#232: Perpetual Neronia

At Olympia, he was thrown from his 10-horse chariot but was still crowned the winner by fawning, fearful judges. Nero insisted that the statues of previous winners be ripped off their pedestals, and he returned to Rome with 1,808 prizes.

'Why tyrants love to write poetry', Benjamin Ramm

you have called for perpetual competitions
perpetual games
and hot long-lasting
delightful flames

but what will be the crescendo
of such an endlessly extensible display?
and how will we know it when it comes?
and when will you learn to kill yourself properly?

syntax lies disemboweled
diction morbidly rots
and falls off
as fire whips the vestal curtains
   the second and third place winners
   are longing for home

even our hatred grows tired
and wants to go to bed

when will you have done?
when will you order your tomb?
when will you write your
ultimate fascist poem?