Thursday, April 24, 2008


A politician is a prater
Whose windy talk but signifies
S/he’s no more than a ventilator
Who goes about in human guise;
Who thinks s/he’s speaking when s/he’s saying
What donkeys do when they are braying;
Who trumpets as a Holy Grail
The garbage at a rummage sale;
Who flatters publics as their duty
Until, at last, they find they’re hung
By lengths of lies they call a tongue;
Whose final words come out their bootie,
As feces are foregone by farts.
These are the politicians’ arts.

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