Bijay Kant Dubey

The Super Comrade - Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Mr.Communist as the super man, the super brain
Working for the spread of communism,
I mean the Marxist ideology

Reading the People’s Power newspaper,
Asking it distribute and subscribe to,
A spokesman
Of the comrades and cadres,
Waging a war against the rightists,
Doing the propaganda.

A party office full-timer, he is a party man,
Eating, sleeping sand living
And dreaming in the party office
With the party men.

The Communist Manifesto as the Bible of his
And he reading it daily and deriving from
In art, culture, philosophy, politics, history and sociology,
Modelling as per his theory.

To crush the democratic movements, to censure the press,
To curtail the freedom of speech and expression,
The first thing to be targeted,
To put an end to in a bloody way.

All his personal talks, beliefs, views and friendships,
Speeches, lectures, writings
Smack of Marx, Marx, Marxism,
Lenin, Lenin, Leninism,
Stalin, Stalin, Stalinism,
Mao, Mao, Maoism.

Marx, Lenin, Stalin and Mao,
He cannot go beyond this,
They all seated within
And suppose he is a Ram-bhakta hanuman
And is asked to show his heart tearing,
Ram and Sita not,
Marx, Lenin, Stalin and Mao will come out.

To bifurcate society the hidden agenda and strategy of his,
The first job and priority of his,
To divide and rule,
Sow the seeds of animosity and poison
By terming them the haves and the have-nots,
The bourgeois and the proletarians,
The capitalists and labourers,
The rich and the poor,
The well-up-in and the downtrodden,
The exploiters and the exploited.

They see everything in terms of party and politics,
Upkeeping of power
As are power-handlers,
Regimenting and recruiting cadres
From the comrades,
Asked to stand by the people and to get them obliged
By being with during birth and death.

Political science, history, philosophy, sociology,
Economics, literature,
They see it all with the Marxist views
And Marx and Marxism is in all,
Whatever read you,
To communize the brain their hidden job.

Real power is into the hands of the unionists
And the mother organization looking after, nurturing them,
The secretaries more powerful
And powered with committees,
The executive can do nothing,
Everything has to come through
The committee and its recommendations.

To flex the muscle, hold power rallies,
Arrange for it in each and every locality
And to keep a watch on the participation or representation
From each and every house
Their man-to-man news collected and gathered
To be discussed in the local party office.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 8, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, August 28, 2013

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