At twelve I was aware of the world.
News flash during Ramar Of The Jungle:
Joseph Stalin dead of a heart attack.
I jumped up and yelled through
my house as if the Devil
himself had finally been slain.
When he had a traitor executed,
the whole family was killed
like Achan’s tribe at Jericho.
Terrorizing the population,
sent his soldiers into big cities,
to murder a few thousand innocents.
Slew over half of his advisors.
Would throw parties, shoot
those not drunk enough.
Chased down Trotsky in Mexico.
Axed Leon, his comrade
who dared to oppose him.
Loved flowers but at the end
nightly commanded his gardeners
to decapitate every blossom
and replace the flowers the next day
for another pogrom of his garden.
Absolute power over more people
than anyone in history, estimates
of over 20 million slaughtered.
Why obeisance to the One,
allow One to dominate us,
allow One to kill so many,
allow One to hoard the wealth,
bend the knee to One,
kiss the ring of One?
Now his soul-less mate
Putin, replicating fear and complicity—
purges, poison, propaganda—
arises as the One.
Tyrants line the bloodstained
corridor of history.
Against all odds, heroes
defy the powerful,
battle against the One.
Originally published in The Bezine