The bloated corpse is on display
for everyone to see;
the bubbling innards broadcast live
on everyone’s TV.
How did things end up this way
the people howl and cry;
why did no one tell us
that democracy could die?
And so we watch and vultures come
to pick the dead bones clean
and people stand, and stare, and shrug
at such a ghastly scene.
The time to act was long ago
we missed our chance to act
to call the doctor, not the priest
for the medicine we lacked.
And so we watch the burial
and wonder what comes next;
I’m sure the word will come to us
by email or by text?
-
Author:
Fränz Müller (
Offline) - Published: June 28th, 2026 11:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Kevin Hulme
Offline)
Comments4
Clever, deep and dark this poem a political criticism falls within the border of truth and is well rhymed and metered. Even Jefferson thought that democracy was nothing more than two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner but there seem no better options. Well written and a fave
Thank you!
My pleasure
Fränz, what a vivid political allegory. The recurring image of the autopsy carries the poem from beginning to end, while the final question adds a touch of dark irony that lingers after the last line. Whether read as warning, lament, or both, it certainly leaves the reader with something to think about. Wonderful write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you so much!
Powerful Piece. Here in the U.K. Free Speech is coughing up Blood. Good Write.
Thank you Kevin!! Best wishes from New York.
My Pleasure. 🇬🇧🇺🇲
So sad and so true. I disregard warnings about how we need to change before it is too late; it is already too late. I'm glad I'm an old man, worry for my daughter. Arrogance and greed have destroyed us. Oh well?
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