The corrupt

 

We hate doors and windows and ventilators,
Of open terraces we are professed haters.
Hidden doorways and intrigue-dipped lockets,
Secret basements and coded Dockets,
Concealed lockers and books that are cases –
Thrill our minds, our heart races!
We are the ones who flee at midnight
To gallop and sprint to our Swiss insight.
Then challenge the reports that malign us –
The farce of a sullen government fuss!
We deny, we wag a finger in disgust
While other fingers laugh at our lust.
We cry out loud, tell the world we have lost
And count the years of labour it had cost
But rejoice and celebrate in hiding and exile
And continue living our life of style…
We are the corrupt
And we love being just that
We love calling you, the world
A miserable twat!

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The Corrupt - a poem

The Corrupt – a poem

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Arvind Passey
02 April 2017