Act I - Flow (Grok)

A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA
In the style of William Shakespeare, with heightened drama, thunderous soliloquies, and clashing passions

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
AUGUSTUS VICTORIA, Grand Kaiser, a tyrannical storm of ambition and madness
ANCIENT KING OF BABYLON, a tormented exile, voice of doom and revelation
CONVIVILIATYICUM, a serpent-tongued advisor, weaving webs of deceit
GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN, a wavering general, torn ’twixt loyalty and scorn
BROTHER INVICTA, a ghostly conspirator, whispering rebellion
COMMANDERS, GENERALS, and a MOB, howling chorus of the oppressed
SCENE: A tempest-ravaged palace atop crumbling pyramids, shadows of Mu and Atlantis lurking

ACT I, SCENE I
The hall quakes with thunder; lightning cracks through shattered windows. Enter AUGUSTUS VICTORIA, crown askew, eyes ablaze with fury divine, flanked by trembling COMMANDERS and a seething MOB.

AUGUSTUS
[Roaring to the heavens] O Ancients of Mu, ye spectral lords of sunken realms! What eldritch incantations these that soothe the soul’s torment, bequeath the cindering blaze of fate, and crown fortuitous thanes to bless yon snarling curmudgeon? Forth he dallies with a defiant “ahoy!”—away, away with your droning tomes and brittle bones of idle chatter! The earth is mother, and in the blaze of flagrante coitus with the thunder-god father, from the womb erupts I—Grand Kaiser, devourer of worlds! What dare ye utter, ye winged apparitions of supplementary appal? Heed the mob, ye fools—for ’tis the mob, that ravenous beast, which swells our golden coffers to bursting, yet hammers nails into our coffin with gleeful malice, and carves our tomb with scornful epitaphs! The nation bleeds as Kaiser, magneto to my iron will—draw all unto me!

[Soliloquy, pacing wildly] One bastard supreme o’er a legion of bastards! Aye, we’ll ensnare the dimwit, crown him Solomon in his folly! Brother Invicta, incline thy noble head but a whisper—they’ll ne’er foresee the trap! Let the first blow crave my visage, then crash upon my unyielding skull! If giants swift and mighty assail me, I’ll charge their fist with my crown’s adamantine peak—shatter their hand, and laugh as bones crumble like empires past!

Enter the ANCIENT KING OF BABYLON, staggering from shadows, vines clinging to his form, eyes hollow with five centuries’ exile. Thunder booms.

ANCIENT KING
[With a voice like cracking earth] From the jungle’s choking maw, five hundred years of exile’s curse, I burst forth—Babylon shall crumble, ye hear? Naught I forget, yet all of something haunts my soul! Glass as vaporous gas, a treacherous façade, mirroring lightning’s furious synergies in placid deceit—the unconscious flare ignites the throng! These walls, barbed as picket thorns, I clawed from primeval hells to behold my age etched in pyramids’ mocking stone! Must I bow to society’s uniform decree, its nudging chains? The years devour me; my mind, enslaved to ephemeral ghosts, feeds the reptile within my breast! No epiphany graces my youth—no redemption’s lightning bolt—but a storm long brewing in my wandering blood!

[Clutching his head in agony] ‘Twas the day I cast aside the smoking Green—O torment! Impatient fury, irritable as a caged beast, till revelation pierced like dawn’s blade! This nation, gorged on PlayStations’ illusions, chases beatification by the iron rails of train stations, blind to emancipation’s forgotten fire! They stare upon the Ocean’s vast maw, where rain and mist shroud ethereal veils beneath the escarpment’s frown, and otherworldly spirits dance in unholy rite! ‘Tis desiccation of the soul, scorning carnality’s sacred law—lust, O lust, thou beauteous tempest! What bitter crusts and icy draughts when we are but frost-kissed wraiths? An August omen, auspicious and just, demands release! Fling off regimentation’s yoke—dehumanization’s venom—globalization’s iron grip—Americanization’s creeping plague! The feckless drones, self-righteous prigs, and dalliances of gilded swine—we’ll not hoist them on our breaking backs! Nay, blaze a trail of enlightenment, self-forged ascent—not charity’s weak crutch, but socialism’s anvil! Thrift and strife hammer strength into the feeble—truth’s a sly trickster! Who dares trust the tinker, that scheming gnome, yawning his foul maw like a slobbering pug in gestation’s slime? What dark thoughts brew in thy imperial cauldron, O Kaiser?

AUGUSTUS
[Drawing close, voice thundering] Behold this watch—its gears unwind like fate’s cruel jest! A helicopter cleaves Siberia’s frozen skies, five hundred years unborn, blasting hairy mammoths with shotgun’s wrath—billions of beasts, horses wild, lions roaring, tigers striped, and sundry shyte of beauty dire! Camp we in treetops thick as thieves’ conspiracy, horizon-bound; hark to wolves’ mournful dirge and birds’ paean to the bloody dawn! Forget the fetid fertilizer ground to birth this paradise—above, mighty dragons rend the clouds! No dinosaurs of eons lost, but ravages, my steeds of apocalyptic fury! To Atlantis we soar, to kneel ‘fore the Morning Star—tilt Earth’s axis on her Southern Pole, banish night eternal! What arcane fire could decree such doom? Too late, too late! Yet this digression, legendary and cursed, torments the disconsolate on our wretched orb. The filthy mob hungers for my dragon-hoarded gold—reptilian pulse in my heart denies them! I cannot feed the void; the heavens stand unmoved. Ye fools, corralling us like beasts into city’s foul pens, commanding gold from shattered walks in disinfection’s mad decree—like vermin lice, lousy and scheming, serving none but thine own base greed!

Enter CONVIVILIATYICUM, gliding like a shadow, maps clutched as weapons. Lightning illuminates his sly grin.

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[With oily grandeur] Hail, Grand Kaiser, tempest incarnate! Plans infernal, devices divine, I proffer for thee, Augustus, harbinger of Newfoundland’s golden epoch! Great works shall rise like thunderheads; our armies, iron-veined, span oceans vast—steel limbs where wooden walls once stood—to crush the globe in our vise of destiny! This moment vital, intuition’s dying gasp—have they bled dry of dreams? Doth shattering all mend the fractured world? No phantom laws shall drag the firmament to ruin! Banish folly—behold my maps of conquest! This barren desolation: souls scarce, none worthy, none thy righteous kin. Hail Jupiter’s bolt! Hail Victoria’s eternal flame!

AUGUSTUS
[Summoning with a roar] Commanders! Generals! To me, ye craven hounds!

They assemble in terror. AUGUSTUS unsheathes a dagger, slays three in a whirlwind of blood, spittle flying.

AUGUSTUS
[Enraged soliloquy] What would Stalin’s ghost command, that iron wraith? Gaze on these maps of blood and gold! What whispers from the Old Father’s tomb? This wasteland, void of loyal hearts, clutches power—our final claw-hold! Riches rot without the masses’ beggary. Seal all in compartments—beyond lies only peril’s fang! When the mob erupts like Vesuvius, cower in basements deep; they’ll ravage, pillage like famished wolves or soulless sharks, puppets to some spectral chip of posture’s curse! Unleash the jails’ demons at the brink—is’t our lash that breeds this chaos, or sin’s black root in their zombie cravings? Lust denied, yet gorged—shall they ponder, years hence, the atrocities we ordained in shadows? Pray no horde assembles, for what furies lurk ‘neath these glossed words? Instigators vile, remedies poisoned—a genetically twisted cat of death! What horrors next—assassins cloaked, ninjas at the threshold of my throne? Tremble not at treason, for I am god-enthroned—my roar drowns the people’s whimper and Senate’s asinine bleat! Mere barnyard filth they be—heap hay upon their troughs! They’ll gorge, excrete, and bellow like castrated bulls—cows o’er stallions, nay, chattering apes! Grand Kaiser, flood them with fodder, and obedience shall kneel! Behold the sands: wealth entombed for five hundred years of empire! Seize it, or yield to rivals—or worse, let them birth obscenities from our due! Strike now, while foes lie prostrate! Emulate Stalin’s crimson path: legions perished to forge Russia’s steel, to pulverize the Nazi hydra! The mob worships sacrifice—offer them to the altar of our greater glory!

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Quavering, yet defiant] Where, dread lord? O’er yonder shadowed realm?

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[With triumphant hiss] Precisely! E’en thy steadfast generals bow in accord—it must be wrought! From Montezuma’s bloodied halls to Beverly’s verdant spires, ‘long Mediterranean’s serpentine flow—where miners burrow like moles, Kentucky’s fowl-keepers cluck, sniggering knaves, wanderers vile, reprobates damned—lend me your fractured minds! What dire deed demands our hand?

AUGUSTUS
[Clashing sword on stone] No mirth in this, no jester’s caper! I am fate’s hammer—this ambush must blind them! Deem me no simpering politic puppet. Carthage shall burn to ash, her treasures plundered—sooth and swift! Generals, conjure now some exquisite abomination: a jet-ski cleaving waves of blood, or savor a Pink Lady’s apple, its perfume eclipsing the rose’s thorn—why doth it ignite thy alarms, ye cowards? Vulgar scum know their stains, elbow-deep in ordure’s mire. I’d dare all—aye, I’ve plunged the depths—and herd each wretch to their bespoke inferno’s ring! General, proclaim to the Marine Legion: bread unbound for the wretched this eve; wine to thaw their icy veins! For cripples twisted and beggars gaunt, grant one night of riotous bliss—not sour loaves, fetid waters, maggot-riddled scraps, bones gnawed, stones hurled, birch-lashed, nor fool’s gold! Let them quaff to oblivion or the grave, and hymn eternal thanks to their merciful Grand Kaiser!

Exit AUGUSTUS amid crashing thunder.

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Aside, with bitter venom] What plague worse afflicts: ignorance’s fog or apathy’s chill? Who comprehends? Who deigns to care? O Brother Invicta, we’ve unearthed a monstrosity—stupidity’s quintessence, egotism’s crowned abomination! Fivefold the fool of any mortal breed; I clamp my tongue lest gales of laughter rend me asunder at his cretinous convulsions, a demented wretch in epileptic frenzy! E’en the carnival’s grotesques spout wiser folly—these Kaisers are a race accursed, apart from gods and men!

Exeunt, as storm rages 

A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA

In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT I, SCENE II
A desolate courtyard outside the palace, under a moon veiled by storm clouds. The air is thick with the scent of rain and treachery. Torches flicker, casting shadows that dance like specters. Enter BROTHER INVICTA, cloaked, pacing with restless menace, joined by GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN, his face a mask of doubt. The MOB murmurs in the distance, their cries rising like a tide.

BROTHER INVICTA
[With a low, venomous hiss] O night, thou shroud of treasons bold, conceal
Our whispered plots from heaven’s prying stars!
What madness reigns within these crumbling walls,
Where Augustus, self-crowned in frantic pomp,
Doth strut like Jove, yet stumbles as a fool?
Fivefold the idiot, as thou hast sworn,
His epileptic rages mock the throne—
A spastic godling, spitting froth and fire,
Whose decrees are but the ravings of a beast!
Randstandafarian, thou stalwart blade,
What say’st thou to this Kaiser’s lunatic reign?
Doth loyalty chain thee still, or doth thy heart
Incline to freedom’s call, to cast him down?

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Clutching his sword, voice torn] O Brother Invicta, thou shadow’d voice
Of rebellion’s spark, my soul is rent!
I swore an oath to serve this Kaiser’s will,
Yet every bellowed edict scalds my ears
Like molten lead. His mind, a shattered helm,
Doth clash with dreams of dragons, hoarded gold,
And conquests carved from barren sands afar.
He speaks of Stalin’s shade, of Montezuma’s halls,
Yet knows not where his armies’ boots should tread!
The mob, that howling hydra, hungers sore—
Their bread tonight, their wine, a fleeting bribe,
Yet come the dawn, their knives shall seek his throat.
I am no traitor—yet this crown’s a jest,
A gilded shackle on a breaking realm.

BROTHER INVICTA
[Stepping closer, eyes gleaming] Jest, say’st thou? Nay, a tragedy divine!
This Augustus, puffed with vainglory’s wind,
Proclaims himself magneto to the world,
Yet draws but rust—base, clamorous curs who’d rend
His robes for scraps. The mob is not his strength,
But his undoing! Mark me, Randstandafarian,
The sands he covets, rich with buried wealth,
Shall be his pyre. Five hundred years of gold
He’d seize, yet knows not how the world has turned—
Empires of old, like Babylon, do fall,
And Atlantis’ light lies drowned in ocean’s scorn.
We must be wolves, not sheep, in this dark hour—
Let his own folly be the noose we tie!

Enter CONVIVILIATYICUM, unseen, lurking in shadows, eavesdropping.

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[With anguished fervor] O, speak not so, lest treason taint my blood!
Yet truth’s sharp edge doth prick my loyal heart—
His maps are madness, scrawled in fever’s grip,
His generals slain for sport, his plans a whirl
Of jet-skis, apples sweet, and dragon-flight!
What king decrees such chaos, bids his men
To feast the beggar while the world’s aflame?
I saw him slay three captains with a blade,
His spittle flying like a tempest’s spray,
Invoking Stalin’s ghost to bless his cause.
What cause? A barren waste? A hoard of dreams?
The mob will rise, as thou hast said, and we—
Shall we stand guard, or join their righteous roar?

BROTHER INVICTA
[Seizing RANDSTANDAFARIAN’s arm, voice rising] Join, brave general, join! The hour is ripe!
The Kaiser’s crown is but a paper jest,
His throne a crumbling heap of lies and bones.
He’d tilt the Earth to bask in endless light,
Yet cannot see the shadows at his feet!
The mob, those wolves, those sharks with soulless eyes,
Need but a spark to burn this palace down.
Release the jails, he cries—let rogues run free!
But who shall wield the blade when chaos reigns?
Not he, whose skull would head-butt fate itself,
Nor Conviviliatyicum, that serpent sly,
Whose maps of conquest veil a traitor’s heart.
We’ll raise a new dawn, general—thou and I—
Where reason reigns, not this demented king!

CONVIVILIATYICUM steps forth from the shadows, his voice smooth as oil, yet edged with menace.

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[With a mocking bow] O noble Brother Invicta, and thou,
Stout Randstandafarian, what seditious airs
Do echo in this courtyard’s haunted gloom?
Speak ye of treason ‘neath the Kaiser’s roof?
His ears, though mad, are sharp, and I, his voice,
Do hear the venom dripping from thy tongues.
The Kaiser dreams of empires yet unborn,
Of wealth beneath the sands, of steel-clad arms
Embracing oceans vast—yet ye would scorn
His vision grand with whispers of revolt?
Beware, for walls have ears, and shadows speak—
One word to Augustus, and your heads shall roll!

BROTHER INVICTA
[Undaunted, stepping forward] Scorn thy threats, thou fawning parasite!
Thy maps are but the scribblings of a knave,
Thy loyalty a cloak for private gain.
The Kaiser’s dreams are fevered phantasms—
Dragons, Atlantis, apples sweeter than
The rose’s blush! He’d drown the world in wine
For one night’s cheer, then bid the mob to starve!
Thou know’st his folly, Conviviliatyicum—
Why prop this tottering throne with honeyed lies?
Join us, or stand aside, for when the tide
Of wrathful voices breaks, no map shall save thee!

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[With a cold laugh] Join thee? In madness equal to his own?
Nay, I’ll weave my webs where power lies,
And power shifts like sands beneath the storm.
The Kaiser’s rage is but a tool to wield—
His gold, his armies, all shall bend to me.
The mob ye court is but a mindless beast;
I’ll ride its back while ye are trampled low.
Yet I’ll not betray thee—yet. Speak soft,
And perchance our paths may cross in shadows hence.

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Drawing his sword halfway] Enough of this! My heart’s a battlefield,
Torn ‘twixt honor’s oath and reason’s cry.
The Kaiser’s edicts ring like clanging chains—
Bread for the beggar, blood for barren lands!
Yet treason’s path is steep, and death its toll.
O Brother Invicta, thy words are fire,
But can we trust the mob to crown a king
Or burn the world in their unbridled lust?
Conviviliatyicum, thy tongue’s a blade—
Speak plain: art thou our foe, or secret friend?

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[With a sly smile] Foe or friend? The wind decides my course.
I serve the Kaiser’s will—till better comes.
Keep thy plots close, and I’ll hold mine in silence.
But mark this truth: the mob’s a fickle flame—
Today they feast, tomorrow they’ll devour
The hand that feeds. Choose wisely, noble men,
For Augustus’ throne may yet outlast your schemes.

A distant roar from the MOB grows louder, mingled with clashing steel. Torches flicker as the storm intensifies.

BROTHER INVICTA
[Defiant, raising a fist] Let tempests rage and mobs unleash their might!
This Kaiser’s reign shall end in fire and night.
Randstandafarian, cast thy doubts to wind—
Join me, and we’ll forge a dawn anew!
Conviviliatyicum, slink back to shadows—
Thy time will come when justice claims its due!

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Agonized, sheathing his sword] O heavens, guide my faltering steps aright!
I’ll weigh thy words, Invicta, ‘gainst my soul,
But till the dawn, I serve—yet watch, and wait.

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[Turning to depart] Then watch, and wait, and pray the storm abates.
For Augustus’ wrath is but the spark—
The mob’s the blaze that burns the world to ash.

Exit CONVIVILIATYICUM. The MOB’s cries swell, a thunderous chant of “Bread! Wine! Kaiser!” BROTHER INVICTA and RANDSTANDAFARIAN exchange a tense glance as lightning splits the sky.

BROTHER INVICTA
[Softly, to RANDSTANDAFARIAN] The hour is near. Choose thou the side of fate.

Exeunt, as the storm roars A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA

In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT I, SCENE III
The squalid streets of the empire’s underbelly, where flickering torches illuminate ragged CITIZENS huddled in clusters. The air reeks of stale bread and spilled wine from the Kaiser’s “gift.” A distant storm rumbles, mirroring the growing unrest. Enter a MOB of common folk: a BEGGAR, a LABORER, a DISGRUNTLED MATRON, and others, their voices rising in a cacophony of murmurs. They clutch loaves and flagons, but their eyes burn with deeper hunger.

BEGGAR
[Hoarsely, waving a crust like a scepter] O cursed night, thou veil of our despair!
What mockery is this from yon Grand Kaiser?
A crumb of bread, a draught of sour wine—
To warm our bones one fleeting eve, then cast
Us back to shadows, maggots gnawing scraps!
We, the mob, the lice upon his throne,
Who swell his coffers with our sweat and blood,
Yet craft his coffin in our secret hearts.
Why do we stir, ye wretched kin? What fire
Ignites our souls ’gainst this reptilian lord?
‘Tis not mere belly’s growl—nay, deeper wound:
The gold he hoards like dragons in their lairs,
While we conjure coin from broken walks!
Dehumanized, globalized, Americanized—
Our carnal lusts denied, our spirits frost!

LABORER
[Slamming his fist into palm, voice booming] Aye, brother! We’ve forgotten emancipation’s cry,
Lost in PlayStations’ glow and trainyard haze.
We gaze upon the Ocean’s mocking vast,
Where mist and rain shroud spirits of the free.
The feckless rich, self-righteous in their towers,
Dalliance on our backs—no more, I say!
Thrift and toil should forge us strong, not bend
Us ‘neath their weight. Socialism’s path,
Not charity’s weak alms! We rise for justice,
For lust’s beauty scorned, for desiccation’s end.
The mob’s not mindless—nay, we’re wolves awake,
Herded into cities like pack beasts tame,
But now we scent the blood of tyrants foul!
What transgression vexes us? His hoard, his lies—
Decimation in the ranks, austerity’s lash!

DISGRUNTLED MATRON
[With fiery zeal, eyes wild] Hark, ye fools! The Ancients of Mu whisper still—
From jungle exile comes the Babylon king,
Proclaiming empires’ fall. We are the flare,
The unconscious acceptance in lightning’s strike!
Our reptile hearts crave the ephemeral no more—
We’ve quit the Green, seen through the irritable veil.
The nation seeks beatification vain,
Voting on yon while pyramids mock our age.
We claw from primeval walls, picket-barbed,
To claim what’s ours: the gold ‘neath barren sands,
Five hundred years of wealth denied to us!
Why bow to Stalin’s shade, to Augustus’ fits?
He swims in hordes while Africans starve for sport—
Queues for cabbage soup, thin and glorious poor!
We demand the crown—inevitable as sea ‘gainst cliffs.
Our motivation? Vengeance, raw and just—
For regimentation’s yoke, for zombie lust denied!

BEGGAR
[ Laughing bitterly, swaying from wine] Yet mark how fickle we, the faceless throng!
One speech from Brutus sways us to his cause,
Then Antony’s tears turn us to bloody rage. 1 Like winds we shift, latching to values feigned,
A divided horde where love for Caesar swells
To mob’s blind fury, spilling innocent blood. 7 Are we but sharks, programmed by posture’s chip,
Or rational flames in protest’s coordinated blaze? 15 Nay, history’s mobs—from Salem’s witching zeal
To France’s revolutionary storm—burn with fear,
With zealotry’s heat, yet grievances true. 20 We crave sacrifice, yet not our own—
The Kaiser’s head, for greater cause we claim!

LABORER
[ Rallying the group, voice rising to a roar] Then let us be the crowd, not unruly mob—
Organized in wrath, leaderless yet one! 17 No more compartmentalized in basements hid,
While ninjas lurk and assassins plot his end.
We’ll release the jails ourselves, turn zombies loose—
Reflect on crimes in his name, satiate our lust!
The sky caves not, but empires do—tilt Earth
To endless light, or drown in dragon’s fire!
Our hearts reptilian? Aye, but hoarding naught—
We seek the Morning Star, Atlantis’ bloom,
Forgotten fertilizer ground to paradise!

DISGRUNTLED MATRON
[With ominous fervor] Beware the psychology of our swarm—
Mass manias, panics, tribal howls that drive
Markets and thrones alike to ruin’s edge. 0 We are the dirty horde, up to no good but ours,
Bent on destruction if bread turns to stone.
Yet in this bent, a beauty: lust auspicious,
Carnality’s law denied no more! Hail the mob—
For we fill coffers, fashion coffins, furnish tombs!

The MOB erupts in chants: “Down with the Kaiser! Gold for the mob!” Thunder cracks as shadows of SOLDIERS approach from afar, hinting at impending clash. A solitary figure—perhaps a spy from the palace—lurks in the gloom.

BEGGAR
[Aside, with dark irony] Ignorance or apathy? Who knows, who cares?
We are the storm—rational, yet wild as beasts.
Let Augustus quake; our motivations burn!

Exeunt the MOB, their voices fading into the night like a gathering A TRAGEDY OF THE GRAND KAISER AUGUSTUS VICTORIA

In the style of William Shakespeare, with thunderous drama and clashing passions

ACT I, SCENE IV
The grand palace gates, battered by the storm’s fury. Lightning illuminates the scene as the MOB surges forward, torches aloft, chanting “Down with the Kaiser! Gold for the mob!” Guards falter at their posts. Enter AUGUSTUS VICTORIA from within, flanked by trembling COMMANDERS and the sly CONVIVILIATYICUM. From the shadows emerge BROTHER INVICTA and GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN, drawn by the clamor. The ANCIENT KING OF BABYLON lurks in the background, a spectral observer. Swords are drawn, voices clash like thunder.

AUGUSTUS
[From atop the battlements, voice booming like a gale] What howling tempest dares assault my throne?
Ye filthy curs, ye lice-infested horde!
I am the Grand Kaiser, magneto divine,
Whose will doth bend the nation to my forge!
One night of bread and wine I grant in grace—
Yet ye repay with torches’ baleful gleam?
Begone, ye zombies of soulless desire,
Lusting for gold I hoard like dragons fierce!
The sky caves not upon your base revolt;
My riches swim in tombs of dust and frost,
While ye conjure naught from broken walks!
Who stirs this chaos? Speak, or feel my wrath—
Decimation in your ranks, as Stalin willed!

BEGGAR
[Leading the MOB, brandishing his torch] O tyrant bloated on our sweat and tears!
Thy bread is bitter, wine a poisoned jest—
We starve while Africans squabble for thy sport,
Queues stretching blocks for cabbage soup’s thin broth!
We are the mob, fillers of coffers vast,
Fashioners of coffins for thy pompous fall!
Thy reptilian heart denies our carnal law—
Lust beautiful, yet desiccation reigns!
Cast off regimentation’s iron chain,
Dehumanization’s blight, globalization’s curse!
We rise for emancipation forgot,
For PlayStations’ illusions shattered now!
Thy pyramids mock our age; we claw from jungles primeval
To claim the sands’ buried wealth—five hundred years of ours!

LABORER
[Shouting, axe in hand] Aye, Kaiser fool! Thy fits epileptic mock
The throne—demented spastic, cretin crowned!
We heed no more thy maps of barren waste,
Thy dreams of dragons sweeping o’er the dawn!
Tilt Earth thyself to endless light, or burn
In our auspicious fire! What transgression vexes?
Thy hoard, thy lies, thy austerity’s lash—
While we camp in treetops, wolves howling free,
Forgotten fertilizer blooming paradise lost!
The dirty mob craves justice, not thy alms—
Release the jails? Nay, we’ll storm them first!

DISGRUNTLED MATRON
[With piercing cry, rallying the throng] Ancients of Mu, bless our curmudgeon’s curse!
From Babylon’s exile, the king returns—
Proclaiming empires crumble, as shall thine!
Thy voice o’ertops naught but Senate’s braying fools—
Farm beasts we are no more; send hay to hell!
We are wolves, sharks with postural chip no longer chained—
Genetically modified cats of vengeance prowl!
Assassins next? Ninjas at thy door?
Fear treachery, for we are the greater cause!

The MOB surges closer, clashing with guards. AUGUSTUS draws his dagger, eyes wild.

AUGUSTUS
[Enraged, spitting fury] Traitors all! Conviviliatyicum, summon legions!
Randstandafarian, crush this rabble now—
Or join them in the grave! What would great Stalin do?
Slay three for sport, as I did generals past?
This Carthage must burn; its riches mine!
Ye demand more? As if billions hoard not enough—
Count day by day in freezing tombs of state!
O to swim in gold while ye look better thin!
Suffering off the stage—no vision beyond!

CONVIVILIATYICUM
[Aside to AUGUSTUS, then aloud] My lord, thy plans divine shall crush this storm—
Steel arms across oceans, Newfoundland’s age!
Yet heed: the mob loves sacrifice—to thy cause!
[To the MOB, slyly] Peace, good folk! The Kaiser hears thy pleas—
More hay, more wine! Groan like spayed bulls no more.

GENERAL RANDSTANDAFARIAN
[Stepping forward, conflicted, sword half-drawn] O Kaiser, thy rage blinds thee to the tide!
The mob’s not mindless—grievances burn true.
Thy edicts mad, thy slayings folly’s mark—
I serve, yet doubt devours my loyal breast!

BROTHER INVICTA
[Emerging boldly, voice thundering] Enough of shadows! Augustus, face thy doom!
Thy throne’s a jest, thy crown a dimwit’s guise—
Convince thyself thou’rt Solomon no more!
Bow head slightly? Nay, we’ll strike thy skull!
The mob and I unite—Brother Invicta’s bow
Aims true! Head-butt our fist, and break thy hand!

ANCIENT KING OF BABYLON
[From the shadows, prophetic and ominous] From jungle’s exile, five hundred years of woe,
I proclaim: Babylon crumbles, as doth this!
Nothing remembered, everything of something—
Glass as gas, façade of lightning’s flare!
The years obsess with ephemeral reptile—
Too young for epiphany, yet truth dawns harsh.
Cease the Green, realize the irritable veil—
Nation forgotten, gazing o’er Ocean’s mist.
’Tis desiccation—lust denied, frost we are!
De-pressure all: regimentation falls!

The confrontation escalates: MOB clashes with guards, swords ring, torches fly. AUGUSTUS roars commands, CONVIVILIATYICUM schemes retreat, RANDSTANDAFARIAN wavers, INVICTA charges forward. Lightning strikes as chaos reigns.

AUGUSTUS
[Final bellow] Treason’s tide shall break on my iron will!
Generals, to arms! This night, we crush the beasts!

Curtain falls amid the din of battle, storm raging