Caught


Fifty and furtive, his head down when he walks,
Shifty and hungry, the eyes flit as he talks
Unrehearsed, aware that deep is the disdain
Of leery listeners who won't feel his pain.

Pursuing his lusts in open recklessness,
Risking high office, he, when caught, must confess
To things, he is apt, without will to indulge,
Then, worry when deposed what story to divulge.

A fool's born each minute to win with half-lies,
And act above it all, unless caught in surprise;
Halcyon spin-meisters, tautologies must send,
Political shibboleths pied piping to the end.

Love, war and politics, in all, it's fair game
To lie, to cheat and steal, then swear in His name
Whatever comes to mind, giving it no thought
Till in the future, publicly, you get caught.


--H. Arlequin 


 

 


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