around the ring of fire
continents burn
in the blistering logic
of claims to islands and air spaces,
waters lapping on wrong shores
cultures and creeds
unearthed from a hazy past

The crew-cut dictator
still stands at attention
at a starving army decorated like peacocks
for a world watching

rockets out of fuel and fire
damp squids plonking in nearby oceans
decorated with plastic medals
sycophants
saluting goose steppers
with polished ironies
and propaganda to hold power
within themselves

the bonfire burns bright
as people perish without bread

crew-cut is unable to see them die
myopic vision and overseas education
he will also have to die one day
with porcelain soldiers
guarding his tombstone.

sad. anyone crying?
**** the ones that don't.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago