The flies hover round, humming a dinner song.
The smell is marvelous, and taste builds a throng.
Rigor mortis holds their feast in place like pebbles
Laid round hand-decorated ceramic on tables:
Once, he moved around and guided with orders,
To sway his country good and keep its borders.
Then, HE decided. Not anymore, no, no more.
"Fact" is dead and "I heard " took over this shore.
And suddenly judging a presumptuous bribe
Is wiser than doing so for an actual bribe diatribe