Mao’s on the wall.
Mao’s on the cat,
Mao’s the cat,
And Mao’s on the truck.
Mao’s tucked text.
Mao’s still the cat
Mao’s on the hat;
And Mao’s rendered stencil.
Mao draped in red,
Mao embalmed vacuum,
Mao smiling dirt
And Mao in slaughter;
The good, the bad,
The, “godly,” great
The ’89 slaughtered, ugly,
And as putrid as the scholars
Being spat upon.
So Mao’s tempered glass
And Mao’s tempered solemn,
Surrounded a spectacle,
When I, Mao and I,
Author and other, other and
Away, gaze eye-to-eye with,
“Before.”
His are closed,
Mine, unblinking.
I think of heroes,
I, “tinker,” butchers,
And ponder,
“Just,” and to the right of,
Right,” what is, “right?”
Would he have been?
Would she have been?
Would I have been?
“Right?”
Just what the hell is,” right?”
I get it, the 1989 Tienanmen Square Massacre occurred under Deng Xiaoping, but Mao's policies laid the seeds for said devastation. The point is, some have asked me to post some more, "China," poetry, so here it is - 2007 and a visit to his mausoleum; as creepy as any corpse'd be. Oddly enough, I've studied him quite a bit, he had good intentions, but the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Oddly enough again, most of the young here can't stand him. Either way - Dictators at home, dictators abroad, they tell us what's "right," but what really is?
