After Rimbaud

I’ll move to Africa where I’ll run guns
And in the evening sleep with prostitutes
Bought with the money from the sale of weapons
That will be used for who knows what pursuits
Because I will not ask what they’re used for;
My only interest will be the profit
I’ll make by selling them; if it’s for war
I won’t feel bad because I didn’t start it.

If blood is spilled it won’t be on my head
But on the hands who use those guns to kill
Their enemies while I will be in bed
With whores who make my nights so pleasurable

That I won’t care about the way I made
That money which I pay them to get laid.

Paul Bussan

If you have any comments on this poem, Paul Bussan would be pleased to hear them.