[i]The Diplomat[/i]

The Diplomat's a sorry, somber sort
who murmurs, meek, before their looming lords
and sings to them apologies for crimes 
unfurled in distant lands by foreign kings

for whom regurgitation is a part
of every meal, and every meeting, too, 
so they may preen and puff their feathers up
in indignation, fulminating fowl

enraged by slights perceived, however small,
and each prognosticates calamity
across their scintillating spectrum tales,
although the prophesized destruction feared

by them is not the falling of the sky,
obliteration of the masses, nor
return of wretched exiles to the nest.