The View from the Fluffy Chair

The View from the Fluffy Chair
Right and left-armed with optics-
Scan the horizon for enemies.
Blinded by distance,
They forget where common ground once stood
Beneath their feet.
They could have tried-
The cold ache of waiting rooms,
The bitter cost of one forgotten prescription.
To feel the needy,
Not serve the billionaires.

No kitchen-table talk,
No shared laughter over a movie's plot,
Nor simple walk...

And in the center-the prize:
A leather throne,
A flood of credit and perks,
Coverage aged like bottled wine,
Sealed with cork,
Comfort that sparks.

A feast of influence and insulation.
The taste-too sweet to forget.
They have everything;
We’re still watching,
Still learning.

“What do you have?
You have nothing.
You are nothing.
You can build nothing.”

Turning citizens into capital-
Fuel for the political engine,
A blind pursuit of power
That burns the very hands
That built the fire.

They run with horse blinders on,
Hyped on steroids of pride.
And when the chariot’s wheel flies off-
For lack of grace, or guidance, or tolerance-
They’ll blame the horses,
Say they were under influence,
To hide their own ignorance.

From the comfort of that fluffy chair,
They find the smooth angle, frame the shot,
Wrap their lies like gold-plated thought.
They twist the truth-a Heimlich spin-
Until the breath of reason caves within.
Beneath the silk and camera blink,
Their human frailties still stink.

So the message is clear:
Don’t tell them
You’re tired,
Or old,
Or poor and sick-
Whatever your plight.

Let the people’s debt roll,
A snowball gathering weight.
Let rust gather on the plow.
Let bridges crumble.
Let the innocents wait.

The “basket of deplorables,”
The “enemies within”-
Let them go hungry.
No need to fold their laundry.
They can ride out the winter
On our reelection prebate.

They forget:
Once power and glamour
Slip beneath their skin,
They fall into conflict.
Life inside a power bubble,
Lined with velvet walls,
The air grows thin, a slow suffocation.
It doesn’t take a genius
To predict.

Ego-money-power-rooted deep.

“I will not give this up,” they vow.
“I will conjure ghosts for you to fear.
I will parse the truth until it serves me.
The people’s work can wait-
This chair is mine to keep.”