Baa.




They think we don't know,
how they play their deadly games,
as the rich drive to fast,
in their big cars,
their we can buy anything,
with our shiny rectangles of plastic.

They say work will set you free,
when their is non,
punishing the unemployed,
for not showing enough spirit,
or moaning at the dole queue clerk.

The feudal system continues,
gold piles up again,
as the free market,
becomes one provider,
who rips you of,
employing cheap frightened labour.

They never talked about it,
that time of mud, blood and high explosives,
symbolizing nothing and back down the mines,
after they got sick of the slaughter,
the soldier's daughter.

Already they are punishing the poor,
getting them ready for the next world war,
when everyone will be employed,
the veterans used to say that we needed another one,
to keep the numbers down.

Model aircraft will have a deadly sting,
until someone lets of a mushroom cloud,
who will it be this time?
another nation state with a universal idea of death,
maybe we'll refuse to fight
and they'll shoot us for not wanting,
to play their game.

But they never listen to poets
and failing to learn,
will do it all again;

wear your poppy with pride,
keep your legs open wide.

~