Thursday 28 September 2017

National Poetry Day 2017.

       Today is national poetry day, so in my humble way I attempt to celebrate and further the idea that, poetry is a magic portal through which you can see a different world. Enjoy.
 
Anarchy
 
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
rings false for a pillaging empire.
To die for war-mongers
and criminals in business suits
is sour.

The Pledge of Allegiance
is sinister and violent.
National identity empowers
the American war machine.
Proudly waving flags
conceal the unjust bloodshed.

War needs public support;
propaganda makes it possible;
repetition makes it stick.
Indoctrination into the fold
of nationalistic pride
from birth.

Do governments truly
unite their peoples...

...or divide the world
with flags and gods?

Mind control
on an unbelievable scale,
a shill production scheme.

And who votes either
"For" or "Against"

plays into
unknown
fists.

 
WE THE LABOURING MASSES.

We the people have, every brick laid,
have fed the world with sweat and spade,
every instrument played in every band
created by the skill of the craftsman's hand.
We made every truck and every load,
our toil our effort every winding road,
every ship that ever sailed the sea,
our power our imagination made it be.
Cities and towns large and small,
our labouring hands fashioned them all,
every home, every spire,
luxury mansion or humble byre.
No matter what dreams the mind might spawn
without labour's hand, never see the light of dawn,
without labour's strength and labour's skill,
we would be foraging beasts in a jungle still.

FROM GEORGE SQUARE TO TAHRIR SQUARE.

In a global square, in a global village the people are gathering,
They want to sort out their village once and for all.
They have had enough of wild beasts stealing their chickens,
Of war lords pillaging and plundering their crops.
Though they labour hard, they live poor
While the wild beasts and war lords grow fat.
This time they will take the time and do it right,
This time they will finally and forever banish,
Wild beasts and war lords from their village.
This time all our chickens will feed all the children of the village
This time our crops will see all our people through the winter,
This time, all the fruits of our labour will be ours.

Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk 


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