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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