Election Year Poem by Charles Karia

Its that terrible year again,
And I swear by hook and by crook,
I have to retain my magical goose,
That pecks the tiny street man,
And out pops off the golden eggs

"Son, start with a gift to astrologers
Then go to the witchdoctor's shrine
Then take a gift to the church-
And other places with altars;
Let them share my dark cake"

"I have been dreaming of a house.
And a powerful beast of a car,
The hot machines now worthy,
Of a man of my stature and style,
And this election year is the time"

A marriage of convenience hatches,
Traitors' oozing ecstasies of lust,
Clothed in flattery and poisoned hope,
Now converge at the once holy altar,
Where angels once ministered healing.

The hire of a harlot is cursed,
Never to enter treasury of God,
And so are those with no loyalty,
To the kingdom or God's creation,
But only to their god the belly.

Let Elisha speak:
For the Syrian politician and warlord-
The famed leprosy laden lord.
Him did he visit with a great need
Which had nothing to do with worship.

"The man was a man not a demon,
So I healed him in an act of mercy,
Though many were sins in his belly,
But for his sweat, silver and gold?
Not in the ministrytreasury.

Let Gehazi speak:
For it was this clever acolyte,
That took the wages of sin,
And hence became the scape goat,
Of the Syrian war hound.

"Short my pained speech will be;
I lusted for a dress to look the part,
And gold to erect my house,
So people would respect my trade,
But his leprosy clung to me"