sábado, 2 de março de 2013

Lotsov(part one)

Lotsov
The Charismatic Russian lotsov
Who took our town by storm
His speeches bringing small crowds
lapping like tides at the open auditorium doors

Holding the crowds and ushering them
Many indicators were throwninto the mass
Like moustache shavings in a moist sink
Until we couldn´t tell ourselves from our own thoughts and his

Thursday night he was on the stage
Legs kicking, few voiceboxes could make screaming pleasant
His did
Halfway into a rant edged glorious speech
"POP" Some man from the audience opened fire on him

Verily the first assasination attempt
The tone of the audience pink now and dim
The assasin was taken into the bathrooms and held
While the charasmatic Russian lotsov
coughed up the bullet.

I couldn´t breathe as we entered the bathroom
The first shot tore into the assasins jaw
putting him onto the ground
The next shot bore into his leg bloodying the floor
An artery was burst and clouded insided and out

The assasin still alive, was dragged out into a cage
With a local dog that had attacked and maimed countless children
They were both kicked to death by the fanatic volunteers
As if guilty of the same crime.
Lotsov´s lower eyelid grasped a tear as a poorboy his last dollar
Even as the snow descended, not letting it fall
My eyes wouldn´t leave the bloodstained bodies
whose reds were bright to dark and vice versa
Like many of lotsov´s speeches.

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