Ciao Ceaucescu - Poem by Jonathan ROBIN
Securitate’s logic absolute
political ambitions can’t confute:
for presidential power persists an hour,
then price is paid - though putschists all dispute.
Prompt as the cock crows, regiments en route
strategic centres strike, then persecute
attempts by democrats, whose scattered flower
is blasted by the storm, despite the chute.
A U.S. State Department parachute.
A firing squad dispatched to prosecute.
A travesty of trial within an hour,
with no appeal and therefore no commute.
From squad commander to the raw recruit
all zealous rush, are spurred to execute
pro Russian rulers while the people cower,
or pivot, U turn they perceive astute.
As strings to puppet strings are passed, pursuit
of opposition forces may not mute, -
from scarcity to famine’s now the dower
most must endure, as few stay resolute.
We may still see Democracy’s green shoot,
no longer lost, from cold war frost, uproot
red face, replace with freedom which won’t sour, -
supporting principles none prostitute!
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