The State

The cauldron brew of reptilian stew boiled with witches cackles
Wafting the steam in strange delight
The smoking creeping through the dark of night
A wizard preached freedom with wand shackles.
The spell was woven
Evil’s children chosen
The bastards lame of mind.
The earth moved ‘round
As they danced to pagan sound
The horde forming into mound
Though blind.
The magic stage held the wizard’s final rant:
Behold the last ingredients and chant:
“Rotten root and eye of newt!”