The great leader
The perfect Christmas father is dead and all that’s his is mine
The perfect today I rule this crumbling place through this inane overfed child man
The perfect days to come we mourn our glorious leader surely we will feast on rice and crickets and rest our scabbed feet, we will not be so cold this winter due the heat of change will warm our bones.
Fools, what warmth, what feat? A full belly breeds a yapping mouth, wagging tongues, barking loud requests. People are not for ease, ease that makes them soft as rising bread they dream to eat.
Wheat must not be wasted on the wasteful waster as rice is a grain eat grass, like the Hindu’s sacred ones and be as plump as them. Let the weakest be our sustenance.
They come in the evening light with their missiles of mischief to find our Brutus to this boy Cesar. And I would be Mark Anthony.
What say we push this fragile structure and watch it fall?
The perfect Christmas father is dead and all that’s his is mine
His debts, his ill will his ugly nose, hat and boots.
His machine that does not run, his crumbling mud hut his scurrying wives.
Call them all up chase them all out anyone that remains use the machete.
First let every single one of them leave an item of value to pay the wretch’s ways and she who does not the machete I say.
Sift through piles of tin cups and clay pots, through every single container, bundle or plastic bag.
Get for me what I can and torch the rest. Off to the city the leader is dead.
I heard what happened in your father’s compound, you could have been kinder.
Is it not enough that it is spent all here on you, is your mistress not smiling at you finally. Their tears for your joys give it back if your heart is so good. Feed me so that I may leave my fortunes are with the new leader his father is dead as is mine.
You could stay here with me and buy your father’s post, we could be together.
My lot is not for waste with bit parts and used persons. Feed me, there are more pleasurable games than current. Our business begins when I pay and ends with my pocket empty.
You hide nothing from me
I hide nothing from you and now I am famished again
I am the new great leader I want a pink elephant. A pink elephant with white trunks and tusks the size of columns and lorry size feet, and more.
Great leader would you not prefer to pick your wives or better still hear matters of state the world is waiting our next move is crucial to your reign, your future.
My reign is eternal! You taught me that and as for wives and State your mistake your death.
You go with her always and let her base hand on your hair your skin your appealing face. I offer you more, yet my gifts you leave trampled.
Woman my ears! I am fed and nourished do you wish to add more to enough.
No! I speak as one who feels for you. No! do not shudder away from my words. I am true to you.
You give too much and lose the value. I value those that can add to mine, get me to the ears of power and I will consider you.
The new leader wants a pink elephant!
I ask for seriousness and you give me jokes?
He wants a pink elephant it is all he asks for as the world waits.
Bah! Dress a wild boar and colour it pink, tell him it is a tiny elephant that grows with its master.
And when the animal refuses to grow?
A pink elephant is rare it grows with its master.
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