(Inspired by the Trafigura incident)

Buried six feet under; they hope to be discreet
But now the stench has surfaced from beneath
They thought it was over, but others have exhumed,
The body of corruption which they thought was consumed.

Since corruption isn't flammable–it cannot be burned
So they buried it for a while, but the tables have turned.
Now wide open is the sepulcher which covered the box
As extinct becomes their laughter and they cannot relax.

They might own the cemetery, but life owns the plot
So concealment they sought, but open shame they've got.
Now their secrets are out as the grave has open wide,
And skeletons and corruption are no longer inside.

Skeletons are for closets is what we've been told,
But these carcasses were too stink for a closet to hold.
At the ‘final farewell’, they thought all was fine,
Not realizing that things would change with time.

Relentlessly they tried to keep the grave close,
Detesting transparency, that's what I suppose.
Corruption is the order for those who crave,
Then panic their response, when there's an open grave.

By: Ricardo Paulwell