The Age of the Assassin
Oh pathetic Head of State!
There you faint with head poised straight.
“Superstar”—so you are,
Sober still ‘neath ev’ry star.
You wear the mask of strong emotion,
While causing no real great commotion.
God-like with the Atom Bomb;
Weak-kneed in a woman’s charm.
Perfectly potent is your pose;
Visibly shaken is your prose.
Fake vim stakes your foreign plank,
With hopes that foes clinch bull’s-eyes blank.
Red-faced top chief: The Apocalypse?
Pee-brained ally to Political Pimps.
Your signals set flags unfurled;
Your powers shame this our world.
15 July 1987