Dedicated, not to our leaders who are true, but to the politicians whose salaries we pay…
abrupt overnight profusion of posters
wanted for your ward placards
(just like in the untamed west)
and brash erectioneering
pimping gimmicks and gadgets -
legalising abortion – what is our cut
procuring peaceful war machines – what is our cut
serving beetroot and African potato - what is our cut
ignoring Baba Robert up north – what is our cut
unequal non-equal equality – what is our cut
unrascist non-racist racism – what is our cut
but your Honour – what is our cut…
when voting
pick your prick
a mistaken cross
(not a tick; get it?)
once erected
some proud members,
huge in stature
stand to be counted
many, less endowed, flaccid
bald head down in the back benches
some swapping parties
some swapping partners
some swapping conjugal rights
for very adult childish games
those upstanding
discuss
pubic amenities
tax cuts
the unkindest cut of all
circumscribe, the cock and bull
while others just work
on keeping up with the Zumas
(quite hard to do… no really!)
at the end of the day
politicians are just like penises:
for the most part – unavailable,
shrouded behind zippers with
two indolent guards just hanging around
at pubic expense
promising big things, but
on delivery
frequently rather disappointing
frequently shooting from the hip
frequently missing the whole –
point
frequently abandoning pregnant pauses
and many bastardised laws
and, mostly, the public get exactly what they want -
after lame pick-up lines,
productive propositioning,
stripping off the truth,
a little fumbling and foreplay,
then voted into orifice –
we get soundly screwed
oh - and the biggest prick usually wins anyway!
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