…Oink Oink…

They must be Orwellians

Oinking their way to destroy

The house of the unsuspected.

Even the letter “M”, the thirteenth

In the line-up of alphabets 

Yielding power on the fulcrum—left/right

Is afraid to precede the “oink”

For the word becomes pointless.

Hollow words should be extinct,

But not in this uncertain climate,

They keep on wagging their short, stubby tails

Behind their blatantly overweight body

For the lack of exercises—

Intellectual as well as common sense,

Telling lies against grains of evidences

Oinking their way to personal gains

Flooding the field at the cost of our lives.

The mindless Oinks with voracious appetite

Circle in mud inside the fence,

Grab anything far and near

To bloat themselves.


Year of the Rat

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