CARNEVALE

Picture Courtesy www.armchair-fan.webs.com


Nothing more than
A game of musical chairs,
A confused and frenetic
State of affairs,
With different costumes
And speeches paraded every time,
Either way,
Someone always gets the nod,
Some better than others,
Others stink so badly
You'd think you were in a fish market.
The carnival always comes to town,
Never late,
Always on time,
Just tick off your calendars,
On the last month of the fourth year,
They always come to town.


In no time they pack up the circus,
Show’s over,
Briefcases and colourful ties
Take the places of puppets
Clowns and charlatans,
With hoodwinked
Thumbs reeking of stale ink,
Fingernails basking in
The afterglow of indelible ink,
Grappling with four long years
Riddled with questions, no answers
Just an abundance of tricks and gimmicks
With a buffet in economic jargon
And overcooked tales.


The circus soon comes to town,
My math may be wrong,
But I’m confident nonetheless,
Keep an eye out when
The 24th month comes,
You’ll see people waiting in lines
Just so they can have their turn
Soiling fingers with ink while
Painting pieces of paper with pictures on them,
Grumbling four years after,
Only to go wait in line when the
Circus comes to town again
Four years later,
Carnevale,
Welcome to the carnival.