America of the Neon Gods

by Nancy O'Brien Simpson

Photo: Wikimedia Commons by Ophelia2 is licensed under Public domain

Барельеф с богами

O America! O blistered republic of neon gods and nuclear dreams, where the golden-haired barbarian strides triumphant through the wreckage of ballots and broken treaties! Trump, the bloated prophet of empire, drunk on the ghost-whispers of dead oil fields, screaming MAGA psalms into the abyss!

See them slither, the factions in his court, the priesthood of power, the isolationist hermits clutching their tattered Bibles of Monroe and Pat Buchanan, muttering of walls and fortress-America, fearing the foreign tongue, the foreign skin, the foreign hand on the sacred ledger of trade! But opposite them, the warmongers, the iron-eyed cabal, hands slick with petroleum and blood, whispering MOSSAD incantations, calling for airstrikes, for drone-sent revelations, for the sword and the stealth jet, for the spreading of gospel by fire!

And yet—O great diseased dream!—these quarrels are but chamber music in the grand symphony of conquest, a side-show within the main attraction, the great and terrible REVELATION that this, THIS is the new world hymn: Expansion! Expansion! Expansion! A chorus of missiles baptizing the sky, the empire reborn, not in whispers but in roars, not in cloaked CIA maneuvers but in proud, slobbering declarations from the golden throne of Mar-a-Lago!

The empire was never lost, only shy, only veiled in soft words of diplomacy, but now it bares its teeth! O proud beast, O ravenous machine! Trump sings of its glory, calls for its rising, pledges the fists of millions to its dominion, not in secret halls but in the open, with flags, with fire, with the unrepentant hunger of a nation that has never learned to say enough.

And the people! The people! The sunburnt believers, the snarling faithful, raising fists, raising banners, exalting their prophet, their conqueror, their loud and unashamed emperor of the television age!

O America! O great and dying myth! The world watches as the beast flexes once more, its hunger renewed, its name shouted from podiums, its legacy sharpened like a bayonet in the hands of history!