The Stench of Power

Image by AI

What do they smell of,

Those Slippery Men,

Fluent in Sycophancy,

As they scurry alongside their

BIG MAN,

Beating their puny, hairless chests,

Tossing wads of bank notes like rose petals?

Do base notes of

Insanity and Disconnect

Peacock among a dangerous, poisonous accord of

Arrogance, Misogyny, Impunity, Entitlement and Greed?

Are the top notes of their reek found among the charms of

Plunder and Piracy, Putrefaction and Pestilence?

And at the core of this composition - and here we speak of core, since God forbid such a stench be in any way associated with heart – which nauseating, nostril-tormenting notes do we shrink away from? Is that icky whiff a puddle of spoilt milk? A platter of overripe cheese? A pool of decomposing beef? A splat of rotten eggs?

Sycophant, by Badombré. Because you’re an asshole.

Crikey.

Do you think they brush their teeth?  

PS: Badombré? Bad Hombre…