The Jack-In-The-Box Dictator

The jack-in-the-box dictator dominates,
Green scowl squeezing envy into hate.
Sinners pray to his nibs in the store window.
Draped in gold chains, clutching His scepter,
He laughs in a ruthless show of temper.
Henchmen wait for new orders from below.
Beautiful cities outlive their architecture,
Columns collapse, statuary crumbles,
"Return my faith," a lame crone mumbles.
Speeches, even sermons, become lectures,
Endless repetitions, what everybody knows.
When the militia deploys, the catacombs
Fill with refugees and silenced deserters.
No murderers here, only torturers.