This work-in-progress poem title
is meant to be provocation.
What he actually was
is a murderer of innocent people.
When you come to think of it,
so many leftist revolutionaries are.
They have the carnage inside them.
The irrantional wish to impose
their defective ontologies
on everybody else,
by means of bullet and blood.
On even days, it makes laugh
to see his idealised portrait
in the garments of some youth.
The rest of the days I think
it is pretty sad
that such abominations are extolled
and praised,
when everything is wrong about them.
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