Viva La Revolucion

strange cheThe revolution started sixty years ago
Driving beat up trucks and rusty holsters
With satellite ambitions and fostered dreams
Like Daedelus they climbed the sky
They were angry with strong voices, young, so new
Ambitious, overturning, every cart toppled
Torn down every approbation, swearing every scar
Would be repaid in blood and famine and torture.
No razor sheared these Nazarites,
Delilah’s amorous looks were lost on them
The god of love, that fat little baby shot arrows off in vain.
Where grasshoppers pounced they plotted, schemed
Plodded daily through the muddy tracks,
Flies buzzing overhead, mosquitos biting,
Skin welting up like tattoos proclaiming their zeal,
The prophecy of their victory assured in the toil,
Razed, ruined, every enemy, every friend not close enough
Until they reached Havana, or Moscow, or San Salvador;
That promised land where the tyrant is the people’s tyrant,
A murderer is a patriot, and Che Guevara’s shirts are sold
At Disneyland.


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