Election: A Political Jazz Poem by Sylva Portoian

Jazz that circles
To keep voters confused
Keep them hysterical
Drinking effervescent juice.

Jazz with unusual tunes,
Awaking most senses
Realizing later
All were earthy mortals.

Everyone entering the jazz—
Playing lottery, most can try.
Some were overfed
Some starved yet can rise.

Fortunes lost for political jazz
Populace clapped, bulling their hands
Some heads end in loss,
Some others on crying cross.

Election jazz is pleasure for the poor
But for the rich, wealthier hinge.
At the end, nobody can win.
The jazz will plunge, and faces hang unsound.