Political Poetry

Is the appearance of democracy more important than the alternative — or shall we simply admit the truth? If manipulators really run things, then why not say so? What greater good is accomplished by a democratic facade? One obvious advantage for puppeteers is that they remain hidden while pulling strings. The people assume outcomes are their own doing, dutifully assuming full responsibility.

Sly cowardice keeps these foxes from standing out front to lead as they shield themselves behind voters. If we had a king, at least his head would serve as collateral for his performance. But these ravenous rats infest our hallowed halls making nibbles so small as to remain individually inconsequential — yet as a whole they’ve eaten the people out of house and home.

Cats of course! Bring in the cats! But where are you, democracy’s feline friend? Shall we the people be reduced to treacherous thievery, stealing scraps from one another as we all slowly starve? Nay, say it is not so! Oh guardians of democracy, we cannot even shout, for we are but the voiceless masses.

But what light through yonder window breaks? I see the tears of three-hundred million glistening in the rising sun. A resplendent glory shining so brightly as to illuminate every recess, exposing every shady happening. From our sorrow, we rise, floating atop a wave of briney brilliance. From such darkness emerges the sanctity of our institutions, no longer plagued by the pestilence of profiteering.

Oh humanity, thy time has come. Interconnected networks demolishing division and ushering in a new era. A time when the meek and mild shall inherit the earth, their voices now amplified to deafening strength. Cutthroat competition and condemnation collapsing under the weight of compassionate cooperation. The unison of a chorus calling out: We the people, indivisible, pledge to each other our lives and our fortunes — and by our unified power, do we ordain the establishment of liberty and justice for all.


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