ON GODS’ LITTLE CLOACAS

Great ladies and great men have great glands
That put them in high positions stands.
They love to attend grand ballroom balls.
To clad with glitz and bling nature’s calls.
To stay in line,plush gowns and stiff tucks.
Lots of assorting to see who lucks.
On dance floor glide gilded and prissy
‘neath’ are butts to see who gets missy.

Little cloacae on other town side
Much less camouflage gets hide to hide.
A soft flat surface is all that’s needed.
Agree eye to eye, they’ve succeeded.
Not champagne but some kind of booze
May lubricate intimates good choose.

No matter who,what,when or where,
Some of these matches if they do dare
Get flubbed up and cross some kind of line
Maybe due to the food which they dine.
Maybe well planned or just encounter
One way or other one will be mounter.
Top social folks end up in scandal.
Others get more than they may handle.

Outhouse to White House it ends the same.
Cloacas are on top of the game.
Here and there it may show as spouse beaters.
More often though simply vow cheaters.
Gods’ little cloacas mischief full
May build up kingdoms or down them pull.

What in the world do foist ladies do?
You did but did’nt vote them in too.
Foist ladies genre for kinfolk crew.
Nephews,nieces and mistresses too.
There must be more than loving in oven.
Could it be more like secret coven?

What ism is that nepotism?
Office they get through taxpayer prism.
Oh what glee having such power be
Just like the family de Medici.
Whither Oh whither democracy!

Do Borgias or Putins now lurk
Among free democratic quirk.
Like some mute indwelling parasite.
Crept into our state as it slept at night.

Awake, alarm, wake up, closely look.