The mouths of the sycophants
Slide down optimism’s end
And discharge a wicked gloom.
A thousand-skulled glumness
Within the breathless sky
Like a horde of defecating locust.
The tongues of the sycophants
Cackle and spew their cynicism
As thunderous footsteps rumble
A message that we might heed,
Reminding us that beneath the despotic clouds
Lay the founding documents too near to flame.
The jaws of the sycophants
Feast upon our selfless expectations
And envision not their collusion
Even beneath the red-rumbling void
That brings their eyes skyward instead of front
To see the loudly beating heart of our own tyranny.
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman