Politics, a kind of game of shame,
Pulling each other's legs the sole aim,
An odd set of raiders,
Not team, self defenders,
Game lost, there begins a game of blame.
A man in sixties is budding youth,
Prejudice mistaken be for truth,
All passion no reason,
Treason without season,
Black's new white, eye for eye, tooth for tooth.
An honest upright no more gets sought,
Deceitful readily sold and bought,
All devil's advocates,
All Machiavellian mates,
Nation's honour is when never hot.
He goes far and wide, his chair to keep,
Drink of disgrace with rivals to sip,
To pose as patriot
In wildest dreams he's not,
No limit he finds too tall to leap.
_________________________________________________
Keeping in mind the subject matter this piece is set in a Limerick form, a set of four.
_________________________________________________
Reflections | 05.01.2018 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem