Politics 

The State of Disunion 

Hail to the chief as he enters the chamber,

this narcissistic march, pompous,

strutting as if to collect a favour.

Then there is the lady behind him,

marionette on a string,

pulled not by genuine emotion,

but by a desire to cause a commotion. 

These are our leaders,

the ones entrusted with this carefully balanced Republic,

those balanced scales resting on delicate egos,

holding trials and making speeches,

pretending to care about issues.

They seek power for powers sake,

these egos rise and fall like the sun and moon,

all the while the city burns,

those fragile bonds of nation and citizen strain and break. 

There are no oaths to sworn and kept,

only hollow words and allegiance to only a few,

the republic is burning and all the while they have slept. 

He refused a customary handshake,

she ripped up his speech,

To many people preaching politics,

both all coiled up like a snake,

out of sight, out of his reach,

both busy throwing stones and sticks. 

Why do they sit so high up there?

Surveying the world and for us no care.

The ways and means of this happenstance,

is only separated by the thinnest of circumstance.

These mad men and women have left reason behind.

Each side opposing the other,

always talking past each other.

All the prestige of that mighty house,

sunken and now stained as if covered by a black velvet blouse.

T.S. Deary

2/16/2020

Author: picturesassembledfrommemory

A poet and a teacher.

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