When The Dictator Falls
Eyes focused on the monuments and statues
Propaganda posters with eager children
Smiling faces on worthless currency
Starving hands reaching out longingly
Empty promises can’t feed their children
Ultimate power corrupts in the end
Even those with good intentions crumble
Lost was the ancient lesson of Cincinnatus
History once again proving the lesson
Fear only goes so far in ruling over people
For years, fear was a single, towering thing
Often mixed with a healthy dose of paranoia
The West was easy to hate, easy to point at
And yet deep inside of every heart and every mind
The masses yearned for what the outside had
The sound of freedom isn’t always pitch-perfect
But better than a growling stomach
Or gunshots in the common square
Echoes of wordy speeches with no results
Or wine glasses clinking from palace windows
When the tipping point shows signs of tipping
The people cheer, burn images, weep like babies
Finally, the throne sits without a ruler
The Dictator has fallen, while outside, a nation waits
Uncertain what to do with its own heartbeat
One end in the foundation for a new beginning
The tearing down, the funeral pyres of the regime
Children dancing in the ash, mothers clutching photographs
The certainty that this time it will be different
But no one agrees on what freedom looks like
Generals scatter, distancing themselves and their words
Voices shouting over the other, claiming their commonality
Militias bloom, new slogans and new promises
And the borders, once sealed by tyranny
Become doors through which more chaos politely enters
Food stops moving, empty stomachs now ravenous
Water grows precious, power flickers like a dying thought
The law, once cruel, now completely absent
Every street a combat zone, every home a bunker
The same cycle, different faces, gun-barrel elections
One Dictator falls, the rest chase the empty chair
New slogans, new promises of better this, and better that
But foundations built on grief and hunger don’t last
Justice becomes revenge, security forces of brownshirts
And soon, the new uniforms begin to look uncomfortably familiar
The masses, those who once whispered, now shout over one another
Just like the General’s words, their truths fracture into factions
Get theirs before someone else steps ahead in line
History once again being rewritten in blood, bullets, and graffiti
The revolution eats its slogans and asks for more
The spark of hope still burns, but beneath the falling ash
Smoke lingers just long enough to hide the missing pieces
And in the end, when the wind finally changes direction
A new strongman steps forward, not as a tyrant, not yet
The people, exhausted and desperate, listen, and wait
Another chapter, surely, they won’t be fooled again, or will they
When a Dictator falls, it is never the end of the story
Only his story – his pages being torn from the history books
The world waits for what the next pages shall say
Boldly written by those who survive the tearing
Additional Reading
R.J. (Ralph) Schwartz is an American poet, author, website owner, and online publisher. His writing spans several poetry collections—ranging from spiritual and romantic to fear-driven explorations—and even extends into science fiction. Notable works include:
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Hope – Inspirational and Spiritual Poetry
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Things That Go Bump in the Night – Poetry of Fear and Fright
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The Lover’s Thread – Poetry for Couples
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Poetry of the Human Condition – The Ups and Downs of Modern Living
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The Secrets of the Moon (a sci-fi novel co-authored with his son Sebastian J. Schwartz)
Schwartz’s work is described as purposefully wordy, richly descriptive, and thematically grounded in nature, romance, antiquity, and forgotten histories. He writes regularly on platforms he manages, including The Creative Exiles, a collaborative venue for writers, and The Gypsy Thread, which delves into offbeat histories, pagan lore, and poetry.
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- The Awakening of Earth – A Poem of Springtime - March 18, 2026
