mr president

A Poem by Ro Alba

mr president,
i’d like to pose a question.
it being:
would you end the world?
or rather:
would you end the world, if it benefitted you?

i think you would.
i think you stopped seeing the world’s beauty once it became a source of profit.
i think when it made you money, it became a tool rather than a home

i think suddenly you lost the urge
to uphold humanity’s stewardship
and exercise your perceived dominion.

so imagine, humour me:
it would be so easy
a button before you
the colour of blood
and labelled “sell earth”
and the earth holding its breath,
in amongst the smog that built your career
propelled you to have the power to decide
humanity’s fate.
to have the world
quite literally
at your fingertips.

does this entice you?

would you maintain your classic empathetic facade, mr president?

give them a reason that you’ve killed their world?

tell them “you can drill more oil, if there’s nothing else to sustain!”
tell them “you can kill the mind-virus, if you kill everyone!”

would you?

after all,
enough propaganda
enough misinformation
enough nonsense masked as altruism-
it can make you anything
in the tiny minds of your voters.
enough lies, and anything could happen.

you know this well.
you know too, that the world will pay for your lies.

the lies that fill your pockets
but as long as you don’t pay

who cares?