August 1, 2015

 

 

Secrets and lies

and honey trap pies.

Bread and butter for hacks;

truth stretched to surprise.

 

Discrete camera’s flashing;

caught in the act.

Just a hint of suggestion,

based loosely on fact.

 

Whiter than white:

Purer than light:

A blotted copybook,

not yet come into sight.

 

Paying top dollar,

to be first past the post.

Confined to the sin-bin,

for that naughty boy boast.

 

Say nothing to no-one,

or ones career long dead,

as embarrassed blushes

turn faces bright red.

 

That old potato, the past,

just waiting to erupt.

That one step too far,

yet hardly corrupt,

 

will come back to bite one,

sure as night follows day.

From the straight path,

t’was madness to stray.

 

Yesterday’s headlines;

Chip paper today.

Shock horror stories,

now thrown away.

 

Secrets and lies,

and honey trap pies.

Play at ones peril,

if no conscience applies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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