I dare say politics at its best            
is but a popularity contest.        

Rule 1, always be in the top news
and if attacked do not be nervous;
remember that what it takes to win                   
is a boundless talent to spin.    

Lie if you must, it’s perfectly okay,
you can't last unless you're a phony, 
say you are a savior or something,
sky’s the limit in politicking. 

Inexperienced? not a big problem!
hire a tested media-savvy team;  
don’t worry about grasp on issues, 
just flip-flop to have a wider view.

So what if you have no character?    
you know it does not really matter; 
what is required is to talk nonstop
to rocket all the way to the top.

Politics is no more than showbiz -
TV interviews, talk shows and glitz;
wait! charisma will do wonders too       
like it did for that monkey at the zoo.

Day Sounds of the Deaf

Cock-crow for me is the tring of the alarm clock
unheard but felt as it vibrates against the pillow .

Coffee percolator bubbles (and whistles?)
the puffs of steam tantalizingly call for a sip.

(The susurration of the shower screams to be heard)
but the sharp needles against my skin 
is music to me.

(The siren calls to work)- a flurry
 of movement is my cue.

(Motors hum their tune) - soft purring felt 
by experienced touch
proclaim all is well.

Much mime, smiles, lips  contort, form words
some understood, 
a blessing not to hear the babble
of bitching and politicking
behind backs.

Traffic moves silently 
on greased paths,
colored winks and blinks
in control.

Home again, music is on
and I dance to the rhythm
of blinking lights.

Night, and I shut off the lights
And enter the void
devoid of sight 
and 
unheard
sound. 

~20 Jun 2016~

Random Musings

One random time in class,
our teacher asked us what came first;
the chicken or the egg?
We were all divided with our answers until date…..
Today, I ask.
What came first, politics or a politician?
Our answers may seem easy,
but it’s like looking for an edge in a circle.
I asked a scientist that question,
And he replied
“A politician cannot exist without politics!”
I asked a clergy and he replied
“Man creates his own ideas……”
I asked a politician the same question,
and he told me that getting an answer 
was as incredulous as voting for two candidates
at the same time.
Soon I began to wonder whether I was politicking
my thoughts without knowing it……
Form: Narrative

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