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Poetry
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Polling Station
By Talisker
26 April 2007
A Niagara Falls of worn out rhetoric

explodes upon rocks of apathy

 

Hackneyed, clichéd,  calcified promises,

like the brittle bones of aged stuntmen,

re-fused and then refused again

 

Lakes of syrupy smiles feed rivers

of foaming smarminess, leaching lies

from fields of poisonous ambition

 

Greed has run to seed

Idealism? A weed to be eradicated

No place for organic humanity

down at the polling station.

 

Oli 25/04/07

Reviews

Written by Phil (7001 comments posted) 25th April 2007
God, so what are we to do? With you all the way on this. Self serving, grandstanding tosspots of the first order - and I think that's the best of them. The problem is, I'm the type that'll vote for monkey with a red rosette and then worry about it later. I can't bring myself to think about politics on a national (or even local) scale anymore without going beyond the hate and bile caused by the last Tory government. The Labour party get away with so much because the ones that went before and are now waiting in the wings were and are a closed club of wealthy, selfish, screw-you merchants, it doesn't bear thinking about what devestation five years of them will do. So local elections don't matter? Possibly not too much - but they can encourage the right. 
 
So endeth my political broadcast and I offer my apologies for it now. Your piece certainly got me thinking and ranting. 
 
Phil.

Written by stevetroster (1601 comments posted) 26th April 2007
Do you mean to say that you actually get to see politicians at your local poling station? 
All that you get around my area is the occasional piece of political junk mail stuffed through your letterbox. Politicians are so rare where I live, that a group of local residents have set up a ‘jerkers’ group to try and spot them out in the wild. 
Jerkers are similar to ‘twitchers’, but their spasmodic contractions are more exaggerated. 
They hide in the bushes and undergrowth, trying to spot red-chested wafflers and blue-tits. 
They got very exited on one occasion when they thought that they had spotted a monster-raving-loony outside of a local school that was acting as a poling station, however it turned out to be just an aging nightclub owner 
who was dropping of his girlfriend for her art class. 
 
I agree with Phil: Thinking & Ranting, it's what we do best! 
Regards 
Steve. 

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