Panem et Circenses 

I 

This night is of circus and lie. 

And stained in hue of aniline dye.

Lions and tigers into the night; 

In lieu of plebiscite, limelight. 

This night is of humiliation, 

Carved of calcite chalk and ovation. 

This is ruination disguised as elation.

This is punctual folly 

Festivals of melancholy. 

This is circus and game; 

In red, inflamed with blame. 

They drank and ate;

In this tent elate and prate. 

II 

The fire breathers are

This circus’s leaders.

And they lacerate;

The truth incarcerate. 

Aiming to inflame with hate

The skies serene and enate. 

And so the land burns 

In this circus of urns. 

The sky has been stained 

And all the truth it once contained

Has been pillaged, and robbed; 

Smeared and mud daubed. 

The eternal truth in hues blue, 

Replaced with flame spews. 

The fire consumes, 

The fragrant spring blooms. 

The fire consumes, 

This autumn of fumes and dooms. 

III

Truth has never known this tent;

This is the convent of the president. 

Lie upon lie are the links of this chain,

The profane throne to this tyrant’s reign. 

And syllables command a heavy exhale, 

To hold our inhales in hope so pale. 

Word was born of ancient peace, 

 Of suspire and release. 

From an arcane darkness,

From forgotten stillness.

Germinated from celestial fountains eternal, 

In the dim light of a kosmos vernal. 

The syllable was nurtured in a nebular cradle; 

And infused with a beauty so fatal. 

And the starlight, so sacred and decorated-

The flourishing utterance illuminated.

And so was born the word.

And truth was all that was heard. 

The stars must weep,

And throw sobs to the darkness deep. 

Since they must stand witness and see 

The perversion of words once so pure. 

Once born celestial from the starlit sea, 

The sacred word of starlit contour

Is now in chains.

And now lies reign. 

Tragedy of tragedies,

To have lost such sanctity. 

The stars pierce the dark night

In funerary lamentation and rite. 

This threnody composed in sighs; 

Descending in tears from starry eyes.  

Yet the lies blare so loud. 

So as to have this melody drowned.

This is a requiem to a sanctity now dead. 

To the rape of word by lies said. 

And the stars must weep, 

To see the virtue of truth forgotten; 

Replaced by lies putrid and rotten. 

IV

Travesty and shame 

Have combined under one name. 

America of the circus state; 

America the great.

They hailed thee, land of opportunity,

Forged from immigrant unity. 

They called thee, dream of dreams;

Of strong bones and steel beams. 

Melodies of freedom in the sunrise.

Melodies of hope in the zenith skies.

You allure, you entice. 

Yet you surprise 

Sweet land of paradise.

For every song of sunrise 

Has a midnight reprise. 

Land of vice, what is the price,

For living in this circus so great? 

Oh say can you hear this reprise,

Blowing on this diseased breeze. 

These are verses of the shadow

Of immigrant breath and woe. 

America, you mutilate. 

For some came looking in your paths

for a sky with a better tomorrow,

And you received us with hate baths; 

And the sacred dawn of opportunity  

Became stained of sorrow. 

We immigrants are tokens and dies

To your eternal game of lies. 

Circus and deception into the night 

And our dreams fade to starlight. 

Come, eagle of freedom, of lies; 

Come to stigmatize, 

Come to kiss my cries. 

America of this circus state 

What is the price

For living in this circus so great?

V

It is to be cut, with a knife serrate.

To decapitate hopes not explored yet. 

It is the sting of merthiolate.

To forsake dreams that never soar set. 

This is a circus of sepulchres. 

It is the mockery of the calliope.

To be shackled by chains 

While outside the circus entertains.

It is to be chased by the cloud of hate,

For them to lacerate and masticate. 

It is to resuscitate fears. 

To swallow my tears. 

To quiver in your gaze of fire; 

In your haze of hate always.

And in this orange sky asphyxiate, 

It is a trace of a bitter aftertaste.

It is to daydream in silent haste. 

Then in the depths of night to understand 

The fate of hope in the moonlit hourhand. 

To drown in pools of water,

As this world is war and slaughter. 

And I await,

And I await,  

In this haze of hate; 

I must wait. 

VI 

The sands of this arena are bloody 

With hate and a pestilent body. 

Regard the garlands of hypocrisy, 

That adorn this democracy. 

Regard the pain of injustice.

In these fires deep and lustrous. 

In this circus red and pestilent

 Blood is word and testament.

VII

And the people must roar; 

But it is this folly they adore. 

And their mouths open wide 

To receive drink and germicide. 

It is simply circus and games. 

Propane to the festival flames. 

For democracy or theocracy. 

People of hypocrisy.

VIII

This night is of abomination; 

Of supplication and frustration. 

And the lies never cease

In this circus of disease.

And the love is killed by hate 

In this tent irate and sate. 

Desacrating of truth celestial 

And spitting lies so bestial. 

And hope is struck down again

By this reign of pain and bane.

Such is this night of fire,

Of this circus within this quagmire. 

And stillness is forgotten, 

And peace is not begotten.

Such is this night of smoke

So thick the soot, to choke

And still with lies they stoke.

This night is of agitation, 

Of sty and desecration;

Behold the circus nation.