A Poem About Napoleon

This is a poem where the poet wishes to be Napoleon, and if he cannot be Napoleon then he would like to meet him, shake his hand and perhaps ask him what it’s all for. If Napoleon can’t answer, maybe he could point them in the direction of someone who has the answers. Like God or Jesus Christ, maybe they know why we have to live and die again and again and again.

This is a poem about death. It isn’t a very good one, but it is trying its best. It wants to claw its way out of the dirt that buries it, and when it does, it will march on Paris with an army of ghosts and dead people behind it. They will hang the rich and the powerful from lampposts and no one will be safe as their heads fall into baskets.

And then the world will be free!

The poet doesn’t believe this. He knows that this won’t happen because there are too many people who don’t want it to happen. There are too many people who think that they deserve to rule over everyone else, and those people aren’t going to give up their power without a fight.

But that doesn’t mean that you should just roll over and let them trample all over you either! No, you need to stand up for yourself and refuse to be oppressed by those bastards! You need to fight back against the system that keeps you down!

You get the idea…

This is not a good poem, but at least it has some damn fine intentions behind it. And maybe someday those intentions might become reality - even if only in the minds of those who read such things.