The play-at-dictator

The play-at-dictator wears a slick smooth smile,
With harmless-seeming razor teeth that gleam.
Democracy turns, blind, quivers for a while,
Afraid to face the fact he’s not a dream.
Adrift in deadly waters of pragmatic Hell
Soul-sellers smile, too, in glass-eyed fear;
Pretend, pretend, pretend that all is well,
And Obama barracuda won’t appear.
Koranic dictator comes on keenly to feed;
America’s belly in its innocence shines.
His lips a mad foam, he darts in with his need:
To see a once republic gush out rich red lines.
The play-at-dictator wears a slick smooth smile,
With harmless-seeming razor teeth that gleam.

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