(Not a poem) Good luck to the paunchy heads of state and barefooted bureaucrats, With pouches stained with black gold and dirty carats; New shoes decked with things expensive and luxuriant. They are the wizened claw-pointing cronies of corruption Breathing lies, baring their fangs. Can you see them? they are the masked marauders, mauling the impoverished populace. Behind a veneer of spirituality and candor Ravenous wolves in the wool of sheep. Scowling and howling from city hall to church pews, their words as tasty as a month old stew. I write of those that tell that ancient lie – Youths are the leaders of tomorrow – While we scoff and sing echoes of self-inflicted hard times, as a little blue bird tweets listlessly about the Cataclysmic Chronicles of our fragmented state! Every word stenciled in falsehood… yet we see them, in their bullion vans… bullying the masses, Canvassing across the borders. Haranguing the weak, pilfering wealth from public coffers In

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