Activist Blog
The Father and the Son Are One
In quiet whispers, truths unfold,
A bond eternal, ancient, bold.
The Father speaks, the Son obeys,
Through endless time, their love conveys.
No shadow falls where light is shared,
No distance breaks what love prepared.
One heart, one will, one boundless grace,
Reflected in each other’s face.
Through joy and pain, the story spun—
The Father and the Son are one.
Putin the Gangster
In the shadows of the Kremlin, where the cold winds bite,
A man stands tall, casting fear in the night.
With a poker face, cold as Siberian snow,
He plays the game, where only the strong will grow.
No crown, no throne, but a power supreme,
Behind iron curtains, in the halls of a dream.
He moves like a shadow, with the heart of a king,
A gangster in a suit, pulling every string.
Whispers of deals in the underground glow,
The oligarchs bend low, and the soldiers row.
With a smirk, he decides what’s won and lost,
A chessboard of nations, at any cost.
A deal with the devil? Maybe just a plan,
A mind sharp as knives, but still a man.
He’s Putin the Gangster, in a world of sin,
A man of steel will, yet no soul within.
With a fist wrapped in velvet, and words laced with lies,
He smiles as his empire slowly dies.
For in his eyes, there’s a cold, silent reign,
A gangster’s paradise, built on pain.