The Poetry of Dictators

No, no genius at all...
A certain megalomania,
Sometimes outright plagiarism;
Hitler's weeping face from hell
Beams up toward me
It seems, in an old black and white photograph.
Programs for a new society,
Rants on political order and justice---
They surmise the sun wounds them
As if they are beyond mortal.

The best, the most beautiful,
Wasn't by Hitler at all.
No, it is just bitter men
With ambitions of conquest
For the world;---
They're all mad, in every conceivable way.
Had they been true poets
Their Libido would be fully satisfied
By the verse they wrote.
They need not conquer the world
But would rather subdue
Their own demons instead.