Poem: The monstrosity of power

Today I am posting a newly written poem, “The Monstrosity of Power”.

 

The monstrosity of power

Eyes make an abyss, and we swim in pain.
The iron staff, tipped in blood,
Discarded on Persian carpets,
Extinguishes the last truth of this dynasty.

The scrawled notes instructing murder
In the margins of decrees,
Urging the necessity of firing squads,
Tell the secret truth of this revolution.

The shaking voice and remembered tears
In the Prime Minister’s courtyard,
After the factions take down their man,
Speak the silenced truth of this parliament.

Blue bloody murder still stalks our halls.
Into the whirlpool the dying demos falls.

 

Jeff Rich, Melbourne, 2018

 

Image Credit: Ilya Repin, Ivan the Terrible and his son 1885, Tretyakov Gallery

 

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