What Russia rips will tear more than the Faustian pact
Putin scribbled, as a soul sold for power without policy
Now invests in a new armoury; tanks replacing ploughs
To churn country into so much fodder for futures
That would easily pass fascist tests.
The rise of the right in Ukraine is one of Disreputin’s
Justifications. But if that were true, he’d need forces
To roam everywhere. To me, this seems worse;
The latest in the desperate shit-com we’re living,
Where one farce feeds another to not make denoument,
But chaos instead; a kid’s dare. A childlike affront,
A global need for attention, in order to restore reputations
That recent sufferings shared. Or just a piss-take, perhaps
In which peoples lives are the punchline, with the ensuing
Smell one of panic, poison and pain, fast declared.
Clearly, nowhere’s at rest. From Space, and wherever
THEY ARE does our signal register on their richter
As an insignificant panicked pulsing, or just a doused
By dark light – soon to be dimmed, what with
This constant need for invasion, as the drive
To penetrate others is the impulse for both death
And life. As if in each beginning, our end was far more
Important, engaging the rhythm method of ruin
While showing through repetition a complete disregard
For insight. Where will it end as each wave of war
Seeks its brother? And where is the future if the present
Day brings no gifts: of foresight, control, or solidarity?
We are riven. As Vladimir is tank driven to vampire
Ukrainian veins and his status; as blood blows a new
Bubble to splatter and stain fresh uplift.
David Erdos 24/2/22
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