Fence-sitter

A speck of light far beyond, on the dark hill,
A schema of optimistic scintilla, a hopeful sill,
Each lightning brought terrible flames, my will
Travelled beyond the turbulent water fall
I am in a squib hasting to reach the mill,
Where genius get shaped to the full.
I want to damp the mumpsimus of fools,
I want to rid of all supestition that prevails,
Now the leftists turned to right, no Marx,
They chant hymns and dance old lore,
I choose rustic language like the lefts
Who proclaim perpetual progress social,
And I want to write a thesis on the fools,
The communist conservatives, uphold
Heresy chant Das Capital-- out dated,
Nurturing tribal faiths of superstition,
I want to pretend to be progressive,
All that is left is old and conservative,
Yet I nurture them to be a genius.
I shout 'Imperialism', to be clever,
I oppose liberalism to be a left,
Now I am pretentious, and  to be fit,
To become a leftist thinker.  (affectatious)