Monday, August 4, 2014

Happy Birthday, O Dear Leader, Year Six

A procession to pay tribute to a shogun. “The History of Japan” by Engelbert Kaempfer (1727)
Happy Birthday, O Dear Leader,
Year Six
What's left?

A crisis grips Nouveau Versailles

each time this day draws near,

Dear Leader's birthday means their

tribute has come due this year.

So, the question they wrestle with

as brows knit and hands wring:

“What does one get the tyrant who

now has got ev'rything?”

He's got a pen, and telephone,

and lockstep slavish press,

and jackboot tax collecting hordes,

and cowardly congress,

and ivy legion sausages,

and children singing hymns,

and taxpayers who have no choice

but fund his marxist whims.

He's got a party of scorched earth,

and hollywood in swoon,

and half our People demonized

as terrorist or loon,

and business cronies “playing ball”,

and generation theft,

and hundred flowers Internet...

so what is really left?

Perhaps the sword that chávez stole

from Simón Bolívar,

or a new flag with red, gold stripes,

with sole soviet star,

or in each town a statue raised

of our dear leader's form,

or a brand new allegiance pledge

to this, the “new world” norm?

Ideas plentiful abound

if they would only try:

utopian graveyards abound

if they'd just cast an eye.

But let them fret original,

I won't make that attempt -

my gift's the same as ev'ry year:

my not-kneeling-contempt.

Yes, once again, a little verse,

words Country Class unkempt -

Happy Birthday, O Dear Leader:

card, box, bow, and contempt.