LENIN IN THE PRESENCE OF GOD
a trans creation after Iqbal, by Rafiq Kathwari
Aha! Comrade Ulyanov—
Welcome! Or I should say,
You’re alive? But “God is dead,” they said.
I inhabit men’s heart, passion’s home,
and for a brief moment
the gods themselves swayed to your tune.
So, this is the source of the babble in churches.
Command and Control,
Shock and Awe,
I need a drink…
Heaven is not your local pub,
but we’ve a house white on tap,
Water of Life. Glass or Goblet?
Shot glass. Neat.
Think of it as Korsvodka.
Red blush on your cheeks—
it’s not rouge. Is it?
When will the boat of Capitalism sink?
When church spires soar above skyscrapers,
when the guardians of the guardians
blast hell to heaven.
When? O Architect of Destiny. When?
Too early to tell,
a hundred years from now perhaps
when Deceit is the New Enlightenment.
They drink your blood and preach equality.
When pompous patronising puffed-up
pitiful venomous vicoius toads
“…all go in the dustbin of history…”
When Beijing becomes the Brussels of the East
and ships hoist a gold star on red
as they float above a plastic sea.
Bless the bitter proletariat.
When the communist sell
to the capitalist the rope
with which he will hang himself.
Boja Moi! You’re echoing me.
Don’t mock me, Tovarish Ulyanov,
You’re merely a speck of dust.
by Rafiq Kathwari / @brownpundit / rafiqkathwari.com
for Karen Dowling
Dobro Pozhalovat — Welcome!
Boja Moi— Oh my God!
Tovarish — Comrade
Poka — Bye