A broken sonnet for a broken democracy

A little poem I wrote featuring U.S. politics:


Promises Painted on Eggshells

Soft piles of shit shift across cliffs of sand

How rustling papers do silence the storm.

As money goes from hand into hands,

Palms take bills poisoned in secrecy,

Funding gold-plated pillows over boss’s bed.

Here: governments based on publicity

The celebrity parties move the head;

Blue-blood transfused by a well-known name

From land to sea and back in once again.

No one looks around anymore. It’s all the same:

The leaders play to slay the fattened hens.

Drunken flies cover honey-coated lies—

The leavening is dead, no room to rise.


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