A thought provoking poem by Malcolm Pugh
Like a cat I slumber, blissfully unencumbered,
Through eighty per cent of my allotted span,
Occasionally awoken, when dissent is spoken,
And I invent another cunning five year plan,
Lately it was pensions, that were being mentioned,
So I borrowed from the French and Robespierre,
Scrap all that went before, saved by tooth and claw,
And let my all equal Citizens appear,
Currently it is time, for me to be in my prime,
For there is another election looming,
I have to appear sincere, for part of this coming year,
And assure everyone that everything is booming,
Never mind strict quotas, Ive imported multitudes of voters,
And told them which party let them stay,
Though Ive rigged the postal vote, and defamed everyone of note,
You never know what might happen on the day.
So to be on the safe side, I swallow all my pride,
And allow my people to hear my hallowed voice,
And roll out the charade, put on the facade,
And even make believe they have a choice,
Next time around the crown, will be trampled underground,
House of Lords and Lord Chancellor history,
With the other Chancellor gone, I alone will soldier on,
Yes, then there will only ever be me,
Ill hold elections for you, as all dictators do,
And fill positions with those that grease my palm,
As for civil unrest, there is always house arrest,
Or secret imprisonment for those that mean me harm.
So from national nursery, via educational history,
You can in time join the New Labour Youth,
Be taught gay is fun, and the state is number one,
And any other opinion is untruth.
Ask the media if unsure, or philosophically impure,
Brainwashing British Citizens is their forte,
They will surely put you right, or visit you at night,
Either way they will stop you being naughty.
Meekly follow all the rules, laid down in our schools,
Where state is all and learning is suppressed,
And you can safely be ignored, not seen as being flawed,
Just be another number like the rest.
Better far to be, a part of mediocrity,
Within your state and the seeds they have sown,
Than to disappear, or to live in constant fear,
For having a mind and will all of your own.
How is it that we, lost the option to be free,
How did we give away our right to choice,
How did we believe, whilst being deceived,
When did we decide to lose our voice.
How did we select the politically correct,
Why are we victims of unpunished crime,
Were we such fools as not to see the tools,
Or did we think they would go away in time.
The tap is darkly dripping, droplets that are gripping,
Our throats today our minds in time to come,
We must turn the tide, and reaffirm our pride,
We must prove we are not deaf and dumb.
It is no good wailing, chained up to your railing,
That you want the vote back like before,
For no one hears your plea, they are deaf to you and me,
No on cares about us any more.
This is about manipulation, of us and of our nation,
This is about illusions triumph over actual reason,
This is about lies, and the power to mesermerise,
This is about a slowly creeping treason,
This is about the eviscery, of the neutral BBC,
This is about what poison will soon take its place,
This is about five year plans, and Citizens of Euroland,
This is about civil service, with a very red face,
This is about soaps and plays, which in very subtle ways,
Try to put into our minds new sets of plausible truths,
This is about newspaper demise, in the guise of purveying lies,
Whilst the state preaches Pravda through schools to our youth,
This is about vision and sound, and any means that is allowed,
Trying to persuade you against your own common sense,
This is about duplicity, making seem true what cannot be,
And hoping you will at very least sit on the fence.
This is about unelected expertise, being paid huge taxpayer fees,
Alaister Campbells school of used car salesmen integrity,
This about usage of such curs, and their lies, and their slurs,
To pull the wool over the eyes of you and me.
Maybe feeble opposition is fuelling this submission,
But this is not about parties or their competence,
This is simply a war, not about who to vote for, But who to definitely vote against.
Malcolm Pugh was a civil engineer then a systems programmer - slightly deranged retired now.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
A thought provoking poem by Malcolm Pugh