Bong Bong
(Or What’s wrong with democracy)
No one denies that almost half of the people who voted in that election did choose Trump. That a great many millions of Pakistanis welcomed the resurgence of the kleptocratic Sharifs when Imran Khan was ousted. The outrageous Modi won the count hands down. The British, who saw all the japes of Johnson gave him a landslide victory. Almost half the French electorate put their crosses against Marine Le Pen’s name. To say nothing of the millions who applaud the ludicrous Zemmour. Seventy percent of Russians approve of Putin’s actions. Italians voted for Berlusconi in droves. And now Bong Bong Marcos has won a landslide victory in The Philippines .On the streets of Manilla voters said that they chose Bong Bong, who, having inherited the billions his father stole, will not need to pilfer the coffers of the nation. What a reason to vote for the heir of the biggest thief the world has known! Whither democracy? Withering on the vine?
A glowing c.v. full of fake heroism
Fighting against Japanese barbarism…
CIA documents later uncovered
His claims to be fraudulent and downright absurd
Ferdinand Marcos was not the first to invent
A glowing brand new biography which was meant
To portray him in a positive light
Resisting invasion and organising the fight
When his own father had welcomed the invaders
He married beauty queen Imelda Romualdez
Who the poor worshipped as their own princess
That’s what you do when your own life’s a mess
She became Bonnie Parker to his Clyde Barrow
Who stole so they never had to beg or borrow
But he managed to bamboozle the electors
As a first step to becoming a dictator
First he became the country’s president
Presiding over its tragic descent
Into the pit of chaos and kleptocracy
Pretending to be defending democracy
Unflinchingly praised by the White house
As a bulwark ‘gainst the Chinese communist louse.
Opponents were targeted by death squads
Carrying out Marcos-inspired jihads
Against unarmed activists and opponents
As a clear and stern warning against dissent
Their mutilated bodies left out
For all to see and be in no doubt
About who in the country was the boss
Enough is enough, clean your act Marcos
This took his Yankee masters thirty years to say
Or henceforth we each go our own way
He had not expected his friends would rock his boat
Demanding a UN monitored ballot
When Aquino won they half wished that they had not
But clearly he had become expendable
Even erstwhile allies thought him contemptible
Reagan gave instructions to the C.I.A
To facilitate his move and take him away
To Hawaii to be under Yankee protection
Thus escaping much deserved retribution
His sordid reign in dishonour had ended
But they did not leave the country empty-handed
American dollars in twenty-two crates
Twenty crates of silver cups and plates
Three hundred and three crates of jewellery
Ten boxes of solid gold cutlery
Sixty-six Seiko and Cartier watches
Silk, mohair and vicuna in untold batches
A coffin full of pearls and gems twelve foot long
From Manila museum, antiques from Hong Kong
A three-foot gold statue studded with diamonds
Suitcases of bank receipts from the Caymans
No less than twenty-four solid gold bricks
And a staggering number of silver sticks
An ivory statue of the infant Jesus
So sacrilegious it should amaze us
With a silver mantle and a diamond necklace
But to the couple that didn’t seem out of place
What the Messiah said about the camel
And the eye of the needle they heard not too well
Boxes, barrels, suitcases, etcetera
In their rush, the hydra-footed Imelda
Had no time to pack her two thousand pairs of shoes
(So many shoes for so few feet)
So many mouths for so little feed!)
But she shrugged not about to blow a fuse
Let the looters do their worst in Malacanang
They were safe in Hawaii, the world could go hang.
To that sad tale of greed there was an epilogue
As death seemed imminent to the thieving rogue
He made the astounding if touching offer
To ninety percent of his loot hand over
To the cash-strapped Philippino state
If Cory would allow him, once he became late
To rest his wearied and guilty bones within touch
In the land he had loved and looted so much
Of his mum’s and dad’s graves in Manila
Where in waft fragrant scents of vanilla
For the amnesiacs here’s a recapitulation of Ferdinand Marcos’ reign
