Balloteers

Rock and roll, all voters !
Staunch and floaters, poor and wealthy –
To the fuss-and-tussle hustings jamboree !
Bring the kids and bring the dogs,
Let’s throng with hacks from press and blogs
To jeer the speeches, snap the selfies,
Make them promise jam for tea –
Then talk with wonks and rebel Scots,
And mix with toffs and flat-capped Trots.
Let’s join the jostle and bus the bustle,
And get on down to the hustings hustle.

But it’s never like that these days.
Our candidates are scrambled through
A mesh of endless screens,
That changes all the red to blue
And filters out the golds and greens
Till all that’s left are greys.
They rarely need to meet the public,
Rarely let us have our say –
There’s just too many unelected journos in the way !

No wonder disillusionment is growing –
But no !  That’s what they want of us !
We mustn’t be intimidated by the charging battle-bus.
Don’t be ashamed of floating or don’t-knowing,
Thoughtful contemplation never was a crime –
Just make sure that you make it to the booth on time !
For I don’t care who gets your vote,
As long as someone gets your vote –
Be they protest, status quo, or loony-fringers.
Don’t buy their apathetic spin,
Or else we let the cynics win –
A can’t-be-arsed electorate of impotents and whingers.

For ours is the power, ours the law,
My fellow voters !
We aren’t just humble peasants stood in awe
Before our lords –
We’re citizens – not subjects,
Nor statistics, blips or quotas –
We’re individual voters,
And not meek amorphous hordes.
We’re millions of voices making millions of choices,
With our pencils mightier than any swords.

So roll up, you voters !  Shake a leg !
It’s time to give a damn !  With me !
Let’s make the bloody buggers beg –
Let’s rock this hustings jamboree !

A Public Service Announcement

I am your God

I make the sun rise.  I control fate.
To me the credit for all that is great.
Know that my worth is a thousand of you,
And yet I descended to share what I knew.
This world I remade in my image agleam,
From antediluvian law and regime –
And now ev’ry crisis since my rise to rule,
Is legacy still of that tenancy cruel.
But I have delivered unto you, my flock,
For I’m your All-Knowing, Infallible rock.
And I have the Power, the Knowledge, the Plan
Of fiscal and social beyond wit of man.
Yet do not presume to inquiry my ways,
Don’t ponder my motives, don’t question who pays.
Just pray for my blessing, and so bring to pass
A life for the better in safe Middle-Class.

But they…they…

They make it rainy.  They bring you down.
They are the Demons who covet my crown.
For their ev’ry plan is most evil and wicked –
They take all your hopes and your dreams and they stick it
And quash your beliefs as they freight them with dread,
Then charm you to dream of their visions instead.
They promise you ev’rything better their way
At just half the price that you currently pay.
And, yes, it is true, how their glamours beguile,
With pretty predictions and invectious bile –
They smear my almighty with heretic slander,
With scandal and intrigue and base propaganda.
But since I am perfect, we must remain strong –
They cannot be right, for I cannot be wrong.
For I am your god, your elected divine –
It’s never my fault when the sun doesn’t shine.

The Hustings Shuffle

Promises promised, but not to be kept –
They know it, we know it, and they know we know –
But it must be this way – it is what we expect.

Their promises come and their promises go –
We want to believe but we try to resist,
And say to ourselves that it’s only a show.

Their policies spin and their arguments twist –
We’re warned of the dangers their rivals equate –
Then hands must be shaken and babies be kissed.

We try to engage and we try to debate,
And try to remember it’s us who’s the boss,
Just looking for servants to tend to the state.

They beam out the smiles that they sharpen with floss,
They pose for our photos and laugh at our jokes,
And feel for our anger and pity our loss.

They tell us and tell us they’re average folks
From average backgrounds with average smarts,
Who love to get down with us ordin’ry blokes.

Beware their seductions, their flattering arts
That promise the world if our trust they may borrow –
We give up our votes and they crush our green hearts.

They leave us defiled and they show us no sorrow,
They love us today and they jilt us tomorrow.

The Only Poll That Matters

I wish I could urge you to vote with your hearts,
But alas, it’s all just a game –
It forces us each to the cynical arts
Of tactical voting and blame.
Supposing, just for the day,
We lost our hate, we lost our fear ?
Then, no matter who won, I say
The revolution would be here.
But until, don’t give them an inch –
Let’s make them guess and sweat and pinch,
And keep your ballot confidential,
Share it only with the pencil.
No rosettes and no balloons –
And lie, lie, lie to the pollsters’ goons.