Impetus - 2024

A dream dies amidst thunderous applause,
To smiles of a few who self-congratulate.
I wish not to fight for this lost cause.

Now we become that which we despise,
Feeble hands grasping at mangled hope,
To stave off a deserved demise.

A new beast crawled from monstrous womb,
It needs lebensraum, demands sacrifice:
Withered flowers die for the new bloom.

This creature of unpleasant aspect
Carries the oligarch-odour of our cowed land,
Yet its hunger and tenacity demand respect.

Birds of a feather their throat may sever.
Time to leave the high road’s cul-de-sac,
Lest our lord keep his throne forever.
​
So, Godspeed to you sin-born titan,
Let your rampage gather our lost momentum,
And your grip on Godfather’s neck tighten.