(“300” and “Meet the Spartans” are so….old)
If the slinging of compounds of mud and shit
Was a game that attracted the world athlete
And if it was shaped as a decent sport for the kicks,
Then our Election would have echoed the Olympics
Cos, the noble intentions, ethical competitions,
The crowd attraction, the media light
And different kinds of referees’ interventions
After many a suspenseful sleepless night
Can all be traced to the Election Game
Where winning ain’t what it’s about, but staying afloat,
When they come and cross out your name
To wave and to take things like a sport.
Para-Olympics, too: cos an aging batter
From Matara seeks pavilions better
And his ailing years do not unmatch the latter:
A sprinter who was a once dream-medal setter.
When the sports unfold (though not nec for gold)
You need interludes, too, to make things smooth.
Like dancing girls for whom the courts will hold
Young and old Paris Hiltons, their dramatic truth
From Gampaha — one, the other from the South
Perhaps our brains need barley and mouth-to-mouth.
These games, who will win? for whom are they wise?
A world defined by three bline mice.
Of course, there are others, who took banned substances,
Now awaiting charges about to be proved.
There should be discipline in the game. Ah, boy: there should be
Discipline in the game. Or, we set a bad example —
Then, no Prosperous Future.
Betel Leaf is our version of the Greek olive,
The Elephant replaces the chariot races.
If the Trophy goes to win, against the belief
Will they wither — the betal and elephus faces?
Ah, my monkey jest — cos they won’t win:
Alternatives, Oppositions and outsiders
To the Government have long been hosted to the bin.
Are you King’s XI Punjab or Kolkata Knight Riders?