Politics

I am as flat as my straw summer shoes
Held to my feet by a little cloth strap
Red as humor mistaken for passion
For laughter is its own bold cry
I am the color of dull that my father
Splashes across the walls of that house
That took his time away from me
I am like the blank of my applications
That push nothingness into my mind
And the minds of all those
Who pour what they have been onto that paper
Starting anew with a colonizing spirit

What then qualifies me?
Qualifies and quantifies that red humor
Boldness begats opposition which births
Discrimination, disunion, and adversity
Love, they say, passion transcends all
But I believe that blatant disregard of jest
All of which is conquered by humor
Fought away by laughter
And mockery is my weapon
Cannot be the answer to the problem of
Politics