Villain Hells

[Each of these poems is a villanelle.]

Villain Hell for Stalin

What shall we do with Stalin?
He wasn’t very nice.
The Man of Steel has fallen.

His coldness was appallin’ —
He’d keep quite well in ice…
What SHALL we do with Stalin?

Can’t find a hole to crawl in?
No tiniest interstice?
The Man of Steel has fallen.

His wily smile twists foul in
Our latest weird device —
We made it just for Stalin,

Hard work, our demons all in!
Yet still they slice and dice
This man of steel who’s fallen,

Poor shrunk black thing, a yowlin’,
Quite lost among his lice —
What shall we do with Stalin,
The Man of Steel who’s fallen?

+++++

Villain Hell for Hitler

What shall we do with Hitler —
Who dwarfed his era’s stage —
Now that he’s so much littler?

A question for the Riddler:
He’s so consumed with rage,
What’s left to burn of Hitler?

That gadget’s called a “whittler” —
How fine we’ve set it’s gauge
Now that he’s so much littler.

We’ll feed him — “Where’s that vittler!
Hey! Shit for the coprophage!
Let’s bulk up little Hitler!

Eat more! Don’t be a piddler!”
Can’t keep him in his cage
Now that he’s so much littler.

Shall we make him hear Bette Middler
Until the next ice age?…
What shall we do with Hitler
Now that he’s so much littler?
+++++

Villain Hell for Mao

What shall we make of Mao?
Let’s turn Tse Tung to dung,
Torn by each peasant’s plow,

Within an endless now —
No Great Leap Forward! Hung
In time (all done) is Mao,

Succumbing to the Tao,
To a Thousand Flowers flung,
Torn by each peasant’s plow,

Soon rice in hot Kung Pao,
He’ll burn on every tongue:
That’s what we’ll make of Mao!

Gut fodder! Then, Ciao, chow![He’ll get no help from Chou.] Please wipe him from your bung.
Here’s more dung for the plow!

Where’s that serene fat brow?
That little wet red tongue?
There’s not much left of Mao[His disciples heed the DOW],
Torn by each peasant’s plow.

+++++

Villain Hell for Saddam [Demon’s viewpoint]

What shall we do with Saddam?
Pile palace upon palace
With Saddam on the bottom?

He wanted ’em — he’s got ’em!…
Too light — his heart’s a callus;
We must pile MORE on Saddam.

He’s tough as Hillary Rodham!
(SHE’D bust his balls — AND phallus —
With Saddam on the bottom.)

This is hard work! Oh SOD him!
He’s diamond hard, pure malice.
What can we do with Saddam

To make him bellow, “Goddamn!”,
Beg “Take from me this chalice!”?
(To our ears, sweet as Callas.)
Let’s paddle his bare bottom

To hurt his pride…then prod him
To watch in dumb paralys-
-is endless runs of “Dallas” —
If THAT’S too nice for Saddam,
We’ll dig a deeper bottom.