The Poet And The Politician

Always somebody with the agenda,

chair in the corner

for recording minutes;

too many egos to contend with.

Organisation gives birth

to amnesia,

idealist globs of toothpaste

circling the drain.

The crazy paving splinters

good intentions

and still the minutes

being taken, all eyes on

the tedious clock as

time diminishes plans.

Changes compromised

in the bid for popularity;

[everybody smile]

appealingly human

leaflets shoved through

indifferent letterboxes,

in-between meetings

where others anticipate

shouting you down

for the hell of it.

Nursing a pint of trendy ale

in a draughty working man’s pub,

you’re left to wonder

when did this lick of power

start to resemble

sucking on batteries.

 

Passive activity kicks Whingeing’s arse.

Ideas plagiarised from dystopian novels

a maggoty mass in the mind,

half-formed voices growing louder as

they multiply; aggressive despair the sole option.

Poking at nests that repulse

only leaves me exposed, stung by a lesson

worthy of Aesop, a publishable proverb

…and doesn’t that awaken eager instincts:

the hunt, the chase…is it Waterstones

I desire to reign, or merely

the ears of several moody figures in black

squinting through the smoke; actual

attention instead of feigned interest

whilst composing their own performance?

I relish the thought of all those

“Told you so”s, and maybe

cringe at the cliché of bearded bard

in a badge-adorned blazer, thus

unlearned, unwilling and uninspired

I  remain, wasting forests in my

quests to raise

environmental awareness

…and myself to literary stardom.

 

 

The Ten o’ Clock News

radiates achievement;

applause and cat-calls

all constructive.

Stepping from cars into

the flashing dazzle of stories

corrupting purpose,

which can be dismissed

if you hoist your

rucksack of burden

into a sturdier position

upon proud shoulders.

Waking each morning

to the alarm clock

beeping responsibility and

reforms that can

actually be implemented.

Longing for the day you

can look back on

this church hall

mobilised with empty chairs,

a few haggard constituents

seated, arms folded, at the

back - all determined

to regale their

caring representatives

with personal trivia,

demands regarding whether

they can smoke;

dragging all down into

a gulf

of debate, which erodes

ten minutes.

The tea here is weaker

than your resolve.

                                But only just.

 

 

Other poets are better than I am,

and no one would care if I told them;

certain words not considered capable

of changing the world. Similes

and sibilance not comparable to

a truce, a truce:

papers scrawled with future betrayal,

because when you’re dealing with people

it’s all back-and-forth.

A moose is a moose, is a mouse in a House

where compassion is not enough

 to endear you to peers;

they want policies and Plan B’s

…insurance. So you scrabble

and scramble while I furiously

fast-forward dictionary

and thesaurus, searching for the alternative

phrases. Everyone’s so ambitious

and “no, thank you” isn’t an option

so I stay home and smoke

each Election,

struggling with themes and my dissatisfaction;

surrendering emancipation.

 

 

Songwriters and poets

throw out a few concepts

to stir citizen interest,

but the few books

they’ve read are

biased or flawed.

One stanza on poverty

or an anti-war chorus

generates general dissatisfaction

but no actual information,

so concerts and reading groups

are brimming with ignorance,

and these people en masse

are accessorized with it

at elections.

Each single sold, or

poem filed away

in a bulging portfolio

does not equate

a feasible solution.

The fans may call

it political,

enjoying reactionary produce,

but really ‘artists’

are just critical

on principle;

attempting to ignite a damp fuse

when sex fails to sell.

 

 

The aim of the Greats may well have been fame,

but the pedestal’s heights failed to tame

urges to engage the reader; whereas political intent is

driven underground  by that siren, Career.

You make your mark by changing lives,

for better or worse, loosening the purse strings

at will, denying the individual this and that;

drastic action, as opposed to attention to detail,

is what wins you headlines or a mention in

textbooks. Each rung of the ladder saps

ideals, attacking your Achilles heels – be it salary

or popularity – so that the entire point

of your persistence is chipped away like goodness

by the chisel of arrogance; empty declarations

will only buy temporary loyalty from ‘your’ citizens.

Lest you forget what you set out to improve,

we’ll train our collective  focus on the truth.

You may have passed the interview,

but, as your new employers, we expect value

in return for trust.

 

Author's Note

I'm hoping to make this a bit longer, if inspiration ever hits again.
Some constructive review questions:
a) Do the narrative voice styles stay consistent (for each of the two speakers, not for the whole thing)?
b) Does the rhyming work ok in the poet's final five lines?
c) Is there anything wrong with this piece? I'll be grateful for any thoughts.

Thanks.

Reviews

[Bubo]

Powerful piece..............a very political piece full of disillusionment and so many
words outlining the way most politicians work and elections.
I'm not a political person at all and don't tend to follow............but reading your
words I saw more here than any man standing in the houses of Parliament shouting
a load of T**s!
Brilliant..............I can't see a thing needs changing at all..............

By the way I have my read requests off as I was getting sometimes 50 a day!
So just comment me and I'll be right here.

[Cope Hayden]

Interesting satire. I'd like to see you make this longer. Also i would change the word "popularity" to "place"(or something of the like). That is just me though. The 5 syllabals in that word kind of wreck the natural flow of the poem. I suggest you submit this to my contest "Tories and Wigs- Oh My!"

[Aaron J. Wald]

I read this poem twice because I am really tired at the moment.

I read this..."A moose is a moose, is a mouse in a House " and I thought you wrote a mouse is a house. sooo....I will say it's an excelant poem... but I have a case of temporary dyslexia at the moment... it will pass after sleep. I enjoyed it very much. But I also am so tired that my eyes are drooping onto my desk and are flourecent red. I probably am rambling on and on on how tired I am.... so I shall stop typing as soon as I can. (and I probably have mispelled alot...so I'm very sad about that.)

[Dominick]

I now have a few one liners that will stick to memory for quite some time now. The wordings of the key phrases to which I can relate are eloquently done:
�idealist globs of toothpaste circling the drain�
�start to resemble sucking on batteries�
Those were an excellent surprise to read/

�stung by a lesson worthy of Aesop� � I haven�t heard a comparison like that in ages. Thank you.

What a cleaver way to describe such monotony:
�Waking each morning
to the alarm clock
beeping responsibility and
reforms that can
actually be implemented.�

�A moose is a moose, is a mouse in a House� � You know I had to comment the Dr. Sues like rhyme

I especially found it very refreshing how use used the Italics to break it into parts. Your vocabulary allows for many unique descriptions and simile opportunities that you executed to its full potential. And of course I can�t forget to mention it is a topic that you also don�t see much in the poetry realm.


Spelling to possible correct:
Organisation - Organization
plagiarised � plagiarized
so�s � the quote should be an apostrophe
mobilised - mobilized

[Bryce Simonds]

Whoa. And you want to make this longer? Whoa. I wish I could write half as much as this and still have it be considered great! I'm jealous, great job.

[Michael Carr]

loved it. one of my fav from you. tense and humorous at the same time.
great balance to the two voices, each unique and both filled with great imagery.
excellent job boylan!

[Wulfstan Crumble]

1

An interesting first stanza. The situation that you paint could be about so many things including this caf�. Of course it could very well be the nature of any organisation. The truth of the sentiment can reflect almost any situation in our minds from school classes to Westminster.

Another interesting thing in this is the characters or basic stereotypes. Though, you provide too little information to be a proper stereotype. For example the egos are everywhere. Splattered all over the place. Idealist globs of Toothpaste is really interesting. Why toothpaste? Toothpaste seeks to protect and clean. Its also fresh and minty. Often it is green. Any coincidence? Lol. Circling the drain reminds me of Dante�s inferno with its circles of hell.

The minutes being taken could refer simply to the fact that anything done is recorded. There does not have to be a secretary present if this poem refers to something online. Anything done online is recorded.

�where others anticipate
shouting you down
for the hell of it.�

- Of the stanza I thought this bit didn�t quite flow for me. Maybe

�where others anticipate
Then shout you down
For the hell of it.�

I thought that maybe the then would link the two sentences better without messing with the syllable count. I like the pub reference� pub philosophy and all. Its where the real philosophy occurs.

Your first stanza will make us think which one of those types are we.

2

The second voice is much different. It is more� how to say? Wordy. From maggots to Waterstones. Nice. There is a lot of grossness in this stanza. Words of disgust?


I desire to reign, or merely
the ears of several moody figures in black
squinting through the smoke; actual
attention instead of feigned interest
whilst composing their own performance?

Aha, here we are. A poet to reign, a poet-politician, one and the same. Feigned interest�hmm, so interest used to garner interest in ones own poem. Tit for tat. In such a world as this caf� then that is how things must work I guess. It is the nature of the beast� for, if one does not review or show interest then who will know about my poetry or stories? A good poem will not instantly become recognised because who is there to see it. This is the thought of my two poems from yesterday. Reviewing what looks good is one thing but, its easier to review those you know to be good. Much harder to sift through the rest to find those gems� but, they sure are worth it. Are they not?

�corrupting purpose,� - the most important line and why most politicians cannot change the world.

Hence my point to you about Orators. Orators can change things because they inspire. No one reads poets, no one trusts politicos but the orator has the language, the charm and the charisma to change the world.

�beeping responsibility and
reforms that can
actually be implemented.�
- another Aha, so, practicality overrides ideology (unless you are GW Bush).

�The tea here is weaker
than your resolve.
But only just.�
- Now that made me laugh.

�Other poets are better than I am,
and no one would care if I told them;�
- most would love to be told how great they are. But, do they possess the humility to disagree?

�certain words not considered capable
of changing the world. Similes
and sibilance not comparable to
a truce, a truce:�
- It is not what you say, but who says it and how that counts. You are kind of right though. What is the secret to good oratory? Simplicity mixed with the inspirational.


�papers scrawled with future betrayal,
because when you�re dealing with people
it�s all back-and-forth.�
- What kind of betrayal do you mean?

to endear you to peers;
they want policies and Plan B�s
- people always want more and more. Compassion and understanding is not enough. People want exactly what they want without being able to appreciate effort.

You can continue this, why not a part 2 in the style of Plato?

You said this was about a friend and you. Politico and poet. But, the two could be part of the same whole. The whole being the caf�. There are the politics, behind the scenes, on the forums and comment pages and then there are the true poets. Personally I think you are the true poet. I am someone who sees things and often write as a reaction, I also have a history of being in student politics, associations and have been representatives for many things as well as a manager of a shop (at which I failed utterly). It could be said that I care too much about these things. The idealist? Possibly, hopefully not an egotist or s**t stirrer. How would you classify yourself?

Who would change the world more? The poet or the politician?

[Bernie Shelton]

this nothing short of excellent