The Golden Bough

Ahkenaten on a Golden Calf.
Nazi tigers pull the royal chariot
and everyone watches
this our vir triumphalis.
It is our will manifest
in bacchanalia and regicide.
And so we put the sun in its grave,
and his children on the moon,
so that we may live and die
under procession of the seasons,
forever subjugated to the divine right
of the kings who rule us
and who in turn we kill.