POEM: Scorpions in a Bottle

One small hope in the unfolding Trump regime is that the off-the-charts power-mongering and corruption will result in minions behaving like scorpions in a bottle, turning on one another, perhaps degrading their degrading schemes.

Scorpions in a Bottle

The ultimate con quest
Won wring
Too rule them all
They have
Dissembled together
Dough minions
Of every manor
Their savvy genius rounded up
Their whored of power
Stacked
As giving
As a hill of beings
As the profits speak
What lack he
O death wear
Is thy sting
A morality
Slipping
On barrels of snake oil
A mortality
Sipping
On poison
Its soul weapon
A battle fool of fateful pricks
And all that madders
What race engender
That will
Get me a cross
That finish lyin’

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