by Olga Wayne
To vote, or not to vote: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler to stress on undecided bleachers-
Submit to others' will and insane caprices,
Or to take arms against abyss of indecision,
And by choosing one of the evils – join it? To vote: to have a voice,
Responsibility; but vote – does it mean agreement?
The torture of a thousand objections and
Inquietudes – reflecting mind is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly abhorred by Independents. To vote, but
Republican or Democrat? Ay, there's the rub;
For in this world there's but a two-party system,
And lack of choices gives us Independents pause.
That makes calamity of road to each election;
For who could bear the whips and scorns of desperate decisions,
Between the oppressor's wrongs, and the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of empty rhetoric or total cluelessness,
The insolence of these choices and the spurns
Of disgusts and regrets over choosing the unworthy,
When I myself would better President make -
All I need is a good stylist and Wikipedia.
Alas, we grunt and sweat under the weary choice,
Fear and loathing after the election,
The undiscover'd country from whose trap
No traveller returns. This strangles all free will -
Traps thought, hope, will to live and spirit.
But vote for Nader? Lord O'Mighty, no!
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the total lack of choice or resolution -
Sickens. I dread the very thought of this election.
I resent the fervor and freight of the moment.
With this regard I fall into despair.
And I forget the rush usually felt with action.
Oh, the fair Hillary! You are a nymph in my orisons.
Be all my sins remember'd.
Olga Wayne is an attorney by day and a bard by night. She is a graduate of Harvard College and Temple Law School.
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