Sunday, September 25, 2016

Politics is

Politics is 
raw meat in the Colosseum of thought. 
Poets have no business there.  
Political rhetoric is tangled
in crisscrossed veins of ideology, 
matted in dogma’s grey hair.  
Political prizes are big game, 
majestic symbols of freedom,
slaughtered and mounted 
for sport and fame.  
Politics is bloody tough 
when well-done, 
bloody when tender, 
blood-sweet and salty. 
Politics is the amplified grunts 
of cavemen in suits 
holding guns 
with scopes.
Politics is
not for me.