PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sing, Muses, of the Workers' Paradise.

This country has quickly industrialized.

Many once daunting tasks are mechanized.

The naked truth is clad in tailored lies.

The Czar's grip strangled common liberty.

He has been cast off, rather ruthlessly.

The Bolsheviks abolished monarchy;

killed the Greek roots of aristocracy;

and exiled personal nobility.

Beneath the fluttering flags of Red Stars,

Comrade Lenin and other commisars

issue decrees.  Committees rule like czars.

The revenues increase in Moscow's bars.

A haunted rise and set bookend the day,

tinted in hot blood red and cold steel gray.

And, in absentia murdered priests still pray.

Dulled bureaucrats, reading from doctored pages

declaring that these woes are merely stages.

"Take heart, Comrades, and stand with us to say

"The Workers' Paradise is on its way!"

Starward