Watching From The Wings... Poem by DM W

Watching from the wings,
in splendid isolation;
detached from centres
no longer fit for purpose.
How many perceive
these pantomime processions
as crass and pointless?
How many times do goldfish
go round bowls without
any sense of self-awareness?
How many are still
willing to cast their vote for
hypocrites and clowns.
'Bread and circuses' still work
for the masses, whilst
truth- tellers are ostracised
without exception.
I shudder to think about
the future of this
wrecked, godforsaken planet.