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The Marble Tomb to Crown Life

It was caused by nothing,
aimed at nothing
but popular outrage.
Frustration, discontent, unrest…-
all these offsprings
of the disabled single party rule
are now issuing their pervasive yells
all around the new 
and the same old country
caught up in complex implications
of its discarded but 
thoroughly tenacious past.
 
The unknown present day
breaks in upon the petrifications
of what has been sanctified 
by the multitudes of the ever-marching
purple, red, bloodstained, bleeding
banners now carried high
by the staunch advocates
of the good old totalitarian days.
 
Their lofty calls
seem to fail to chime
with the somewhat less lofty 
cries of those butchered 
in Stalin’s prison cells,
now wafted to the marchers’ ears
from the cells 
of their own lingering memories…
The marching former convicts
crave for Stalin whose much lamented death
let them out of the prison cells
but buried them 
in those of their wounded souls…
Are these parading relics just the guns
Stalin triggers off
from under his marble tomb?
The marchers never question.
They are called up from the past
and are here to obey.

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