The President Is Dead Poem by Richard Wlodarski
The President Is Dead
I had a dream
In which you and me
Kissed the president
A final good-bye
We were holding hands
Walking on the beach
Sand in our toes
Kissing the still wind
He was experiencing
Such atrocious nightmares
Full moon beckoning
To werewolves within
We christened the moon
He woke soaked in blood
Cuba lay on the horizon
Satan's damned hell welcomed him home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/1/2024 6:25:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I have to wonder if your dream poem refers to Fidel Castro or perhaps JFK. I have vivid dreams like this one, nearly every night. A great surrealist poem, I find.