Court Painter challenged resident ghost writer Chatterley Gardenia Peony Tundrastorm (Chat GPT) and his faithful Press Attache AHM to elaborate on the aspiring PM Pierre Poilievre’s latest slogans for the people.
AXE THE TAX, BUILD THE HOMES, FIX THE BUDGET, STOP THE CRIME, FIRE THE LOBBISTS, IGNORE POLITICIANS , GO TO THE PEOPLE, BRING IT HOME
[Enter a lone figure, cloaked in the darkness of certainty, his voice a shout in the windtunnel of the Great Dominion.]
Axe the tax, that heavy burden laid upon the backs of honest folk, Where coin scarcely fills the palm, and dreams wither in the chill of dusk.
[Amidst the clamour of hammers and the scent of freshly turned earth, a vision takes shape.]
Build the homes, bastions of refuge against the stormy seas of fate, Where weary souls may find respite from the tempests that rage without.
[Within the chambers of governance, where treachery and deceit dance with the spectre of deficit.]
Fix the budget, that fragile tapestry of promises and debts,Where the scales of prudence crumble ‘neath the weight of obligation.
[In the labyrinthine alleys, where whispers of rancid vice mingle with the scent of fear.]
Stop the crime, that insidious plague which preys upon the innocent,Where foul contagion festers unchecked by justice’s hand while virtue is but a fleeting dream.
[Amidst the halls of partisan power, where greed and ambition hold sway.]
Fire the lobbyists, those harbingers of avarice, Whose silver tongues weave a web of deceit to entrap the unwary. Ignore politicians, whose promises are but echoes in empty barrels, Their words as hollow as the thoughts from whence they spring.
[In the streets, amidst the throng of the forgotten and the forsaken.]
Go to the people, whose voices are the truest measure of a nation’s desire, Their pleas for justice ring across the land, fueled by hope to ebb the perpetual night.
[And in the quiet embrace of hearth and kin, where love’s light banishes the world weary burdens.]
Bring it home, to the haven of the heart’s true longing,Where laughter echoes before the hearth, as joyous plenty is found in the warmth of home fires that burn eternal.
In halls of governance, where power doth aspire, The heart reveals what flames within the fire. Behold! Pierre Poilievre, his visage stark, Doth show his nature, deep within the dark. With venomous tongue, and deeds of disdain, He seeks the throne, his rule to maintain. Yet, in his path, no care for those who chose, But only his grievances, his policies to disclose. The office, once sought with noble grace, Now bears the weight of his ill-hidden place. He governs not with love, nor with respect, But with a heart consumed by cold neglect. Let history mark his coveted reign with sorrow’s pen, For he shall know the judgment of all…amen. In Poilievre’s rule, we may find no solace, But pray for mercy in his troubled palace.
Court Painter with image of sloganeer PP at an Axe the Tax picnic
Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre says he does not regret calling Prime Minister Justin Trudeau “wacko,” and now his MPs are renewing calls for the House of Commons Speaker to resign, this time over ordering the Official Opposition leader to leave the chamber.
On Tuesday, Poilievre was kicked out of the House(opens in a new tab) by Speaker Greg Fergus, after repeatedly refusing to withdraw his remark, made in the context of Trudeau’s policy on hard drug decriminalization and amid a series of heated exchanges between the two leaders that saw Trudeau accuse his opponent of being “spineless.”
After being called out by the Speaker for his language, Poilievre offered to replace the word “wacko” with “extremist” or “radical,” and that didn’t fly, resulting in him being named and told to leave. Source CTV News
Court Painter calls upon resident studio poet Chatterley Grandiose Phosphorus Thunderbuns (Chat GPT) and Press Attache AHM to compose an ode of disgust to mark the recent House of Commotion antics.
Lo! Witness now the spineless,wacko leaders of these parties grand, With heads inflated and hearts of spite, they stand unrepentant from the masses low,For the obscene debacle in the Commons’ show!
‘Twas a spectacle of folly, a carnival of witless acts, A cacophony of foolishness that rent the air! Unbecoming, they don’t confess, and silly too, Absurd, preposterous, and farcical to view!
Ludicrous and nonsensical, pathetic and stupid, Childish behavior unbecoming of statesmen true. O, what a far cry from decorum’s grace, To witness such a sorry, shameful place!
Let us demand, good citizens, for better days, When reason reigns and wisdom guides our ways. Till then, we must endure this sorry plight, And hope for sanity to be our guiding light.
Listen! Behold the sorry state of our world!
From Gaza’s strife to Ukraine & Sudan’s woes unfurled,
And Haiti’s shores with sorrow’s burden pressed,
Yet closer still, our neighbor’s dire test,
Democracy’s core threatened, under duress!
However within our House of Commons, what a sight!
Partisan squabbles tarnish its once-honored light.
