Wednesday, March 26, 2014

The harrowing hustings,

I’m going to the hustings,
And I’m busting to be thrusting
My party’s ideas
Into your ear.

I will praise the perfection,
That will immediately be detected,
When this shower
Comes to power
And problems will melt away
Like icebergs or glaciers,
If this lot get elected
To the local council here.

In a school or in a church hall,
With three or four other hopefuls,
Who will each stand and say
In our own charming ways
That the other two or three
Embody incompetency
And delusion and confusion,
And are, in fact,  bags full
Of pure political pus,

Unlike us,
Because we are, you see
Bold, brave, clear sighted and free
And how good it will all be
If you just elected us.


We’ll take questions
And pretend to listen attentively,
as through gritted teeth,
We grin.
At the foolish, fools and bigots,
Who might just be
Voting for us.

And after the hustings are over
And when we’ve consumed the tea
Or the other hospitality,
And the biscuits are all crumbs,
We’ll go back to being humans
And cease from selling snake oil
From a platform in a church hall,
And stand in a queue in the drizzle

Waiting for a bus.

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