Hand him a twitch to wake the bag,
breathe him a wind and watch him blow!
His leathery skin will show no marks,
the flames need fuel and bellows.
Offer him up to breakfast news,
pipe him a phrase and watch him blow!
his spasming mouth will puff and squeal -
the flames are fuelled by bellows.
Now cycle it out to the populace!
Pump up their passions and watch them blow
and blurt on their garrulous timelines; feed
the flames with fuel and bellows.
And when some commission arrives to prise
his apertures open - watch them blow!
Why, empty has nothing to answer for.
The flames need fools and bellows.
If you have any comments on this poem, Nina Parmenter would
be pleased to hear from you.