Ceausescu

Old man, I resemble you in inversions With your palace plucked from A ninth cloud and dragged as An infant's relentless screech Crying inevitably for attention And contributing nothing save slavery I would dine upon it How I killed God and pulled the next Kingdom into palace gates How envious they would be! Smuggled into a devil gorge and starving into pieces It is like lilac, calming but altogether unconvincing I would fall to my hands and knees Digging a perplexion of graves within rock bottom Swallowing the communion wafer of a bullet My blood, a revolution And my shattered bones consumed.