"politicos" poems
the committee
has convened
(kangaroos corralled)
the agenda
is set
(scapegoats framed)
the politicos
are preened
(perfect patriots)
hair coiffed
teeth whitened
(fangs sharpened)
correct talking
points bulleted
(minds closed)
puffed chests
perfectly postured
(bombastic bravado)
freedom fighters
stand firm
(Constitution usurpers)
American flag
lapel pins
(sparkling bright)
liberty's spirit
and tolerance
(roundly condemned)
special interests
are watching
(payola earned)
partisan lines
clearly drawn
(democracy doomed)
Music Selection
Cream: Politician
Oakland
10/1/10
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
DUMPY TRUMPY
Dumpy Trumpy
Sat on his ****
Lumpy Trumpy
Infamous ****
He is not a friend
To the left or the right
And has no live dog
In the political fight.
Dumpy Trumpy
Pats his own back
Bragging how he is
Way ahead of the pack
Of half-witted politicos
With nothing to offer.
He thinks he will win
On the strength of his coffer.
Dumpy Trumpy
Made a big jump.
His gold plated ****
Made a sickening thump.
He waved his money,
He figured it’s enough
To sway the competition
No matter how tough.
Dumpy Trumpy
His Mussolini face
Deaf to the meaning
Of public disgrace;
He figures that even
If the GOP rejects him
He has lots of money
He’s sure will protect him.
Dumpy Trumpy
Plays to the stands
Of wingnuts and crazies
In disgruntled bands.
He’s sure if he curses
The current regime
He can be President.
At least that’s his scheme.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
Diapers and politicians
need to be changed frequently
and for the same reasons
**************************
los panales y los politicos
hay que cambiarles a menudo
y por los mismos motivos
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 10:11 AM UTC
Men and women for election,
Listen to the crowds,
Reflect desires to perfection,
Echo murmurs loud.
Elected, the voters exult
If their candidates win,
Curse under losing result...
Plot to get themselves in.
Either way, time isn't long,
Voters lose first love;
Officials begin to look wrong,
And politics gives 'em a shove.
We never quite see
We're electing ourselves;
Candidates riding on mirrors;
Shiny reflections scream while we yell
Our demands or feed on our fears.
Soon plans we've made turn to dust;
Politicos fail us;
The system breaks down;
The party clogs with inertia and rust,
Until the next campaign comes 'round.
Want to see what we'll get?
Take a look in the mirror...
What we see gives us reason
For fretting and fear.
True mirrors, our best politicians;
Can only reflect what they see...
If we kneel to offer petitions,
Ourselves will pay for our pleas.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
People just don’t get it do they?
PolitiX -
There are no good:
-politics
-politicians
-politicos
-policy
-polices
There is only DISTRACT and TAKE!
If it is bad, fake It good
if its fake, fake it real
if it’s obvious make it someone else’s fault
manipulate details and statistics too
lead the questions,
get the right answers for you
Mass Programmng Media
secret Not Saying Anything service
hide behind our own goods
Freedom these days is all about -
Policing
And the illusion you are in
Control
Politics by its very nature can only exist by divide
the greater the divide
the easier to fraction
easier to fraction
eaier to incite aggression and violence
the resulting fear makes us seek peace
we legislate our freedom away putting hope in lies
the greater the distraction,
the easier the take
Peace is an illusion,
a God-like ideal
A frightened little bird hiding in the bough of a tree
barely out for a second
starving to death
confused
and lonely
because the fear of fear is so great
Political Peace is submission and oppression while convincing you
that its in your best interests not to resist or persist.
You are then provided with a guilded cage
distracted by how different the cage is next to you
or the fence that divides you but you are safe?
All policed by consent
the unmerry road to oppression
begins and ends with distraction and take
all selling illusions of peace and happiness
while selling you out
And YOU are too distracted to notice
YOU are killing your family and neighbors
One fear
One prejudice
One judgement
at a time...
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
---:$:---:$:---
There he goes
the Democrat's fool
the Republican's stooge
a New Order tool
He thinks his candidate
tells the truth
He's heading for the
voting booth
There she goes
those lies are glib
her female hero
promotes Woman's Lib!
For corporate governance
they're all in
They got that
Jolly Roger Grin!
There they stand
The brave Senators
The political nightmare
Dogs and curs
You're out of work
and in a jam?
Just email your
Congressman!
As far as our
Fearless Leaders go
they're no better
they're politicos
For corporate governance
they're all in
They got that
Jolly Roger Grin!
At the end of our rope
we choke and dance
but we keep our
political stance
We listen to their
clever quips
kissing babies
with rotting lips
But they are poisoning
the water we drink
the air we breathe
C'mon folks!
THINK!
We have power!
We have might!
We gotta think!
We gotta fight!
The Constitution's
eroding away!
The Bill of rights?
Ha! Gone today.
In the end
We could WIN!
There's 99 of US to only
ONE OF THEM
For corporate governance
they're all in
They got that
Jolly Roger Grin
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/17/2015
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Untitled 1– Challenge
The second great war was over
Europe had begun to settle
After years of fighting under the yoke of the gun
People relaxed and seemed in fine fettle.
Till the powers-that-be in their wisdom once more
Found another ill cause they could follow
Communism was now beginning to encroach
And all platitude began to ring hollow.
All the talks between leaders
Peace rallies, hippies man!
There would still be bleeders
From the ranks of the everyman.
We become the fodder of vicious politicians
In their eternal struggle for **********
That war became so very cold
As it swept from nation to nation.
And now amidst their platitudes
As night-time follows day
The war-dead fodder of yesterday
Encroach in dreams to have their say.
©Joe Wilson – Untitled 1…2015
Untitled 2 – Challenge
Like fodder we all go to cast our vote
As fodder once more, our ideals are smote
Times past we were sent as fodder to the gun
She lost her husband, he lost his son
And yet once more as the enemies approach
Politicians embellish and lies encroach
Yet no amount of platitude
Can change what must now be construed
We all are pawns in political aims
Sent as fodder in corruptors games
As cats get fatter and use platitude
The mood turns ugly as the populace brood.
©Joe Wilson – Untitled 2…2015
Untitled 3– Challenge
Statistical fodder in propaganda machine
The poor portrayed as lazy and obscene
While politicos laugh at this weekend’s jolly
The vulnerable suffer from yet more absurd folly.
While slick party leaders, before cameras, debate
In all of the platitude refusing to state
That they are the ones who are really to blame
As they take creature comforts for themselves in the game.
But the time fast approaches when they will be found out
As climates encroach that will bring with them, drought
And the poor and the weak will still just do their best
While the rich will get richer and ****** the rest!!
©Joe Wilson – Untitled 3…2015
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:56 AM UTC
What about them?
Do they know struggle?
Struggle that saps all you got, takes all you give with a hearty slap on the back…
Struggle and toil and trouble and loyal men and women digging and dragging through it all searching, searching, sometimes finding, but searching hard and long and harder for that elusive light at the end of the tunnel…
Do they know heartbreak?
Heartbreak, that all encompassing down-in-the-gutter kind of heartbreak…
Heartbreak that shoves you around, all ragged, all disarrayed and disheveled, like a whipping boy, tied to a post, push, pulled, punished…
Do they know pressure?
Pressure that squeeeeezes the life of the building, the party, the place, here, there…
Pressure and persistence and powerful stuff all coming down around and circling above, a hurricane, or tornado, or tsunami sized catastrophe of whatever and wherever, yelling things like, “Who do you think you are?” and “Why I oughtta!” at me, at you, at most anyone…
What about these hands?
Not their hands, not even those hands, but these hands, here…
These hands are covered in conveyances…
These hands tell stories, not so many, but stories enough.
Here, these hands have sores.
Here, these hands have blisters, and cuts.
Here, these hands are ***** callused, crooked, bent, ****** name callers and spiteful shame shovers, scarred, split nailed, hang nailed, grievance and guilt-ridden givers and takers, knuckle cracking nervous wringers, making fists and holding whatever needs holding…
What am I to do with these hands, now?
What about you?
Have you looked at your hands or whose hands?
Whose hands? Their hands…
Their hands are clean.
Polished.
Glove covered and protected, their hands do what they want, untouched, unscathed…
Or pocket protected in a deep, heavy coat, out of sight, out of mind…
But I’m not talking about them there,
I’m talking about them there, way over there,
Beyond those and them, way beyond…
Definitely not here, but over there, faaaarrr over there…
That’s the them I mean.
They tell us to **** it up…
That we can make ourselves, to leave them out of it.
Them over there think I’m not worth it…the trouble, that is.
They show their glove-protected hands, wave them in the air, showing the pristine cleanliness of those hands (not these hands) and wave and wave, declaring, “No sir” and “Not I,” turning their backs.
But, what about me or you…here?
What then?
When?
Now, then, whenever.
Who will help you…when you’re at the end of the rope?
No hope.
No line cutter, no savior, no nonsense, all business…
Feet dangling, body twitching, lungs gasping, all inches from the ground…
Hands knotted, head on the chopping block, axes raised…
Who will help you?
The insurance policy?
The friends and neighbors you avoided?
The family you forgot to send Christmas cards to?
The gods of wherever and whomever and whenever?
The politicos calling the shots, pulling the strings?
The big shots in the suits with the Rolexes,
Rolls Royces, and riches?
Them?
Them way over there?
No, not them…
No way, no how.
Their hands are clean… Cleaner then these, here.
Where?
Right, right here.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
She's queen of the desert,
peasant of the land
At night when the wolf howls,
she'd be Mother of Nile
At times when the heat kills
She fought for the light
A warrior in darkness, the
hope of the man
Her strength is as fiery
As the madman's eyes
that the Concord dictates
she's the beast immortal
Nobody thought to challenge
her reign, nor tried
to understand how
her plans were made
But everyone envies
to the core of their hearts
Some even sided
with devils' betrayal
Everyone wonders how
she got her Crown
Who made it possible
her defeating these odds
Nobody knew she's but
a slave in the wars
the one that smells,
with the bruises and the scars
No one knew her pirate
woes. The solitude
and the silent crows
But those moorish
Nights that saw it all
They took the pain, the screams
The fall
The academe & politicos
knew her too
Asked why'd she disappear
too far, too soon?
What's curious is that
she didn't know at
all, the lives she lived
had made her whole
It was probably fate or God
or faith, but she lives
the lives of her
seven tales
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
You claimed it was a missile,
Me, a shooting star;
I saw a pickle,
Not a bearded face
In the jar.
Some see wee men,
Approaching their islands.
Cubes floating
In the Austral Ocean,
Warning our hopes are broken.
Janus faced usury
Tear-up for the bear;
Politicos in the chase
Have two mouths on their faces.
We surely landed on the moon;
When we're gone,
We're gone for good.
Bigfoot's not in the woods,
ESP's in the guts,
All paranormal is psychosis.
Too skeptical's obsessive neurosis.
What's one to believe.
I see Jekyll, you Hyde Island;
These stories are so overwhelming,
Growing in numbers with retelling.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
We're hungering for a leader
Who's not a bottom feeder.
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 10:19 AM UTC
I dreamed I saw Tom Paine last night…
The dream became a nightmare. Ride it. Fall.
A Republic if you can keep it. You didn’t.
Every four years a buffoon appears in TVs
who can bleed the American people to disaster.
Burnt Knees. Hill artillery. Hearts not Trump.
An article on now. The inherent absurdity of politics.
Infamy. Liars in public places. Old lies. New faces.
Abandoned factories. Angry workers, Abandoned. All.
Pick a pack of proven paupers. No one cares.
We lust for the stud who can wave his thick wand
and magically make everything better. But won’t.
Even if that he is a she. Show me the money.
How can the one percent eat everything yet never ****
Faceless bureaucrats cannot be held responsible.
Zombie politicos bought and sold like cats in sacks.
Still the mindless parade charade continues
off to the public polls to be pummeled. ****** on.
Get down on your knees and set lips to *****
Due your duty, turn your trick.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
It’s the battle of Baghdad all over again.
Shiite versus Sunni, it’s them against them.
The push for a Caliphate exacts a high toll.
ISIS marches on the capital and, I fear, heads will roll.
On Potomac’s fair shores the politicos dither.
Are we going to help or just let Iraq wither?
We created a vacuum too big to ignore
And ISIS has filled it with ****** and gore
The blood of the innocent washes the streets
as the Iraqi government stares at defeat.
Feckless, our leader, abdicating his role,
is making a putt on the seventeenth hole.
Was it part of his plan to incite revolution?
Is he evil or clueless? What is the solution?
Does he take a position not based on a poll?
We have paid, blood and treasure, and heads ought to roll.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 9:27 AM UTC
What happened in Tuticorin is no less than a democide,
the state snuffing out lives whom it supposed to protect.
The reckless and depraved disregard for the lives,
brought out the ugly and monstrous side of the state.
The state is taking the lives of its own people,
to give 'ease of doing business' to its tycoon cronies.
To enable them to grab lands, flout environmental norms,
violate labour laws and to usurp the natural resources.
People gave up their lives and achieved martyrdom,
to protect the 'ease of living' of their fellow humans.
To let them have a breath of fresh air and a gulp of pure water,
and to enable them save their natural resources and environment.
Democracy is no longer ‘of the people, by the people, for the people’,
it got hijacked to become ‘of the 1%, by the 1%, for the 1%’.
The neo-liberal spaces ever expand and public spaces ever shrink,
till the society is transformed into an oligarchy, into a tycoon fiefdom.
Tycoons campaign finance the politicos to get ease of doing business,
people queue up and exercise their franchise to get bullets in return.
This is the time to reclaim our democracy and regain our lost power,
the only way out is democratic deliberation and political confrontation.
Let's set aside, cricket, soaps, celeb gossip, reality TV and selfies for a while,
and spare a thought for those who breathed their last fighting for our rights.
Let's make sure that the lives of those who fought for clean air won’t go in vain,
by showing that we are the masters and oligarchy is only their pipe dream.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 12:42 AM UTC
Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
by Wendell Berry
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
Once he was a soldier strong and tall.
But that was another place and time.
Now he is old, frail and bowed.
He lives on the streets, but that’s no crime.
He lives on the streets of our nation’s capital,
Where Politicos gibber and disagree.
Since they have shut the government down
He labors now for you and me.
I’ve seen him daily at the Wall.
With broom in hand, he sweeps each day
He cleans the debris left by visitors
Who come to gawk; perhaps to pray?
It’s become his mission now,
to maintain the Wall. He asks no pay.
Just respect for his friends who died
on a battlefield so far away.
Franklin Davis is his name.
a homeless veteran on our streets.
He’s not one of those timid souls
Who knows neither victory nor defeat.
Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 10:56 AM UTC
The rains seem to have finally subsided
At least it seems so for now
Mopping up the sodden devastation
Amid many an insurance row.
Some now say that dredging will not work
But surely history proves that it’s right
Though never a complete solution
At least it reduces the plight.
But politics now comes into play
It’s crucial to be seen in the right
So decisions that were taken only yesterday
Can so easily be changed overnight.
Climate change is with us for good now
It’s become part of our way of life
And solid steps will need to be taken
To end frequent bad weather strife.
But Chancellor’s have always cut budgets
And none have done more so than this
In fact in all of the service programmes
People see themselves staring into the abyss.
It’s all about how they look to the voters
For we carry their careers in our cross
For otherwise I think most politicians
About the plebiscite just wouldn’t give a toss.
We have wards now closing down in our hospitals
There are schools that are never repaired
A benefit system, though flawed, is besieged
Yet the rich tax avoiders still get spared.
So the land, like these other things will lose out
The efforts will cease as will the rain
Till the next time that the heavens all open
And ordinary folk again feel the pain.
There are houses that are ruined forever
Some insurers refusing the bill
Flood defenses that seem barely adequate
Properties from before empty still.
On sodden fields where houses keep rising
And new concrete covers over flood plains
Where tenants often get such poor insurance
And the country just never sees the gain.
But it’s the ‘I’m alright Jack’ way of the politicos
Who mostly live in their ivory towers
They’re the ones who aren’t making decisions
Yet the ones wielding all of the powers.
So the’cross’ is our one powerful weapon
It’s the most powerful thing in the land
We should all make so sure that we use it
And make all of these fools understand.
©JRW2014
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
by Wendell Berry
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion -- put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go.
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
Hey there
You there
Standing with the director
In his chair
Talking about the right actor
Slick back your blonde hair
While you’re mouthing to him
Talking about the movies
Sends you into a hitch
Time to talk about that *****
Who is up next
You know you’re not in the right situation
It’s time for the nation
Let’s go again
For the new generation
Looking at the congressmen
With badges pinned across their *******
And a politically-correct three-piece suit
With their largess
Drenched in sweat
Driving the rally into the unknown folly
To fear the unknown people of foreign cities
More than just a sign
It’s all in our precious time
The high-rollers
In their representative fashions
Taking over the world
And committing all the crimes
But that is just all they do
Let’s be moving on too
What about the generals, brigadiers and captains and colonels
With their epaulettes and patriotic decorations
Conspiring against the nation
Like chameleons
Thanks to their post
With ideas
Those are insidiously of corruption
As they stand host
To nations feasting on war
And diplomacy at the most
Political amusement isn’t it
The dichotomy of having aliens
Deported
And these braver politicos star in their expensive overcoats
See themselves getting promoted
It’s rather fun
When the bourgeoisie
With their Large brim hats
To protect them from the sun
Cash in
More money and hate
More than religious faith
Innocents supposedly drowned in sin
Don’t know when good will begin
With the Catholic Church
Being a prison of beliefs
Since the inception of time
Changing political opinion as we speak
Which brought forth with it unnatural urge
Hilarious isn’t it when politics starts to stink
When the crowds go berserk as they scream
For more religious retaliation and a lost dream
Fun isn’t it
For the vengeance seeking righteous prisons
Who wish their prisoners burn in the crimes
That they spin
Before they can live out of those times
And their whims
But who is to blame
The heart isn’t tame
Is it God
Who has made it rough
For the virtuous inferno of actions
That has been extinguished by the holy water of circumstance and disdain
Isn’t it easy to blame our surroundings
Rather than our actions and our fate
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 1:45 PM UTC
Politicians, when questioned, who begin their answer with “So”... Those who waffle when questioned and yet they clearly don’t know.
Juggling “ums”, “erms” and “aahs” when struggling to avoid the truth.
It alienates, infuriates and generally makes those interviewed sound unprepared, uninformed, dense, almost uncouth.
But that doesn’t stop them!
The nation’s thirst for updates demands Government be contrite. Approaching difficult situations, yeh - but ours, dropping ******** left & right.
It means an address from a hapless minister almost every night.
Each department must have top aides quaking in their boots
because the media correspondents, incisive, sharp, erudite and firm
shoot tricky questions, deliberately, to make the politicos squirm.
It shines a light on what the country needs... clear thinking, logic common sense, honesty, truth, stealth and less guille.
Not subterfuge, not **** covering,“let’s dodge the bullet” style. Certainly not ten grand extra for having to work from home.
But sharper more contrition, put yourself in our place for a while! We want to be reassured, buoyed up, not consumed with bile.
You get more support and sympathy if you just tell the truth!
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 12:31 PM UTC