The propagandist atop a crumbling roof
A desperate crowd massed on the ground
Disquieting frown, a place to be found
If not for all the other many faces
He stoked the frightening fires of fear
Extruded emotion and shed a tear
Extorting your support, he would lead
Never in the fray, never to bleed
Safely directing from comfortable places
Always well heard, but ever aloof
Instilling a sense of national pride
All the while you’re taken on a ride
Dumped off in the middle of nowhere
A long walk back, if you know the way
Such is the life of a branded stray
Are you living free until the roundup ?
Twirling on a spit, your skull now a cup
Once living free, now a fine evening fare
Propagandist and Pawn
Re: Propagandist and Pawn
Insightful poem, with good theme.
Re: Propagandist and Pawn
the title alone is intriguing enough, and the poem itself delivers a well crafted look at life and our stake in the whole thing.....the subtle rhymes do not take away from the message, as often will be the case when a poet tries too hard to find a word that works okay.....I like it....
the death of empathy is the birth of barbarism
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