• To bury or not to bury, that is not the question

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    O Hamlet, but where
    To bury the waxen corpse
    Of a long-deceased dictator
    From the land of corruption,
    Hunger and stillborn dreams.
    Bury him with pomp,
    Glory and full military
    Honors with a twenty-one
    Gun salute at the
    National Cemetery for Hypothetical Heroes and Thoroughbred Traitors.
    Bury him alongside
    The dainty, diamond-studded
    Bones of a billionaire Tyrant’s mother.

    Bury him
    In the largest, deepest
    Crater on the dark side
    Of the brooding moon.
    Or maroon His Excellency’s Presidential stiff in the far-flung
    Constellation Caput Draconis
    On an isle in the middle
    Of a shark-infested sea
    Where a seven-headed
    Chattering monkey squats atop
    A leaning lone coconut tree
    To keep it fine company.
    Bury him in the damp mausoleum
    Of oblivion, except there:
    I In your heart’s Holy of Holies.
    Let the quick and the living
    Bury the dead, and the dead
    Bury the living and kicking.
    Of course, for the millions
    He oppressed, and thousands
    He tortured and murdered,
    That’s another hemorrhaging
    Story, O melancholic prince.
    There’s no reason for them
    To beat a dead horse but
    More than a bazillion reasons
    To beat and not bury this
    Ruthless mummified kleptocrat.
    As far as I am concerned,
    The only reason I’ll ever
    Object to his burial is my
    Wishful thinking that he
    Should have been buried
    Alive instead of very dead;
    Or if, heaven forbid, that
    Burying him dead would
    Bring him back to life so he
    Can tyrannize the living again.
    Long live our nightmares
    And traumas of Martial Law!
    Short live a dead dictator’s
    Rotting delusion of grandeur!

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