In Russia
The FSB is really the KGB.
Political opponents, independent press,
Protestors disappear, radiation poison
Assassinations are common.
Oranges are scarce.

Even post-USSR,
Sanctions become rationing,
Despite money for territory takeovers.
Crimea, Ukraine, is Estonia next?
Or Poland?

Vladimir Putin
Sits on a throne of self-importance.
Now sees the president of the world
Across the sea
And determines to split it,
Divide West Kingdom and East Fiefdom.
We are slaves to master oligarchs and
Of plutocrat yes-men.

Ripping resources out from under the serfs,
The wealth siphoned to the top of the pyramid,
As we the 99% watch powerless
As Trump follows a strong man
In whom he sees himself, only more subtly
And less subtly.
But soon, he will invade and capture too.

One keeping out and the other conquesting beyond,
Mere lines on a map.
For it is all theirs,
Though the people die starving
Or without healthcare.
But who cares?
They and their friends are lords.

They torture and say it works
Because they like to torture
To keep their power
Hidden in plain view.

What have we become?
What are we becoming?

We will rise up.
We will die or face imprisonment.
And we will not go quietly.
Then one day our deaths will be too many,
Our numbers too great.
They will cry for followers,
But hear only silence,
No one left to abuse.