The man stands there with the longest grimace
That crosses on over toward the grotesque.
His visage—that of a politician—
His lips travel northward into a grin,
Betraying his long playbook of deceit
As he sells a snake skin oil called power.
And in that ivory tower, power
Shoots itself up to that dreadful grimace,
Self-presenting as an innocent grin
That feels like the furthest thing from grotesque,
Maybe burlesque, but a politician
Who clings tight to his playbook of deceit.
True! It is in that playbook of deceit
The man strategizes his own power
To steer our sight away from the grotesque,
And lock the truth up behind the grimace
With an indomitable, plastic, grin
Still stretching across the politician.
There it is across the politician,
In a deadly web of voter deceit,
The man’s sinister and golden grimace
Plugs into an overreaching power
To turn common hope into the grotesque,
While still presenting that shit-eating grin.
And there it is, with that cold salesman’s grin,
The man, hiding he’s a politician
Through his saccharine promise of power,
Sells through performance the horrid deceit
To those held mesmerized by the grimace.
Damned, they shuffle to the tune of grotesque.
We’re confined to the grimace of grotesque,
Imprisoned within the man’s gruesome grin.
The devil’s in the details of deceit,
Preparing the stalking politician
To steal away all of our own power,
Supplanting it with an affixed grimace.
The long grimace of the politician
Remains forever the grin of grotesque.
Don’t ever exchange power for deceit.
© 2024 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: September 19th, 2024 07:19
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is a critique of political deception and manipulation, presented through vivid imagery and a complex modified sestina. While it addresses themes relevant to contemporary politics, it is not intended to favor any particular ideology or partisan viewpoint.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 9
Offline)
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