Flags as large as ships’ sails
Waive to and fro in solidarity,
Billowing with pride.
The masses—
Whose fully erect arms
Are only an open palm away
From a formal Nazi salute—
Fill the flowing tapestry of banners
With air warmed by their impassioned voices
As they chant and sing
The acrid cries of war.Drums of battle boom
At the flanks of the ring leader,
turned pseudo-circus commander.
He stands at the front lines,
Back to the enemy—unafraid,
Facing his assembled Legion.
Eyes beaming with intensity,
He undulates up and down,
Bobbing on the balls of his feet.
Bent slightly forward,
His heavy arms dumbly hanging,
As he sticks his chest out
And screams with such fearsome force
That his lips flair out
In a toothless, black circle
Like the howler monkey he is.
And fellow monkeys of the primate masses
Join in his primal howler roar
Like the Furies of Pompeii
Raining red, destructive, fiery Will
Upon the lush green pitch,
Urging their elite Spartan monkeys
To conquer the opposing macaques.
And in the midst of it all,
I realize I am yelling too!
Fervently: enthralled by a kicked ball
And this goading gorilla general.
Imagine the horrors wrought by this passion
If it were backed by an ethos.
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