Budget 2015
The feathers plumped softly in the cushion
She lay beneath the cheeks of his spreading
Posterior from whence came his proclamations.
Beside him the one crooked to the front, took
His place upon the podium with velvet grace.
Silence fell as his tongue licked the lips from which
The beggar’s pennies were cast forth upon the sunken
Shoulders of the green land, once proud now covered
In a shroud of deceptive schemes and fairy-tale dreams
He winked a twitching eye and nodded a shaky head
And beneath his snaking breath he whispered real slow
Real easy, real unsure of him and them and all the rest
“Do they believe, do they understand, do they see?”
He flicks the pages of the comic beneath his script
He smiles a sneer and inside he thinks the plot is laid
The worms will follow the mellow chords we lay
Beneath the feet of those not willing to change
who always follow the idiot’s chime
© Francie McGivney 13.10.15
Words I love to write 