Because I’m smart, because I’m tough I get to do the tricky stuff. How long before Ukraine war stops? A fortnight, maybe. Three weeks, tops. No US troops will risk their necks. It’s time the EU wrote some checks. Will Russia be OK with that? I talked to Putin, told him flat and he was fine with it. Surprise! Some Russian’s saying that’s all lies.
We need to recoup what we spent. Five hundred billion dollars went on Biden’s watch. That was a crime so now I’m saying it’s payback time. They have these minerals, rare earth. Sound great, and God knows what they’re worth. Zelenskyy shouldn’t have picked that fight but here’s his chance to put it right. He’s a dictator, on the ropes who shouldn’t raise his people’s hopes. Sometimes I get the sense he’s dumb. He comes here looking like a bum. This is the White House. Would it hurt to wear a tie, or iron a shirt? Vance got it right. He can’t expect a handout till he shows respect.
Who might get hurt, and how they feel don’t matter. I just do the deal. Gaza’s a dream, to say the least Riviera in the Middle East. Online they have this video how it could look. It’s quite the show. A crossroads in the heart of town has this huge statue looking down. Magnficent, it’s brave and bold, a superhuman made of gold that everyone looks up to see. Yup, it’s a monument to me.
There’s me and Bibi in our shorts relaxing, thinking big men’s thoughts each with a cocktail in his hand while Elon jumps around the sand; he’s so relaxed, without a care as dollar bills fall through the air.
Some of the Christians in my base think blasphemy is out of place. That night club footage where I dance with gorgeous girls in skimpy pants. Hey, lighten up. It’s just good fun. Enjoy the beach, enjoy the sun. OK, I’m on a par with God. I don’t get why that seems so odd.
Believe me, things will stay this way. Republicans will all obey Cause crossing me would mean defeat. They know that Musk can buy their seat. They get the message, scroll the news, There’s no way I shall ever lose. This is my moment, it’s my hour; I am an addict, hooked on power.
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Paul Francis taught in comprehensive schools for thirty years, and lives in Much Wenlock, Shropshire. He is currently active as a writer and performer on the West Midlands poetry scene. He has a paper copy of The Guardian delivered every day, and couldn’t write poems without it. In 2024 he won the Enfield poetry competition, and had a poem published in the VER anthology. In 2025 he’s had a poem commended in the VERVE competition.
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