End Of Politics Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

End of Politics
I sit on the terrace in the sun, its forenoon and not too hot
A dog in the road barks looking up I ignore it and it leaves sits
in the shad and wait. I feel guilty get up walk down and feed
it two slices of ham. I refuse now to write political poems its
quite useless, but it shocked me to learn that in 1952 ex nazi
officers had and army ready to defend West Germany against
the Russians; they didn´t attack. The Russians never do as we
expect, and now the fascist thugs in Kiev, with the help of CIA,
are baiting the bear. Nor will I bother to write that I regard
NATO as a war machine gone mad, by the lack of a apt targets
to bomb; in a way it is USA´s forbidding, foreign subdivision.
On the white wall opposite my cottage the shadows made
a map of Europe then as the sun got higher on the cerulean sky
it erased the map, was that an omen?