poetry politics

Whilst they watch the fireworks

Of course it is an experiment,

The sun never set

On us

And so we have a Petri dish

Infected with democratic process

All the choices


A dream big as King Kong

Taller than the tower he climbed

Beautiful as the woman he carried

Results are beyond initial parameters

And people don’t laugh at them

Nations have darkened for

An offhand act of tradecraft

They even spy on us

But the subjects are

Awarded all the freedom a cage allows

Still, when I go there,

I wonder if it will bottleneck

If it’s a dream which is killing

It or a nightmare

Squabbling over professional slights

And genuine primal pain

Blueprints of histrionics

Written in ink and blood.

They’re beautiful

Even if they’re torn between

Looking up