We always wait for some
semblance of change,
rotating them in and out
of their ivory towers
in fixed elections,
not meant for the masses,
this thing we crave,
this desire to clutch
it with our wrtetched hands,
working them to the bone,
feeding their technological machines
under this ruthless guise,
the advancement of humankind.
How long will we wait,
working twenty-four seven,
some three jobs
for peace?
Pray tell
while we wait pilgrims,
wait for the happy-Hobbits
to reach Isengard?
That might take forever...
and we,
We the People,
haven't got that much time left...