I remember the peasant I hypnotized
and submerged in the River Neva ice;
but I don’t remember the feeling
as I watched his silent scream
while I drank some vodka
laced with fresh blood,
a delicious red flood
After that, I once again mesmerized
That uto-uto Romanov to re-appoint me;
for I believe I am
the one they call Genghis Khan.
When I meet German spies I wear a mask,
like all men do; a silky shawl my cape,
’coz I’m Caligula too.
Like Machiavelli, I have nothing to hide:
If I manipulate the Powers-That-Be
or sanction extra-judicial genocide,
it’s because God told me to;
I was destined to be a political appointee
because it is my mission to save humanity.
But they, Felix Yusupov and my other critics,
or should I say, “Terrorists!” never visited,
so I’ll send out my assassins instead;
a peace gesture even Nero can do,
as long as he remains true
to himself, though perceived to be demented,
never to be corrupted,
by the insane who pretend to be
normal people like you and me.