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

(c) nyonglema