Poetry: On the Assassination of a Politician

Politics has never been clean,
It had Adam and Eve chucked out from Eden;
history is replete with its sanguinary 'marvels',
Literature is full of Anthonies and fellows like Brutus;
it gave birth to World War One and Two
and God knows when the smoldering
tussle will end up in a Third World War;
politics runs the show of nations,
politics shapes the fate of people;
politics is an epidemic,nay, a pandemic,
it infects every home, every office,
every burg, town,state and people;
the cleverer a person, the better politician is he,
a ruler of men, a man of his own rules;
but seldom lies easy his head
from the infestation of his self-inflicted disease;
usually he recovers-and if he does
he's hailed as a statesmen, a leader of men
but sometimes he has to pay a heavy price
for recuperating, for his survival,
when his life line is cut short,
and he's destined to suffer a fate
sundered by the flying bullet of a jealous sniper,
or collateral death besides an over-zealous suicide bomber,
all that's left of him is dead red
blob of a pool of wasted blood,
or a charred black handful of dust.