Let there Be a Glorious Red Terror



Let there be a glorious Red Terror
With storms of hail and pain’s travail

And black tirades of rodent’s tail

The midnight dreams that scorch and flail

The bloody, butchered, bold entrails


They stalk and haunt and flaunt their fate

And shower you with sheens of hate

The fire below bellows irate

Will burn and burn and never abate
And fevers will soar ever higher

To christed crests they will aspire

The piercing pitched castrato choir

A hell in heaven they’re sure to sire


Leaping up from dungeons deep

From Bourbons and Louis Phillipe

And cancer wards where rage will steep

The witch’s brew will make you weep


Marat and Sade and Terrored night

And molten lead on wounded blight

I laugh and praise the princes’ plight

The seed of Stalin burning bright


Copyright, David Gottfried, 1996


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