Born in the dead of winter,
under a pale Siberian moon
Thrust from the womb
by the throes of his mother’s death,
he took his first premature breath
Cursed carnivorous seed
from the Cossack line of Tubal-cain
was his Magog given name
Raised to believe 
that democracy was a disease
A western swine flu,
which made people delusional
Everyone believing they’re equal to the czar,
crazy thinking that challenged 
the rule of the Cossack warrior clan
Only one man had the right to rule the land — 
he who severed the bejeweled hand
that held the royal scepter
Rusher ... 
the blood snow pentagram picked him
Now he patiently plots the fall of the broken kingdoms 
of the west
Subversively making cyber calls
to create more civic unrest
Then sitting back to watch
the thread of democracy unravel
Become a tangled mess
Rusher ... 
born to die a beastly death,
Got innocent blood dripping from the tongue
of his premature bruin’s breath 

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 9/13/2017 12:43:00 AM
The story and metaphors ... Very well done ... Thanks, Freddie, for your effusive appreciation of my Hurricanes ...
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Date: 9/12/2017 9:16:00 PM
I love the pace and the metaphors in this poem. I can understand it fully. It is excellent dramatic verse.
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Date: 9/12/2017 4:40:00 PM
Another very clever write, Freddie! Satire meets chronicle here, with impressive results!
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