The Government is a Joke

The politicians speak in riddles,
words tumbling like clowns from a car,
a parade of nonsense,
where promises float like balloons,
bright, colorful,
but ultimately empty,
a spectacle of shadows.

The answer is always the same: nothing,
a deafening silence wrapped in jargon,
as they dance on the strings of their own creation,
puppets in a theater of absurdity,
while we sit in the audience,
munching popcorn,
giggling at the farce.

They build castles of bureaucracy,
with walls of red tape,
each layer a joke too thick to cut through,
but we laugh, and the walls collapse,
crumbling under the weight of our mirth,
the echoes of laughter
ringing louder than the speeches.

Is this not freedom?
To see the folly, to chuckle at the charade,
to recognize the absurdity
in the gravity of their posturing,
where every press conference
is a stand-up routine,
a comedy of errors being broadcasted
on the stage of life.

In the halls of power,
the truth is a jester,
wearing a cap and bells,
dancing between the lines of legislation,
reminding us that governance
is but a game, a punchline,
and we hold the laughter in our hands.

So let the politicians prattle,
let them spin tales of grandeur,
for we know the secret:
that in the face of their absurdity,
we are the authors of our own freedom,
the masters of our own mirth,
laughing together in the chaos,
transcending the joke
that is the government.

In this surreal circus,
we find our clarity,
our truth wrapped in humor,
and with every chuckle,
we dismantle the illusion,
brick by brick,
until all that remains
is the joy of being alive,
unfettered by the nonsense
that once held us captive.