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Poetry
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| Politics | |
| By Orlock | ||||
| 20 April 2008 | ||||
PoliticsHating the arena of words, the tortured smiles, the pretend friends, and diplomatic necessities of work, that can cut a man down and leave him to bleed in the sand. Keep smiling. It’s just a show. I want to strike the smoke and mirrors, and smash the claims and counter claims, the well chosen phrases, that lack sentiment and feeling, the premeditated lines, dangled to bait a specific reaction; to make or break a particular faction, all design and no heart. As we get older the artifice grows, Until we lose ourselves, in the flurry of blows. It’s impossible to calculate the calculated calculations, and miscalculations, premeditated and deliberate. Who is the finest actor? Who has the best poker face? Who will be left standing? Through all of this disgrace? Forget who you are. Become what you need to be to win. I hate you. I hate me. Not that I know what we are anymore. I hate that too. Keep smiling.
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