Fragrance Of Another Kind


World leadership has become a stench
Only those who are willing to smell their own
Can recognize.

How heavy the laden air,
Filled as it is
With duplicitous scents,
The unctuous smile,
The sweat-wiped palm.

Yet still many endorse their reigns,
Their brothel-like choice,
Matched only by Power’s turn-a-trick mindset.

Perhaps this olfactory sense of spoilage
Will never become apparent,
Lest they discover their own toxic breath.

Yes…

At times,
As a species,
Many are truly
Looking up through
An immersion in toilet water,
Running the risk
Of never emerging
From their fragrance-of-choice ignorance.

Perfumed?

Ugh.

But, hey…

There will always be
Different fragrances
For different folks,
Right, Mr. Bolton?