Fourth Reich
He pressed the post. The Reich lurches awake.
The blood is poison. Vermin cross the land.
The hand that signs need not itself partake;
The cup of trust is passed from hand to hand.
The old alliance cracks beneath its seals.
No “Sieg Heils!” but whispers break the walls.
The constitution leaks through secret deals,
Where private wealth becomes the public pall.
The markets flicker fast on screens and wire.
Coded fortunes make the borders spin.
The coup de grâce is not a shot but fire
That warms the sand while time wears thin.
The beach is full. The old guard meet behind glass.
The public do not see it. It has passed.
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