x

Uber delivers you your order from MacDonalds.

Now you can relax and watch the game.

A pop trash white who has somehow risen to the top,

As monarch now you might be constitutional

But you’re not. Rather, you choose to do whatever crops up.

Where previous dictators offered bread and circuses

You publicly incarcerate some other head of state.

x

The strategy distracts from your fondlings of pretty things:

Those you permitted to touch your dick with gloves on

Because staying clean afforded insulation from sin

While you turned into a god. Anyhow,

That was a long time ago.

Just urine under the bridge, as it were.

These days, there is no international law.

x

Time may well fold inward,

Because you cannot drown the sun or not for long.

But at a stroke, your time has come.

And you are clearly one of our vicious new barbarians

Squatting on the pile below, taking a shit

When you feel like it, soiling your own throne.

But how to turn your shit into explosive?

x

Anger feels more urgent than forgiveness.

So advertise some anger, gladly in cahoots

With all the other puppeteers: uber-wealthy engineers

Of abductions, massacres, assassinations,

Lab-created plagues. Trash white with cash,

You may have been, but now you’re more inclined

To care about your own genetic line:

x

Barbarian, re-branded as elite. In the eyes of its mother after all,

A cockroach is a gazelle. Thus there’s a wing

Of the White House demolished to accommodate your balls

Where clumsy curtseys elevate a tacky gilt aplomb.

Trash whites today are scum to be dumped with the trash.

Ordinary mortals? Ants, to be sprayed with Glyphosate.

We are mere pests to be rid of – abroad or at home.

x