THE king playing his part in a strait
jacket, his excuses belly -up, and fall
to the side, he makes a fist, try to
fight his way out, but all he does is fall
to his knees, see, says the strait jacket,
you are no longer the king.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
AHHH..THE DREADED STRUGGLE FOR POWER...'ELL OF A WRITE UP ON THE WHITE HOUSE...HAH! GOOD INNOVATION...STRONG MESSAGING... YOU ARE MOST CREDUOUSLY A FINE WRITER, DAVID....GOT A CHANCE TO READ SEVERAL MORE OF YOUR WORKS THIS MORNING...QUITE IMPRESSIVE PENNING.......FRANK