Thursday, 23 April 2015



The lanky man with four pairs of eyes

(Two of course are glass made)

Is an ambush predator

He loves truth mimicry

You wouldn’t dream

How he has kept

His other six legs hidden somewhere

You better walk past him

Because once he spots you

The lines in his mouth

Begin to stir, tongue rolls

To form word web

You’ll be unwittingly ensnared

And your legs will get caught

In that subtle, silky spiral orb net

You will be a helpless immobile prey

His hidden legs will then show up

A beam will play about his mouth

Highly satisfied

Thinking his day’s not been wasted

He will make your mind numb

And slowly devour you

So be the last person

To pay heed to him

Politicians are crafty, beware!


Posted for the prompt Last Legs @ RealToads