'' It's The Cull They Prefer '' Poem by Bri Mar

Trump say yes,
Putin says no,
Why all the stress,
Let the blood flow.

Let us both fight,
Man to man,
Trump says right,
The flames we'll fan.

Queensberry rules?
Putin agrees,
This pair of fools,
Can do what they please.

Stripped to the waist,
Let the fight begin,
Act in haste,
You just cannot win.

As they eye each other,
It's victory or bust,
The truth they smother,
That's what's unjust,

When the real fighting starts,
They won't be there,
Their entourage departs,
For us they don't care.

Take it nice and steady,
Our enemies we'll thump,
We are armed and ready,
Say Putin and Trump.

As they fire their ballistics,
Neither can be found,
Those killed are statistics,
To those underground.

When the fighting ends,
They'll both re-appear,
As they make amends,
Those dead disappear.

To the futility of fighting,
They are both unaware,
Why bother uniting,

‘' It's The Cull They Prefer ‘'