Sunday, March 20, 2011

The Bones of Bolívar

Portrait of Simon Bolivar by Anonymous (ca.1829)
The Bones of Bolívar

How deluded dares a despot?

How desperate and bizarre?

Sit back and hear the sad tale of

The Bones of Bolívar.

A man named Simón once there was,

General in Freedom's War,

e'er marked down by Historia

as El Libertador.

For Sovereign Rights, Natural Law,

and Private Property

he rallied forces against Spain,

these Things to guarantee.

Like Heroes in The North, he fought

and soon, both near and far,

The Southern Continent was freed

by Simón Bolívar.

But as time passed he saw his dream

misused, misunderstood

and feared he only "plowed the tide"

for future thug and hood.

For while the North had Founders full,

Simón and South had few

and some of those thought Republic

a foolish thing to do.

So Simón made his sad mistake

which haunts him to this day:

he had himself declared supreme

to keep those wolves at bay.

While intentions may have been pure

and legacy immense,

he gave to villains image false

to use in their defense.

When Death found him, a broken man;

regrets, uncertainty

filled his last thoughts, all was for naught

to make The People free.

And once he died men said their words

and soon denied their debt;

"Convenient Myths" convenient men

conveniently forget.

And now a petty thug Hugo

enslaves that southern land,

through fraud and fist and fear and fib

forces his red command.

He learned from ev'ry tyrant mad

to make People obey,

like Cuban crimelord Castro and

his psycho-killer Che.

There are no depths he will not plumb

to wear his precious crown:

he'll fix Elections, silence Speech,

and shut Industry down,

punish Dissenters, run The Press,

and hold The People slaves,

he'll trample bodies, step on skulls,

and even dig up graves.

He acts the fool before the world,

so Simón's words came true:

plowing the sea for thugs, Chávez,

means he predicted you.

Yet with his head made out of huff

and heart made out of stone,

Hugo dares to compare himself

night and day to Simón!

But one sowed Locke; the other, Marx.

So, know them by their fruits

(that renegordo is not fit

to spit shine Simón's boots!).

Bolívar didn't make his name

through petulance and gall.

He didn't torture diplomats

making Peace through fútbol.

He used his power with regret

to salvage what he could,

and not to serve as role model

for power hungry hood.

He didn't posture, and pretend,

and aggrandize himself,

and didn't claim Utopia

and point to empty shelf.

Despite all this the world's "elites"

give to Chávez prestige,

as our ivy league overlords

claim rule is best by liege,

as to him puppet Barry O.

extends bestring-ed hand,

as dread king Soros deals him in

to further spite Our Land.

But we here in The North don't trust

our "elites" or our king,

as The South doesn't trust Hugo

or his red following.

So Hugo turned more paranoid

and spun a fable grim:

assassins took out Bolívar

and now they'll take out him.

But Bolívar died sick in bed,

consumption fatal grew.

Still, Hugo had Simón dug up

to foist fable as true.

So speak these words as oft you will

in loud resounding tones:

"The grave of Simón was defiled,

Chávez dug up his bones."

Tyrants obsessed so with a man

will not just let him lie,

they'll reach their ends by any means:

Dead Heroes, You, or I.

So let's affirm it plain and clear,

so there'll be no dispute:

he's a special kind of crazy,

still the "elites" stand mute.

But Bolívar who battled Spain,

would join Juan Carlos, Rey,

and shout at Hugo if he could,

¿No te callas, por qué?

From Hugo he'd take back his sword

and end that tyranny

del Piqueño Renegordo

and set The People free.

But Death comes even to Chávez;

Castros, Ortegas fall,

and Simón, like Historia,

is waiting for them all.