‘No’ to Arrested Development

See how she sits in her high chair,

Obedient child to the last,

See how she sups up her porridge,

Flavoured with history past.

 

See how she spits out the spoonful,

Proferred by patronage hand,

See how she picks up her own now,

Infancy making a stand.

 

See how she learns from endeavour,

As natural an act as can be,

See how she grows to an adult,

Independent, self-nourished and free.

 

See how some children, retarded

By parents who will not let go,

Develop arrested behaviours,

Damaged by some who don’t know

 

That nothing is worth being stuck there,

Harnessed in chair like a child.

It breaks under pressure from fairy tales,

Sometimes we’re born to be wild.

 

Wild as the woad on our faces

When history wrote out our path,

But timing is now, and with courage,

Freedom not given, we grasp

 

The spoon from the parent who knows not

A whit of development’s way.

Our children are free as a nation, come

September 18th, ‘Yes!’, Independence Day.

The Polis

Quite distressing,

Watching news,

So many different

Points of views,

Seeking all to

Contradict,

Never missing

Any trick

To overthrow

Or undermine

Credibility.

 

Lying or being

Colourful with truth,

Quite a message

For our youth.

Give us your vote

On ballot paper,

Won’t screw you now,

We’ll wait till later.

Once confidence

And seats

Are ours.

Now we’re in

A Celebration!

We’ll fix this lot

The whole damn nation.

We’ve got a plan

Just wait and see

We like to call it

Policy.

It’s changed a bit

From just before

Election.

 

The trouble is

Now that we’re in,

We have to deal;

We call it spin.

Shaving truth

From here and there.

We’re cuddly still,

A hairless bear,

With claws

And teeth

That bite.

But, worry not,

We won’t bite you,

You’re one of us.

Well ain’t that true?

I voted, yes,

I put my mark,

My little cross,

My vital spark

Believing,

Trusting in

Democracy.

I feel though, that

I’m standing by

While you get rich

And pass us by,

Pissing up against

Our legs,

Doling out to us

The dregs.

While bankers

Wanked

And walked.

 

Strange, misplaced,

This trust you urged.

Some view the process

As absurd,

When what is said

And what appears

Mismatch. The policy

Disappears.

There’s egg

On all

Our faces.

 

Still, better than

Dictatorship

Or feudal lords

Who, fortune stripped

From workers

Ploughing in the field

Theirs the effort

Yours, the yield.

Oh, wait, that

Seems quite

Similar.

 

A paper mark

Means nothing more

If once you’re in

You shut the door

On faces who

Extolled your worth.

Who’s laughing now?

Oh, you. Such mirth.

You’ve conned

Us all

Again.

 

Honesty?,

I’m so naïve.

I listen and

Sometimes, believe

The shit you say,

You pose and preach.

We are all

Just out of reach

Of mattering

To you.

And other you.

 

Not much to choose from

I see that clear,

With clarity

Not dowsed in beer

That’s taxed

To death

Like everything

That’s left.

Which is

Not much

At all.

 

So, what’s my choice?

Should I abstain?

Refuse to take part

Once again?

Or trust that one day,

Maybe soon,

An upright man

Will fly from moon

And work

To serve

The job and people.

 

Excuse me if I don’t

Hold my breath,

Not ready yet

For certain death.

Is this what Aristotle

Meant

When speaking

Of a government?

I don’t

Think so.

 

video.php?v=1426346570923848&set=vb.100006455577938&type=2&theater#