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Grape-fed by ex-consuls’ wives,
a new rotten family
from the old buzzard republic
nurtures itself from the vine
Boasts of dominion
over fish and fowl
commissions a symphony of flame

Their gods are Brat Packers
Their gods demand sacrifice

An empire builds itself from marble
portraiture; places palms
on moist slabs of reverence;
parades flayed hides—
Plebian Leather.

Nero begs his subjects
for some perspective:
“From worst to first”—
Dances on Etruscan graves
points to the budget surplus
and aggressive urban renewal

The dramatics of the mob
not discussed
over tuna casserole,
Draconian supper
knowing all along
the situation would resolve itself


John Q. Publius

by John Q. Publius

John Q. Publius writes for Republic Standard and runs the blog The Anatomically Correct Banana.