Poetry

99.

I’ve got 99 problems, or maybe I don’t, but I have at least a few
though they don’t bother me much.
If the motor goes out, where’s the motivation?
Is this even a motivated voter nation?
I don’t think so.
I take it back, that’s a little unfair;
some folks are very motivated,
I just forget they’re there.
There there, it will be all right.
All right, that is, unless people like me
get to the polls on time
send their mail ballots in time.
Ah, I’ve gotten political.
And poetical.
Poetilitical?
Poelitical, a term describing one who only votes
for someone who reminds them of Edgar Allan Poe.
If I embrace this new terminology, I might be able
to vote with my conscience.
At least, I’ll be conscious of the fact
that I lean toward leaders who
probably don’t want power in the first place.
But to stop this world from becoming the worst place,
these reluctant politicians
accept a modicum of power
and wield it with good intent.
What goods are in the tent?
Probably food, shelter, and dental care for all.
I would attend such a circus,
if it reaches the biggest little city along its circuit.
I don’t need a pretty mouth to make myself heard,
but damn,
I sure would like one.
Vote with your gums,
stop the blood.
Even 1% plaque presence is enough
to start rot and decay.
Floss the system,
vote the mess away.

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