Machiavelli through his verbose veil
Peers at seers of the recent roadshow
And leers at queers, beers and steers his somber sail
Into the Black Sea to see Vladimir Putin to plot how
Cyclops in dreary dollops can bring United Europe
To her knock knees despite her petrified pleas
To underplay bleary Brexit and waylay Mr Foxy FixIt whose delirium dope
Swims steadily in a neuter neuron filled with blue boron fleas
Fleeing from the interior of sanity to the exterior of a cavity
Drilled by psychopaths who dismiss petty pushers, epicurean homos, Moslems, Mexicans
Whom they label mundane miscreants whose unity
Threatens tens of plans pushed to the core of croaky cans
Where huge horrors hustle hippies
Whose hairstyle they deride
As their poppycock pride parades indignities
On which Mr Foxy FixIt is yet to decide whether to glide, slide or ride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem