Kommune 1

Destroy the nuclear family, let the atoms scatter over freshly broken ground.
An oppression that can be melted down, from the outside in.

Communards stand tall, feel the fallout whisk past your seeing eyes.
How far will it travel?
Perhaps as far as Potsdam with this easterly breeze.

Surrealist provocations, subversive actions and satirical protest will usher in the hedonists.

For now, hemmed in by the tall walls of the small c conservatives, is the time to smash the shackles.

They need to be provoked, the sleeping house cat must be poked,
perhaps chased out the door, so at least it can see what lays in the streets once more.

Every empire crumbles, which will outlive the other?
The bohemian or the bourgeois?

Which one will be swallowed by students and ravaged by white collars?
Diluted to the point of palatability, the meat torn from the bone.

Suddenly the view over the Spree has darkened for me.
The wind has changed and dust cloud is returning.

At least we’ll always have Kommune 1.
We’ll always have the thought.