Mexican drug barons, global business men, power hungry politicians, food stamp financiers, second hand sex slaves, Washington street walkers, Hollywood stars, the C.I.A., the cocaine service providers, the border, immigration problems, all part of a day in the life, of Mr President. Spy satellites everywhere, they admit to spying they were exposed on the issue, no time to spin this time, good excuse required. Think terror, all the tragedies we avoided, don’t mention the drone hits, and the children terminated. Edward Snowden seeking a safe haven with the Taliban, they’ve a hand over him, get it,no one, Barack playing basketball in the Sudan, or is it Senegal, he’ll talk about women’s issues all day, release a joint statement in the evening, I wonder if there’ll be anything to get high on, while the above is being attended to, morphed into foreign and national policy, hundreds of million of little children, are being exposed to nuclear waste of the most damaging kind., the global sexualisation of everything possible. What I do in my bedroom …continue to argue, it might make you sound good, but it changes zilch. The ten year old is looking at his little sister, does she do those things as well he’s asking himself. When the urge hits him late at night who knows what he will do. Well he’s seen it on the internet and they seemed like they all enjoyed it. The three and four years olds, fodder for the next line of sexual fever, assume it’s normal too, and step by step, this disease has spread, from the east to the west, north and south, and these children and teens young adults of today, the supposedly new providers of seed for the planet earth. Your DNA is a combination of heritage and experience combined. If all you see is sexual you, what do you think will be left behind, sounds like a line in one of those songs Bono.
Sexuality whatever, marriage, cornerstone of hope, hope your reliable, will history be so kind to you all. One in million, all that will be remembered of you, apart from those images they have, stuck in some deep closet space they open every five years. That was grand pa, who was grand pa, next, that..grand pa forgotten. God Most High is the farmer of all farmers, looking down he’s wondering too, the silence so long. Whistle blowers are as rare as escapees from extermination camps, at risk every moment they live. Control the message get it out there Barack, seems to be the call from all those great people you have around you. This will go on for ever, did you see what we did to Vietnam, place is still producing children with short limbs and deformities since we sent that agent orange stuff in, we got away with that.
Don’t mention the waste they dump in the med and off the Somali coast, well someone has to take our shit, someone else, someone poor, some old corrupt regime. Barack is playing black jack on the presidential jet, rehearsing some speech, probably an old one, just a guess, surrounded by the news crew, the folks who give him good reviews, his head bothered, his hair is grey, what an insane thing to do he thinks, I prayed to God to be the change, and ended up like ... Hollywood acting career beckons again, the plane lands on foreign tarmac, the heat is 102, but he’s fit from all that basketball, his body is lean too, opens his mouth with that 180 degree smile, and you think he’s looking at you. We are a world of addicts, isn’t that what idolatry is, looking in the mirror and fooling yourself.