Sycophants Poem by Benson Don

Shouts at your arrival
in reverence to your person.
So high your arms soar,
even beyond your shoulders have risen.

People obeisance applauds you
making you feel so elated.
Those applauds are not new,
their every prey are alike treated.

They keep shouting and dancing
as long and loud
your money keep singing
not even minding the cloud.

They keep adding feathers
to the ones on your cap
to shut you up in fool's paradise
until their stings make you handicap.

They follow you about
like flies to excreta
but when challenges shout
they flee like a sport car.

They don't deserve you
acknowledging them
because they're but flu
whose aim is to condemn.