Oozing From High Places Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

In these days lived of probabilities.
It is possible to still believe,
There are few amongst the many...
Left committed to using their minds,
Specifically to think.
Even if left with a smidgen,
Of a thought process.
And condoning this activity,
Alone by themselves.

Although difficult it may be,
To accept for many...
This probability could exist.
They should not become upset.
Or find this process offensive.
Since this to do,
There are still a few left...
Capable to connect,
A foul smell in the atmosphere.
Not normally there.
To know this odor,
Could have originated from the ground.
But found its way,
Up from rat infested gutters.

And...
It is from the top,
Of the highest of places.
Oozing of this stench.
And finding its way down.
With a deceiving of the people.
Made to believe,
That what is occurring in the air...
Will provide them to receive,
A better quality of life.
Unlike none they have ever known.

"Do you smell what I smell? "

-Yes!
Yes I do.
Isn't it wonderful.
Finally we have representation,
In the highest of places.
We can depend upon to deliver,
The best of our interests.-

"Are you familiar with bulls.
To know what they do? "

-It has been awhile.
But...
Don't they mate with cows? -

"Besides that."