Election Promises


What is an election promise

but a grain of hope,

washed in the grubby political shallows,

gathering grime by the layer.

A grain full of nothing,

no substance, just hot air,

that bursts when probed

leaving shattered illusions.

Fragments of truth drown in toxic ooze.

The Withering

The Withering

Nobody noticed the Withering,
that all-pervading shadow
perambulating the globe
in perfect anonymity.

All the people became stretched, thinner,
hollow shells full of envy
following those that ate life,
that peddled insecurity,

the crowds that led to the familiar,
no fears, no innovation,
good ideas turned to dust
blown away to obscurity.

This was the Withering in action,
a flooding banality,
a wandering pall of grey
killing originality.

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