Up the revolution, Brother!
The tyrant is gone
she left the country with our national treasury
in a briefcase laid across her famous thighs.
A flawless escape
we never knew till far too late.
"Cruel dictator!"
we cried
vandalized her palace
shaking in furious mob orgasm
a revisionist frenzy
we tore through streets shattering statues
erasing her features with spraypaint slogans
hastily composed.
While a radical element takes up forsaken reign
our solid citizens
bewildered by loss
fearing absence of her law
vainly await trains she kept on time.
As the executions begin
furtive prayers go forth in supplication
come back tyrant
come love
we will support a coup détat.
tyrant love