Jolly Jair Bolsonaro, the Elmer Fudd of our times, may think he’s a ‘mighty hunter before the Lord,’ but all poor Nimrod has managed to net is a totally abysmal reputation across the globe for his shockingly bad COVID-19 non-response.
Bumptious Bolsonaro seems to think he’s some kind of world-historical figure, like Napoleon. Well, he’s certainly made his mark and put his presidency on the map; then again, so did Nebuchadnezzar and what he’s gained in attention, he’s most certainly lost in love, as per a certain time-honoured Rivers of Babylon song!
Pretty damn fetching, huh?!
Guess that’s not saying much though… er-hem.
Anyroad! Here we are:
Bolshie Bolsonaro: Ironic Ode to the Nimrod of Brazil!
Bolshie’s Twitter’s e’er with trepidation read
Diverting from the ever-mounting dead
For ere their limbs grew stiff and cold
Bolshie Blue on Covid, he did troll
Bolshie, treading haughty head held high
Mummers, all-indifferent, that some may live, and some indeed may die
O snatchy little Grinch! O tricksy pox of sneer
A blood-steeped flag of blue he’s flying here
Quoth ‘I shall not die!’ (albeit, thine infant might)
Plotting foul excuses day and night
Hellbent, he must renege on every vow
Who dares ignore his bull-roared, blaring colours now?
Looms the scarlet tyrant high
Red and blue, undead they die
A bandit’s pinch, a nihilist’s sneer
His old blue sickle still is cutting here
O muse thee well on tyrants present, past
If e’er thou dream’st of peace at last
Thine eyes be bright, thy speaking plain
And pay no heed to Mammon’s stolen gain
Covid deaths sky-high to high
What boots it he, who lives or dies?
Lower the winch with coffin’s timber near
He’ll keep his corpses safe and sheltered here
Self-named noble, in verity ever-base,
Plainting always, on history’s dues and sense of place
Yet hypocrisy’s shadow his apologia doth cast down
Naught but another Mammon’s oligarch, of pilfered crown!
Abase all standards, low or high
What profits thee to live or die
A barley’s measure, hurt not strong beer
Was Babylon’s mystery ever sought so clear?
Unbared fist, come one come all
And Postlapsarian mediocrity be thy fall
Except, perchance dungeons dark and gallows grim
Be no hindrance to thy valiant martyr hymn…
O people! Then beware th’entangling snares of left and right
Venture now thine heart to seek a nobler fight
Though Fascists vicious snarl, and Marxists sullen growl
Let neither Red nor Blue turn aside, nor vanquish
Th’unconquered, blest, untarnished, better virtues of thy souls!
P.S. Dear readers: despite my not-so-elegant little poetic conceit above, my main focus these days is on religiophobia and the challenge of renewing universalism and pluralism in an increasingly post-secular world. Do keep watching to find out more!