The Death of Democracy

The Death of Democracy

It whimpered.

                It’s tiny cry

                                A beacon of hope.

Strangled at birth

                By greed,

                                Power,

Arrogance,

                And disdain.

Buried

                Under a mound

                                Of lies.

Its ashes

                Spin

                                Spin

                                                Spin

In the machine

                Of power

                                Where the big dogs play.

All that’s left

                Is a game,

                                A hollow farce.

Spin,

                Lie,

                                Spin.

Play up! Play up!

                As the red meat

                                Of unlucky scapegoats

Is fed to the timid runts.

                Only the powerful

                                Count.

We are controlled

                Like mindless

                                Counters

                                                In a game

Of tiddly-winks.

Opher 18.1.2022

They play us for fools.

They think we will believe anything.

Our short attention spans are so limited.

Our forgetfulness makes us easy to manipulate.

We are being played.

They are good at it.

Only occasionally does their arrogance create a misstep.

The trouble is that they are right.

Too many of us are taken in by these smarmy conmen.

The game of power was never going to allow democracy to live.

Power lies in the hands of consummate liars.

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