Imperfections in Our Elections

They all line up
Like predatory pups
All eager for the prize
Which no one can deny
can reverberate like
A migraine between the eyes…


They call it going for the gold
This contest for one’s soul
But all it may do
Is make one prematurely old


What’s it about?
Natural Selection?
Some impossible confection?
Or something equally fuzzy
Like the National Election;


Someone heard the starter’s guns
And the reporters,
Hungry for blood
Are already quoting blunders
And puns….


For many, it may seem
That there’s no beginning
Or end
But an endless bend
That punishes the young
And the old to ttheir fate
To which they commit,
And do not hesitate


So why would anyone aspire
To submit oneself
To something quite so dire…
The field already looks crowded
And while we’re about it
With candidates who for some
Are already doubted….



For the first time in nearly twenty years
The end of Bushes
Will not bring tears…
There are candidates
From both parties
Who began this thing
Feeling quite lively
And are already wondering what
Have I done
To sink so far
To get it won….



The front runners do indeed
Do look impaled upon their steed…
There is one, a military ace,
Whose used to torture
During the chase…



Another, mayor for awhile
Was known to never smile
Yet, in the face of obloquy
A hero turned out he…



Another, who yearns for the prize
Is considered by many the wisest of the wise
For saying only things that are only safe
Is one way to win the race…


Still another came late to the scene
Who’s been berated
/And patently deflated
For being less t han he seems
Yet, fresh and new…
With no ablutions due
Among those who know
He reflects a golden glow

Unmarked and true
It remains to be seen
Whether he remains
The ultimate dream…



There are senators and UN delegates
Who may discover
That there’s more than they planned
On their plates…
And they’d best their time
On more productive debates…


One is know for his witty retorts
And a cadre
Of worthy cohorts…
But he’s already mispoke
When he spoke of another
As if he were a joke….
With apologies due
His chances he did skew



A couple we know little about
Except that they’re candidates
Who showed up for the bout
When all is said and done
The very likelihood is
That one of them
Will have won



So the process
Goes on unabated
With many egos
Punctured or
Soon to be Deflated,
It seems to be
To that which
we are fated.

We hope the outcome
Will make us proud
Or at least get us out
From behind
This impenetrable cloud…
Inserted Above our heads
By the Clean House crowd
Attacked for hubris
By Margaret Dowd


And let us pray
For Republicans in denial
That Not all of them
Will have to go on trial…


Les Aaron
The Armchair Curmudgeon