Political Poetry
I've been reinvigorated in my writing through the fellowship of my creative-minded friends in our little HP Writers' group, and so I thought I would periodically put up some of the writing I've been sharing. Here is a little fun I had with recent political headlines.
Sitting alone, Starbucks in hand, groovin’ on a Super Tuesday night.
Feeling excited, though the quirks of our pugilistic primary system
Mean that lazy Washington will be ludicrously late to this fight.
So as a mere observer, attempting to stay in tune with the political rhythm,
My thoughts drift as the candid candidates’ campaigns coalesce;
This year my natural interest in the science of politics has been renewed
With each lecture I presented, with each cunning conundrum put to rest,
I raced my own lofty logic to stress my pupils’ future rights, so imbued
Though distant now, I seek to model meticulous mollification of mendacious
Politicians; narrowing the field is difficult with stories so scandalously salacious.
Preserving the status quo: a demonstrably difficult task of delegate debauchery.
The clock has barely begun, yet erstwhile establishment candidates
Deliriously dazed, debate their dubious demise amid technocratic treachery.
Kasich meanders the middle, moping on moderation, a hollow call to the fates,
While the scion of the Bush clan has given way to those with energy; “Please clap.”
Chopped down before his shoots saw a spring season, yet many opponents
Across the aisle view his campaign an eternity, having quit on their first lap.
Republicans ruefully rush out to reenergize robotic Rubio’s rusted components,
While Democrats hesitatingly hail hubristic Hillary’s high-stepping jaunt;
Perhaps I should see what the self-proclaimed outsiders have to flaunt
Canadian Cruz careens crazily along conservative creases, creepily off-putting,
Yet competing with Carson to clip and collect callused Christians’ votes.
While he rationalizes sparse and meager victories, it is clear that his footing
Is quite shaky; obstinate, obstreperous outbursts are too much for fair folks.
I tick off the names, and now am down to a pair with vividly contrasting hair:
A shock of white sits atop New England’s Sanders, as he rages against inequality
While Trump’s resplendently red toupee has driven bewildered pundits to despair.
Bizarrely united in their grasp of the deep discontent of class-based misery,
“Socialist” Sanders “Berns” brightly, hero to the legendarily lethargic millennial electorate,
As the bemused Trump boisterously bloviates, giving the masses their desired opiate.
The second hand pluckily pushes past midnight, and I am left at this hour so late
To contemplate whether my fellow Americans seek revolutionary change or a better tax rate;
To wonder if electing the status quo will continue gridlock and hyperpluralist debate;
To hope that clarity gives way to justice, allowing the supremes to clear their slate;
To empathize with the kindred spirits of immigrants, facing walls built with hate;
To cynically laugh at the asinine assertion that politicians could ever Make America Great
"America: The Greatening"
By Anthony Ikehara
Sitting alone, Starbucks in hand, groovin’ on a Super Tuesday night.
Feeling excited, though the quirks of our pugilistic primary system
Mean that lazy Washington will be ludicrously late to this fight.
So as a mere observer, attempting to stay in tune with the political rhythm,
My thoughts drift as the candid candidates’ campaigns coalesce;
This year my natural interest in the science of politics has been renewed
With each lecture I presented, with each cunning conundrum put to rest,
I raced my own lofty logic to stress my pupils’ future rights, so imbued
Though distant now, I seek to model meticulous mollification of mendacious
Politicians; narrowing the field is difficult with stories so scandalously salacious.
Preserving the status quo: a demonstrably difficult task of delegate debauchery.
The clock has barely begun, yet erstwhile establishment candidates
Deliriously dazed, debate their dubious demise amid technocratic treachery.
Kasich meanders the middle, moping on moderation, a hollow call to the fates,
While the scion of the Bush clan has given way to those with energy; “Please clap.”
Chopped down before his shoots saw a spring season, yet many opponents
Across the aisle view his campaign an eternity, having quit on their first lap.
Republicans ruefully rush out to reenergize robotic Rubio’s rusted components,
While Democrats hesitatingly hail hubristic Hillary’s high-stepping jaunt;
Perhaps I should see what the self-proclaimed outsiders have to flaunt
Canadian Cruz careens crazily along conservative creases, creepily off-putting,
Yet competing with Carson to clip and collect callused Christians’ votes.
While he rationalizes sparse and meager victories, it is clear that his footing
Is quite shaky; obstinate, obstreperous outbursts are too much for fair folks.
I tick off the names, and now am down to a pair with vividly contrasting hair:
A shock of white sits atop New England’s Sanders, as he rages against inequality
While Trump’s resplendently red toupee has driven bewildered pundits to despair.
Bizarrely united in their grasp of the deep discontent of class-based misery,
“Socialist” Sanders “Berns” brightly, hero to the legendarily lethargic millennial electorate,
As the bemused Trump boisterously bloviates, giving the masses their desired opiate.
The second hand pluckily pushes past midnight, and I am left at this hour so late
To contemplate whether my fellow Americans seek revolutionary change or a better tax rate;
To wonder if electing the status quo will continue gridlock and hyperpluralist debate;
To hope that clarity gives way to justice, allowing the supremes to clear their slate;
To empathize with the kindred spirits of immigrants, facing walls built with hate;
To cynically laugh at the asinine assertion that politicians could ever Make America Great
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