The fiscal snare is drawing tight Putin’s day... now courting night, Rouble tilts vertiginously To Satan’s **** religiously. Fiscal snare is drawing blood A trickle then... is now a flood, Russia’s central bank adjusts But ineffectually, combusts. Hard line prospects elbow dance Aligning for assasins lance.
Perhaps…. Better now, the Devil known Than facing down an Unknown throne….. Facing down an Iron call With finger poised in nuclear thrall.
What choice now for ego’s Prince Retreat from Eastern Ukraine’s wince? Retreat Crimea’s balmy shores To face the nationalistic howl of hordes? Brinkmanship…the other way A gamble that the West might sway?
Either way the game is up Now bitter wine brims Russia’s cup.