One vote, one rhyme
Mere weeks now before we'll at last have been polled,
invited from all of the options extolled
to choose with our crosses the people who’ll hold
[the] positions of power (they won’t ‘break the mould’).
They’ll whistle to scare us to stay in the fold
with views of the world that have long since grown cold:
[where] we’ll only be safe if the streets are patrolled
and [the] wealthy or poor (take your pick) are controlled
with [the] money that comes from the young, or the old,
and [the] proceeds from assets refinanced or sold
to anyone bearing a bucket of gold
(the handcuffs intended to shackle the bold).
Imagine if, somehow, by voting we told
the whole bloody lot – you’re no longer involved.