There’s a place for you
in a wax museum
reserved right next
to a North Korean
with a trumpet in your hand
and singing a song
with a red star band
led by Kim il Jong,
reserved for you
by Vlad the Impaler.
He’s smoking your cigar
by his tornado trailer.
There are a few
who call evil good,
who kiss the mud
wherever you stood,
But Lenin’s tomb
is full of rot,
and you’re a monster
just like Pol Pot.
Of course, this little thing (like those below, to the meter of “Six More Miles…”) is about Fidel Castro.
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3 comments:
I like that. I think I will link it if you do not mind.
I do not mind at all. I am both honored and honoured even to receive a comment, not to dream of a link.
As usual, I'm moved beyond words at the things you write and the childlike wonder even in something as polemical as this.
I'll link it too.
Cirillio
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