Imperial Anathema

The “Nation” as Anathema,
or Empire’s Primal Curse –
Proclaimed by Pope and Emperor –
Forbids all prose and verse
That doesn’t preach The Party Line
From cradle to the hearse:

Like crimestop, blackwhite, doublethink:
True “thought” a vapid fizz;
And Newspeak, ever up-to-date,
The past now just what “is.”
Authority infallible,
The “News” a fake showbiz.

When George the Second (“Dubya” Bush)
Inherited the throne
His “brain” Karl Rove (“Turd Blossom”) crowed
– Like throwing dogs a bone –
That “We’re an empire now and when
We act we make our own ...

Reality.” So much for that
“Republic” grown too small
For Empire’s actors who believed
That Dubya, “standing tall,”
Would awe with strutting “confidence,”
And phony southern drawl.

They had the soldiers, cops, and guards
Who’d do what they decreed.
And so they felt themselves secure
Without the slightest need
For popular approval of
A single dirty deed.

And so the deeds got dirtier.
In time pure filth prevailed
Among the “lower” classes by
The Seizure Class assailed.
The One Percent got their desire:
A nation-state that failed.

“All politics is local” (now,
As once upon a time)
Sells “democratic” fantasy
As puppet pantomime,
Which Oligarchs interpret as
Their right to legal crime.