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.
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