The Politician Poem by Ross DixPeek

The Politician

By
Ross Dix-Peek


Beware, for I am the son of Machiavelli
The “Pretender” immortal
From my lips pours forth only pure cunning
My Gilded words drip with honeyed seduction

Glib-tongued and the prince of artifice
I thee will enthral
A promise of all things I thee give
Things all

My words a golden fleece will weave
Only to deceive
And when my position untenable becomes
I fear not, for just another cause I shall as quickly embrace

A vile mercenary I am
Golden ingots my god
Unassailable Power my desire
Naught will stand in my way

I shall seize the day!
Loyalty, I thee hate
Betrayal, I thee love

I am but a chameleon
My colours changing with each passing day
And yet, although thee know I am but a mountebank and charlatan
Ye still my vile countenance and mien embrace

Ye still into my web of treachery doth stumble
Aware ye fully of my lies and duplicity
And that my dear friend,
is why I shall for all times eternal prosper!
For am I not the son of Machiavelli!