I ask you righteous Justice-lovers:
can it be that art uncovers
fiction passed as fact?
(is Cubism abstract?)
Ask the ones who fled that island
why they left their tropic homeland;
if they think it’s cool
to glorify Red rule…
The noble face of Revolution,
CHE provides the cheap solution;
earnest young Ernesto
lived out the manifesto.
Martial hippie, beatnik butcher
bravely gazing toward the future
beams the brow of CHE
their shining knight of day.
Brand-new bloodshed – same old song
for guerrilleros of the bong
who rage against machines
confounding ends with means.
Such semi-informed fools display
a heady ignorance of CHE –
as if he played the bass.
(I hold them in disgrace.)
Though CHE was tough on Rock n’Rollers,
he abetted thought controllers;
jailing small and great
in Fidel’s prison-state.
Yet they’re convinced that CHE was righteous:
militant against injustice –
worshiping his name,
impervious to blame.
“Yo, CHE wuz for the PEOPLE, man.
(They’re not too sure about his plan…)
He died to make men free –
immortal – isn’t he?”
Vaguely Leftist youth display him,
not quite clear on how to play him –
Bearded god of Vision:
immune to all derision.
Ahem. A different Bearded One,
God’s other revolutionary son
borrowed from CHE – or stole
The liberator’s role…
Yet, let us not be blown off-course.
My words must gather rising force
to set the record straight
and hotter heads deflate.
The hairy Argentinian medic
left a lucrative esthetic:
facial meme of war –
his T-shirts rock the store!
Outworn by posing poetasters,
dreamers, thugs and hero-wasters
ignorant of history
and high on Marxist mystery.
He glowers with a lit cigar:
the noble hippie Commie/czar
for kids who went to Kollege
emerging void of knowledge.
Now hailed by rappers, clueless starlets
Hollywood saints (and leftist harlots);
everyone’s a fan
of Cuba’s Magic Man.
What was his plan to save the nation?
while kissing Party asses.
Classic Leftist liquidation:
bathe the land in blood. Salvation
comes much later on.
For now let’s get it on !
(Let’s get his T-shirt on that is.
The taste is flatter than the fizz
of Revolution Cola;
go ask the Ayatollah).
One serious thing I beg of you.
Do NOT discern the truth. Just view
his face with pure devotion
to set it all in motion.
CHE was a merciless father-mucker
(translate THAT to Spanish, sucker).
Put away your bong.
My poem’s too long
(thus ends the song).