amusedMy lovely wife received a “polling call” ahead of our state’s primary election. My wife was in a civic mood, so she answered the pollster’s questions. It became clear that the pollster was working for a certain candidate’s campaign. The pollster asked her questions, each one probing for the most negative reaction to a series of possible attack ad topics. Next the pollster asked a series of “what-if” questions that put the candidate’s chief opposition in a most ugly light. If the assertions were fully embraced, the responder to the “poll” would believe that the opposition was the Devil themselves. My poem “Generic Polling Calling” is based on this experience.
Generic Polling Calling
Oh sweet voter, milk of God,
consort of wisdom's choice,
grant me audience to reflect
on the election near at hand.
Mellifluous musings are yours to share,
speak your tongue to my ear.
Bless me with your dulcet tones
as you voice your preferred vote.
Generic Polling is my group,
claimed dispassioned from the start.
simple queries are our tool,
though it may seem otherwise.
Ignore the questions' slant,
bias dripping from every word.
We are foot soldiers in this cause,
to which side we'll not disclose.
We'll begin with soft-serve,
meant to vet your bona fides.
Prove that your sweetness comes
from the milk of chosen ones.
Our questions must have impact,
twist the souls of supplicants.
Are you our natural prey?
I meant to say, do you pray?
A game we'll play with candidates,
my blessed master and alternate.
The alternate will be the foe,
my master the blessed soul.
I'll switch between the two with ease
as I ask 'what if' queries.
You'll tell me what you think of these,
how this interview twists beliefs.
What if my master was blessed by God,
flowers springing up at their step?
The rainbows crossed the sky,
testament of their ruling divinity.
What if my master solved all ills,
made your life full in retrospect?
They may break some eggs along the way,
but to you an omelet heaven sent.
What if the alternate was Devil placed,
spawn of the damned hellion pits?
Their cloven hoofs would betray
if footwear did not obfuscate.
What if they hated dogs and spit on cats,
slapped young children and cuddled snakes?
Imagine anything found most vile,
submitting them as the perp.
I'm not saying these things are true,
I just want to know your attitude
when told who you should embrace
and who you should jettison.
Now that you've said your peace,
balloter of righteousness,
heed my words sublimely placed
as you shine on ballot's stage.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160210.
