The whiff of death,

party’s over, this

technicolour decline

needs a makeover.

 

Leaves gone acrid,

red, white and

blue blossoms

turned rancid brown.

 

Red and yellow

spots emerging,

a bloated assemblage

is rotting down.

 

Unkempt and

maggoty,

extremities

have putrefied.

 

And desperate

deadheads cling on,

won’t give up

on calmer days

long gone by.

 

A winter cleanse,

and a new beginning,

can start a trust

in growth,

one more time.

 

or the previous more overtly politicised version:

 

The whiff of death,

this party’s over and your

technicolour decline

needs a takeover.

 

Zealots gone acrid,

true blues turning

rancid brown.

 

Red spots, empty seedheads,

your bloated majority

is rotting down.

 

This mulchy stink tells us,

green is fast turning black,

as you shrivel and zombify,

get on your way,

and don’t come back.

 

Fungal, seedy,

and atrophying.

 

Unkempt, maggoty,

and crumbling. 

 

Desperate, degenerate,

and clinging. 

 

Give us winter cleanse

and a new beginning.