The anarchists face,
the dictators face,
is the same face.
It’s in the eyes.
Eyes that will not see
where my nose begins,
eyes blind to all but Will,
the Will to see as they will,
no matter what their Willing
will do to my nose or mind or soul.

I have seen the Anarchists face
storming down Pennsylvainia Avenue,
hidded by gas mask and black blaclava.

I have seen the Dictators face
in lines of green fatigued armed Pacos
suffocating Chilean pesants who
wanted only to breathe.

I have seen both faces.
They are the same face.
It is in the eyes.
The eyes are gone.
What is left is sockets, gleaming dead.
They have been sacrificed for
the power to fortify their power
to Will as they Will.