HypocritesA Poem by PeteThey see me through bloodshot eyes. They smell me with burned-out nostrils. They hear me through beeswax ears. They touch me with plastic fingers. They dine with me bringing their puke, indigestion and bad breath. They lick their lying lips. They talk to me with forked tongues. Their words burn like acid. They laugh at me from the corners of their mouths. They smile at me in condescension. They dance with me in deceit. They walk away from me with lying legs. They judge me with crooked gavels. They cut me off on life's on-ramp. They visit me with welcome wagons, then go home and lock their doors. They sell me out for a pittance. They defecate on me in defiance. Self-righteous denizens of dung. Charlatans of chicanery cloaked behind moribund masks. Ignorant, contemptible, contradictory cut-throats. Delusional deviants. Two-faced, twisted turncoats. Fractured facades in fun-house mirrors. Four-flushing fakers. Masquerading malingerers. Pontificating, placating patronizers. Pompous plaster saints. Saying one thing but doing another. Their waves go from five fingers to one. Who the hell do they think they are? © 2018 PeteFeatured Review
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Added on December 18, 2015Last Updated on February 27, 2018 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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