Parliament Gob

In the gob that was parliament
The members of teeth sat
In shades of decay and stability
To bite down on an issue
That was fed to them
On a drunken night out
At 3am
The upper and lower chambers met
To vote for the words
To stay in or
Get out

Molars in the upper chamber
Waived lead ballot papers
The incisors were indecisive
But went with the majority
The canines bit sharp
And pointed at the opposition
The gold tooth at the front and centre
Suddenly felt uneasy and alone
The rest of the front bench
Who got all the attention
Were mostly false
And had nothing of substance to contribute
The committee on the right at the back
Had ground themselves down
To a hardened position
And any wisdom teeth
Had long been extracted

After the river of salivation
Crashed open the lips to the public
The rotten bastard at the back of the chamber
Sucked out any juice in the room
After the gob
Got together
And voted for the words to
Get out
Under the glare
Of the dentist’s chair
The experts decided
That the evidence
For such a statement
Just wasn’t there