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Triumph of Death Otto Dix, 1934In times when the demos locks itself up
In times when mediocrity is the only value remaining
In times when all truth is opinion
In times when ‘the best lack all conviction and the worst are full of passionate intensity’
Then is evoked Tyrannis Soter from the pit called Because
Mouths are filled with ashes and blood
Hands are filled with torches and clubs
Knees are bent in submission
Minds are bent with lies

No, my love, this is not the start of the fight
This is the sundering that will have us at each other’s throats
When the Marshal stands over us and raises his baton
We will look up in surprise
Then the fight will begin.

I would cry now but that sea was drained long ago