In the myst, where time stood still,  
In serene harmony with nature,
Lived a tribe of Neanderthal,  
Our prehistoric, ancient nurture.

A society of hunters and gatherers,  
They lived a simple life of bliss:  
They hunted bison and speared fish,  
Survived from earth’s fruit and hunted dish.

Once, the tribe had come to light,  
Of politicians, great and bright,  
The greatest of our liberal minds,  
Who protect the weak, and foster rights.

A boy named Kreigh, a Neanderthal scout,  
Of stature short, yet strong and stout,  
His eyes shone bright from underneath  
His forehead and the brow ridges of his.

The Party gathered members thought,  
Of minds, endowed with wisdom lot,  
They polled and rallied, discussed and fought –  
So that Kreigh they could promote.

Some preached: “Neanderthals are smart”;  
The “LGBTQ For Neanderthals” also took part;  
Then there was something even better:  
The “Neanderthal Lives: They Also Matter!”

And so, our Kreigh, a gentle lad,  
Had country almost torn apart;  
But when dust settled, morals soared:  
The democratic harmony was restored!

They sent Kreigh to study Law,  
His sponsors helped him – high and low.  
Then on to the highest political game,  
The sponsors propelled him just the same.

And so, we have a senator Kreigh,  
A proud representative of a minority high,  
Of Neanderthal roots, yet educated,  
Holds a post high and sophisticated.

Soon an election is in the air,  
The trusty sponsors, always there;  
They poll, and lobby, and preach so grand,  
Promise nirvana to folks of the land.

Then God behold: our Neanderthal lad  
Is now the president of the land!  
Alas, inside, in privacy deep,  
Kreigh is still missing his tribal keep.

His tribal ways, never abandoned,
His office felt so foreignly condoned,
Decisions are tough, but not to worry:
The sponsors will help with any story.

Progress forward and upward, sky is the limit,
No price too high, no law can constrain it,
The laws will adapt to the much needed change,
With paradigm shifts, cavemen entrenched.

And what of the sponsors, how do they exist?
Hunting buffalo, spearing fish to subsist?
Do they enjoy the rustic charm, 
Of life in caves, far from luxury’s harm?

When merit is not given care,
Do not complain of fate you share!

                            Paul Pinkhasik, July 18, 2024

                            illustration by DALL-E