Politician.... Poem by Eric Cockrell

the stink of money,
rising from the words he hurls,
like torn pieces of bread,
to the flock of starving crows.
mind numbing phrases,
that drain all feeling from the souls.
light the pipe of apathy,
poverty dreams and illusions.
careful not to touch,
not to mingle with the crowd.
not to taint his holiness
with the common dirt.
his time is over!
his world has come to its end!
truth has risen from the ruins,
and demands payment!
the revolution is upon us!