He is a dictator.
A butcher in the literal sense.
The nation his abattoir.
His subjects
his sacrificial lambs.
He can’t stand rebels.
Rebels, rebellion,
tolerance, remorse, pain
all absent in his dictionary.
He demands loyalty.
Loyalty pays rich dividends.
He is a fiddling Nero
and nation’s stomach
a burning furnace.
Poverty, hunger, famine, malnutrition,
all alien words to him.
But patience has its limits
with patience reaches its zenith
when the citizens are pushed to the wall
they’ve nothing to do but fight
with their back on the wall.
Fear clears the
path for courage, valour and unity.
Subjects regroup under one umbrella
subjects turn fighters
valiant fighters.
Regardless of consequences
with arms in their hands
they march to
the dictator’s fortress
surrounded by forces loyal to him
who keep alert with sophisticated weapons.
Violating all obstructions
citizens march ahead
braving bullets, grenades, bombs
and tear-gas shells.
Bloody clashes break out
between the dictator’s
militia and the determined
rebel fighters
thousands court martyrdom
but such tactics never
force them to move backwards
and escape the scene
and until victory does visit
the power of citizens
overtake the power of
loyal forces of the dictator
and storm the heavy fortress
where the dictator is wining and dining
enjoying the scintillating dances of
his pretty, sensuous dancers, with singers in the background.
The outcome of the rebellion
reaches its logical conclusion
A new dawn emerges on the horizon
greeting the nation spreading warm rays of a jubilant sun.….
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