Nothing so abrades the soul, overheats
The fragile texture of our blooded flesh,
As an election. For two years, the bleats
Of candidates provoke, obscure, enmesh—
Create a holocaust of verbiage,
A sticky spider’s web, a dismal mire
Of charge and countercharge, false images,
Misdirection, obfuscation, plain lies.
“Your middle name’s Hussein!” “You pal around
With terrorists!” “You’d talk to enemies
(Just to avoid a war)!” “You’re tightly wound!”
Like a beached fish, you flip flop flip to please
The ignorant, the stunted, who devote
Their lives to mythic hate, and yet, can vote.
Democracy’s become a wormy thing—
I’d trade it for one enlightened despot
Or, perhaps, a well-educated king.
(11/2/08)