Odoriferous, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on @Twitter/X)

The rancid rancor bellows the fire
In the faces of lemmings rotting
Eagar to consume the expired meat

Maggots writhe out en masse to the tune
Of compost bovine dung, slung from
The mouth of the Mar A Lago hog

Blowflies in bowties no longer at the anchor desk
Of the howling mad F-team from down under

Gotti now the underworld boss, if there was one
Would probably think to himself, ” I wish, I had
Thought of that”

To run from prosecution, by running for office
It is a milk carton, bloated, and has a welcome
Well overstayed, fish and 72 hours, left out

It is the smell of a neglected portable potty
In the abandon construction sight
Baking under the blistering August sun

Wafting over the indignant dullards
The pungent potpourri, of belligerent
Amorphophallus titanum corpse flower

Reeking of despotism, fascism, authoritarianism
Wrapped in the slick veil of patriotism
It is a smell no amount of Vicks could mask

Musty dank basement, the cobwebs grow
From neglect of civics, in favor of fervor
For the fragrance of absolute power

And we know what that does absolutely.
(end)

I think this is self explanatory.

Notes on the poem”

“Howling mad” Murdoch was a character on The A-Team. My apologies to that character and the real actor. Just a metaphor, no indictment of them. No relationship to the asshole Australian who destroyed ethics in reporting. “Blowflies in bowties” I think you can figure out which former employee I am talking about.