In Politics Everyone is an Ultracrepidarian

In the halls where power waltzes with slight of hand,
Where voices rise and fall, voices shift on shifting sand,
A curious thing right rebranded as wrong, a political spin—
In politics, the American soul is lost to be the one to win.
The administration makes declarations to tear Americans apart,
stating facts that factually they made up from the start.
Each extends beyond their grasp. They have authority, they claim.
They keep Americans in the dark as they play a guessing game.
The art of statecraft is a cloak-and-dagger dance,
Where certainty is cast by loaded die or by happenstance.
In forums grandstanding, on platforms of false claims of right,
they speak of things disguised by smoke and mirrors – blindsight.
With fervor in backroom deals, they favor investors from distant shores,
while American resources stretch thin, by favored and false words,
The world’s complexities, as ultracrepidarians, they try to frame,
yet in their hands, they oversimplify, as they change the rules of the game.
The ultracrepidarians hearing the economist, the diplomat, the sage,
with wisdom, each voice resounds, as our leaders write them off the page,
In the realm where facts are twisted and with truth collides,
the voices of Americans echo from afar and the false authority decides.
On they speak, and earn, through their deceit their fleeting fame.
In politics, all Americans wear the same strange name—
Ultracrepidarians outside their area of expertise in the grand debate,
where every speech is bold and brass but rarely spoken straight.