they place their dead into the furnace

with every machination and soul-like ore

and fashion their fascination with fascist factions, fixing a crown (one may say of thorns, another of ostracized fetuses) to the hairpiece waving before the bloodied flag — the people cheer, the people cry, the people vote for the best memes, like comment and share, today was yesterday tomorrow, the burden of was was undone, the undue death runs around the globe, pockets are lined, corpses piled into the watching sky, the people hail their new king, ready for the old way, he puts his feet upon their programmed heads, wipes their drivel with propaganda towelettes, lays himself bare on their protests, pours a shot of oil, down the hatch it goes, down the hatch we go — oblivious to the fuckery of it all— thinking like a stockholmed housewife, we can fix it, it doesn’t mean to be this way, Liberty winks with her gouged eyes, and swallows the words that she outta say, and baby oil stocks are doing fine, kid,

why do you ask?