The Great political mirror by (Hala) AL-Logaha Hand
Ask me if a map smokes?
revealing several spots on teeth of leaves and trees
it is a lapse of voter’s pleas
shall they run again?
A fourth and final time or so we hope
pastel pleats reverse the way
selecting an inspector 29’s tiles
won’t you wait just a while
it is a tricep in a crisis
crisper than a tasty treat
can’t you retreat indigently
protest marker we stand aware on an Arab Spring
in a secret erected tower we stare
then they ask the question-where and when will power stop grinding its eager beaver teeth and come to a crunching end
spirals of peace is restless
the government hands out favors
a relic of the past-how long will it last?
the handcrafted clerk will wear a garlanded frock
will it still pay to have a dividend then
a flagrant look at checks and balances
it etches the character of grand golf strokes
frankly, they say gold speaks louder than words
and to whom is this strike on humanity to be blamed?
so crack the chalked cloth open wide and look inside
did the arched ranch have a crystal chandelier?
oh dear-over paid and underworked
we should all digress to such base means
just glance at the chart and see who is the winner?
did you charge Frank what Hart would have paid?
it is the monk’s cue to a square root of a sunken treasure chest
who will claim it and rule the world?
where are the saints when we need them?
it is a tax write off that widely exceeds expectations
hoping for time to stand still
-a grandfather clock shakes awake an old man in arms
where can a rat eat and a mouse cheat?
except with under the table wages
for us we are reminded of a discreet insider secret’s war as a lust for power
it is a sacrifice made fine on a silver platter
what does it matter?
i say it once with a strong voice
it should never be replaced or denied again
yet these stories are the same for time immemorial
it doesn’t take a millionaire to know
we all see the same sun setting
so in the spring, freedom rings and our voice is heard throughout the endless herds
till tomorrow we sing
our foot one marker to the ground