Mister Baggins

 Your grey pride
Ash on thick jungle
A simpleton stutters and spits you out

Burning bridges in Brasilia
Tell us how the pastel tastes
while it singes our tongues

The scissors were closer, throw away the lawnmower
so you cut the lawn for months

obsessed with the sound of your own laughter
you postid noted your sons
So you could vaguely remember

You traded lakes of fresh water
For reservoirs of your own ego
A patriotic carioc an oxy-moron
conjecture your beautiful ammunition
accusation your cannon

You sold lofty ideals
To people still battling their lurid musts
Traditional sugar and disease