politic are we

as the two of painted stars, are we
forsaking all; the sun, the food, the free
through thick and thicker
sick and sicker
yes, we are
guzzling car

as the two mornings of another place
sitting with rats in a race
the hit parade
a missile charade
yes, we can
melanoma tan

as the two hands of birds, in a bush
injecting the political rush
no matter how young the flesh
the air how fresh
yes, we trust
needs must

©2006 Hey Hey

g`day hey hey, dark humour with a sprinkling of sweet and sour, just the shot, an excellent read, keep well as always greg.

I love the wordplay at play here, my friend; somehow my favorite among many memorable moments is "sitting with rats in a race." It reminds me of being stuck in traffic, racing to nowhere at the speed of nothing.

I always enjoy your poetry.

Respect and solidarity,

+Stevie