Ode to El Presidente



Congratulations, Mr. Castro
You’re a most efficient businessman
The happiness and prosperity of your people is all thanks to you
You’ve castrated your country
Mr. Castro

The sound of your name
Assaults my ears
Leaves in my mouth a taste more foul
Than the rotting cane in your once profitable-plantations.
Congratulations.

The summer of Cuba’s discontent grows brighter
Arrest any man with a typewriter!
The whores on the street
must make ends meet in the heat
By scavenging for cocks on Havana blocks
Without any socks or shoes
You win
They lose
Such is the state of your nation
Congratulations.

Please drag me to your cold stone prison
Show me why Cuba hasn’t uprisen
No rights, bug bites, no voice, no choice
And in this you rejoice?
I weep on this day
For a country run this way
Congratulations, El Presidente