From the cosmic dunes where stardust sways,
I observe your earthbound, peculiar ways.
An election! Oh my, how the chatter grows,
Two shysters poised in their mortal pose.
From the red corner, a muttering breeze,
“Ineffectual” whispers through eucalyptus trees.
A shyster cloaked in well-rehearsed guise,
With promises fluttering like magpies’ lies.
And the blue corner, my heavens, take note,
An arrogance sharper than a goat’s sore throat.
Divisive and brash, with a smug, curt grin,
This shyster, too, peddles hollow spin.
Mon dieu! The celestial camel sighs,
Why must democracy be built on such lies?
Million suns whisper clearer intent
Than these hollow men grasping for consent.
The people, alas, queue in weary despair,
Clutching their votes like prayers to the air.
Spoiled for choice? Oh, far from divine –
Pick the pestilence or the poison vine.
O mortal folk, with your sausage sizzles,
Why must your ballots be riddles of riddles?
From my cosmic perch, this game seems quaint –
A carnival of devils disguised as saints.
The wheel spins again, who’s the bigger con?
The camel stares long; then the camel moves on.
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