Chávez

Like those rare kings who, in the Book of Kings,
"Did what was right in the eyes of the Lord,"
Hugo Chávez, having won fair and square
In six elections, proves true to his word --

The poor are clothed, and the hungry are fed.
The widow and the orphan are cared for,
The constitution saves the native language,
The land's restored to Venezuela's poor.

Meanwhile, sulking in Washington, poor George
Excoriates this savior of the south,
Damns the exemplar of democracy
Who dares to speak with unrepentant mouth.

A quarter-century or so has passed
Since Chile's terror under Pinochet
And Argentina's Dirty War, since when
The nations turn to Bolivar and Che.

Dictatorship has fled, but now the North
Of "whiter jubilee," with glowering frown
Berates the brave republics breaking free,
To signify the world's turned upside-down.

Harken! The savage beast of empire roars,
Addiction's pangs in anguish bay for blood,
But can not bite the hand that feeds it oil,
While dollars bleed in self-inflicted flood.

He can but bark, bleat, blather in his rage,
Embargo, slander, sabotage, and spy.
Playing the hypocrite, he looks for specks
But cannot see the plank in his own eye.

Although empowered to utter blasphemies
Awhile, to crush, devour, trample the earth,
He will be slain and thrown into the fire
And at the end of times prove nothing worth.

Let Venezuela's generosity
To poor Americans upstage afresh
The White House occupant, and Hugo Chávez
Remain a thorn in Bush's flesh.

September 2006