The Politicians
Beneath luxury’s shadow, its cold, dim glow.
In a city where reason seems out of reach,
A cynical man lights his cigarette — slow,
his cosmic dreams lie beyond what they teach,
Through tough times he coughs, yet does not show,
the portmanteau of tensions now in motion,
while sophists preach truths they scarcely know,
rosettes of etiquette lost in a political ocean,
his love for the brunette who calls him beau,
a magician’s trick, though vicious and grand,
as the weight of bureaucracy drags them low,
they can’t heal the ruin that spreads through the land.
How the nation allows such chaos to grow!
The political life is no game to play.
Her mansion stands tall, yet the air feels tight.
Through a brunette’s Gazette, tall tales weigh,
the opulent walls that conceal true light—
in pictures an owl on a Plateau—wise, silent prey—
conveying the magic of nature’s dream,
as chaos deepens and order gives way,
a dolphin leaps through the photo’s bright sheen,
as she thinks on the beau who shaped her day.
A magician might weave a vicious spell,
How does this nation allow such decay?
Yet the political direction won’t make them well.
Hope only in beauty that obeys not their way.
WoPoLi 
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