Chanda Katonga Poet Free verse

Prince of Oil

I saw him
in the White House.
The red carpet rolled out.
A royal welcome.
A perfect illusion.

They studied him.
They saw his weakness.
Ego.
And they fed it
like a hungry god.

He wanted to feel
like a king.
So they crowned him
with fake respect.
Fake love.
A mask of honor
hiding a knife.

To them
he is not a friend.
He is a strategy.
A movable piece
on America’s chessboard.
A pawn 
in a game
far older than him.

They want his kingdom.
They want his oil.
They want Israel’s throne
strong and unchallenged.
He is only the bridge
to their ambitions.

Let him remember
the Shah of Iran.
A beloved ally.
Wined.
Dined.
Praised.
Then abandoned
in a single move.
Checkmated.
Destroyed.

America and Iran
were lovers once.
Today
they are sworn enemies.
This is the nature
of power without loyalty.

The wise
learn from history.
The foolish
become history.

America
is a wild animal.
It cannot be tamed.
Its friendship
is measured
by usefulness.
Not affection.
Not truth.

Today
they call him hero.
Tomorrow
they may call him terrorist.
Such is the script
they write for others.

He is young.
He is powerful.
But power
without wisdom
is a trap
laid for itself.

He is not the first
to be deceived.
He will not be the last.

Time
will be his teacher.
History
will be his judge.

And the oil
he thinks is protection
may become
the very fire
that consumes him.

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