Politics: The New Olympic Sport

It is a blanket stitch-up action game

In which jumping without a parachute

Is the prominent future


No-one is expected to survive the land.


It is a guessing-game of telling tales and masking truth

A Call my Bluff involving desperate consequentials

Is all about destroying mended fences


Setting the people free, whether the people needed


It’s a guarantee and a jamboree for sinking ships

Displayed on a graph sequentially as national income

The dippy scoff at the dips diagrammatically reshaping


Tired pauper action trips to buffered trading zones


Here is a coin the currency in this trading game

It is of no value, it offers substantively no gain

It has no name


And no-one in charge presumes to lend it any weight


The name of the game in play: legerdemain inflation

Being subtitled: parade of bland stagnation

Prices are rising chasing unsurprising borrowing


On a dead-end street called ‘queer’


There’s rigmarole, and there’s much grey-suited mock confession

And bags of comforting unwarranted delusion

There’s certainly no solution


Being diligently, elegantly, sought for


There’s a host of squandered aces, vegetable talk

Being made the most of by the best designer libel folk

That’s all there is


All’s fudge


No-one has grip to clasp, no proper competence to grasp

A plan; no aptitude, dysfunction, semi-lassitude,

Resolves not one fragile slice of pumpernickel sandwich


A complete and hand-made handbag-fisted brass disaster

Gone over the top warfare with only sticking plaster



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *