Bullying burns; from the playground bound child
To the President of a country, caught between walls
While the vulture, plump as a duck pouts and preens.
With Vance, his cheeky catamite sat, not at this right
Cupped hand, but right angled; and so, the unsteady
Arrangement of Zelensky V. Trump split the screen
Just as the very air has been wrent in the torn times
We live through. The black track suited leader,
Squeezed by the orange was in sitting still tripped
By Trump, for not saying thanks for the chance
Of having spite spat across him. Caught like a boy
Between bullies, the bland mantra mantis
Effectively took a dump into the living rooms
Of the world, smearing his own spunk stained carpet.
His hateful affrontery backdoored Zelensky’s humane
Appeal with the shunt of the ignorant oaf, targeting
Who it is he might pick on. And with his VP thug enforcer,
We had to sit through so called politesse preached
By cunts who would cast Volodymr to the pit,
In order for Vladimir to prove saintly, and carve out
Of Kyiv, in an instant another Gaza like Mall
They’ve designed. “You’re gambling with World War Three!”
Potus spat. Friends, instant report is my Modus,
But it took me some hours to fully comprehend
And define where it is we now are. Truly in league
With both death and the Devil, as we allow such transgressors
To command as they do life and line. All bets are off.
Satire is scorched pre-ignition. Reportage has been
Ransacked and analagy’s on all fours. What we think of
As sense now makes none, as we wake to a theatre
Of the absurd, hogged by Ubu, running mad
And praised loudly because he dares to break down
Reason’s doors. Proud to become Philistine as he re-erects
The temple Christ tantrumed; as he returns human discourse
To rutting in mud, we’re his whores. Were Harold Pinter alive,
He would at nearly 95 be campaigning outside Embassies
Or the White House using his rich actor’s voice to implore
And black eyed gaze to defy today’s modern horror,
Which for some means big business, but which becomes
For me, biblical. Zelensky was David that day, threatened
And scorned by this false Goliath who has also been made
False messiah, as with Putin, Netanyahu or Hitler;
Everything remains cyclical. And so it rolls on, crushing
All caught before it. For just as former fields become highways,
Or city streets graveyard plots, we have to prepare;
We have to think of ways to recover. Now everyone knows,
If not nuance, than the immensity of the darkness
Clouding our view. Those sunspots that can at once
Spike the eye show how much is wrong with the picture.
The files are corrupted. Ours is the time sense forgot.
Zelensky retained dignity. The sadness in his stare
Grieved for reason. Somewhere, John Clare is stood
Calling. As are Harold and Heathcore and all the truth
Tellers. In this time in which truth can’t be trusted
We need a new teacher to take hold of these bullies
By the scruff of the folds in their neck, do we not?
Rewrite. Rewind. Erase the tape and tape over.
Delete. All the madmen from Musk to this mire
Must, should be cancelled, before we’re all bullied
By the smack of the smoke. Us, as blot.
David Erdos 4/3/25
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