The Future Written for Beria

Hi everyone. I know... how could i dare show my face again?... Just posting this poem i wrote, mainly for gene, since i know he's into his russian history. Thanks again all. The Future Written for Lavrenty Beria A primitive table which Soso revealed In attendance a toad at his heel Saying ‘this is your task, like ploughing the field Make this old dead wood become real’ Lavrenty from mountains deep in the south An expressionless, joyless breed Relished the task and grew wet in the mouth Saying ‘merely traditionalist creeds’ After some days with shirt sleeves wound tight The surface was soon sanded level Though deep awkward scores had put up a fight A challenge in which he did revel Nights came and went in his cold dungeon room The grey man’s brow gleamed in moon light As every last blemish was sent to its doom Now as good as if new at first sight Soso returned with a chair of old wood Saying ‘please do to this just the same’ And so this old servant he did what he could To show love to Great Vladimir’s name The sweat of his palms on hot steel and wheat And the tears of the sawdust displaced Spread a thrill from his skullcap down to his feet While his socialist heart quickly raced When done he reached out for a brush of horse hair To varnish and restore a shine When a paranoid man crept into the lair Saying ‘This task, right here, is mine’ Forced from the room with unfinished grind His passion was swiped from his soles In anger he left without true payment signed And a new set of odious goals Then strokes of misfortune, and predicted stall In the health of his old countryman Brought the pot bellied golem to speak before all With a terrible fear deep within The time for a knife in his back would arrive Once Long Live the King had been said His work on the wood was what kept him alive But now that wood wanted him dead Placed on a hook and shot through the brain After carving another man’s vision The varnish had sealed over blood, over pain Though good the restoring decision So as some think ‘unfairness’ for earning his wages Most think now that justice is done Removing the layers of unwilling ages Ensured he could never have won.