I gazed into the starry night
Praying for some absolution,
But alas, the night stared back
Offering me little consolation.
So I walked up into the darkened hills
Seeking the wisdom the wind,
I even asked the Gods for mercy,
But received nought to ease my sins.
All pity was absent; from the Earth
And kindness gone askew’ed,
And all the men who should know better,
Tossed us into the devils stew.
Compassion, sympathy, all are gone,
And hate; it rules the gathered throng,
And so a cup my snowflake tears it fills,
On stony ground, my blood, they spill.
This is how the world ends,
With a rabid President,
Tweeting his hate,
Of a racial bent.
About his polling?
‘Good Christians’, bleat about the nigger
And cast about with unbound vigour,
How Obama was Kenyan born,
For his colour, they do nationally scorn.
And here at home, a dystopian nightmare,
Unfolds before our eyes,
As disgustingly upon her knees,
A Prime-Minister pleads with this Fascist,
For his gracious munificence?
Alas, thence come the lickspittles,
Of the indefensible,
Touring their hatreds,
Across the Twittersphere,
Parading their hate,
As a badge of honour!
The Trumpeters’ have made;
A new king, who promises,
That he ‘loves them’
A white messiah,
To make them great again?
Alas my friends, those days are gone,
With the passing of a generation,
Who smashed his kind into the dust?
Back in 45’.
R.I.P. Major Richard Winters.
And so we slide into the mire,
Of Fascism Perfected,
Stamping on the faces of the poor,
By the rich unaffected.
It his evil intention,
To soak the ground,
With glorious blood,
But not his mind you,
Yours, you stupid crud.
All glory will be his,
As your sons charge into the cannon,
His megalomania feeding the fire
That burns in the heart of Steve Bannon.
And across an angry, and darkened sea,
The Russian bear awaits,
Knowing that this enemy;
Will suffer a similar fate.
Of all those who thought once,
To strike at their frozen heart,
Those who try, fail;
And this life they do depart.
Broken, whipped, and crushed,
Their bodies falling,
To bloody earth,
And turning into dust,
In a second Patriotic War.
Only those of us, who’ve fought,
Can know of War’s great folly.
Yet those who seek to profit from it,
Appear on the News, quite jolly
Spouting their hateful rhetoric,
About how ‘they’ will crush ISIS,
But never once will their sons,
Hear the sound of guns?
They have raped the world in pursuit,
Of ‘Profit’ quite outrageous,
And claim this proves to the plebiscite,
That the Right be ‘The Courageous’.
LOL, now there’s the rub,
For everyone knows they lie,
And their Violence against the weak,
Is the only reason why,
Such scum ever get into power,
And this is always true;
Their final enemy is not,
Other men like them,
Instead, it’s always YOU.
“You are a Slave,
You have no voice”.
You were warned,
By a Roman Emperor,
To stand and make a choice.
While others flee and run away,
And mankind stands on the brink:
He will lie to your face,
And say that black, is in fact ‘pink.’
Orange is the new shit,
And upon his rank face it lingers;
Thou art given now a choice,
To clap, or give him the finger.
Resistance is everything now,
For Fascism Perfected,
Means America has become diseased,
And the world it has infected.
We here hold that,
‘All Men Are Created Equal’
But these white supremacists,
Appear, not to believe it!
Betwixt the heavens and the Earth,
A battle for your mind and soul rages
Warred upon by Alternative Facts,
Known as ‘Lies’ in History’s Pages’.
Now alas the sun, it is a setting,
And the darkness it arises,
And where once men fought for equality,
There are only lies divisive.
Alex Jones, and his ilk,
Are vipers in your garden?
Justice comes not from the end of a gun,
It comes from a people,
Who stand united?
Against the corruption,
Of the moneyed men;
And those who plunder and lay waste,
To the dreams of impoverished men?
Such men they will debase.
YOU will not be rich,
Less others, you dare like them to plunder,
This is the post factual truth
Of Trump’s blustering thunder.
And as followers of Theresa May,
Defend her sycophancy,
Britain hangs its head in shame,
Of the orange man’s necromancy,
To prostitute herself,
At the expense of Parliamentary Sovereignty,
She opens Britain’s legs,
Like a desperate whore.
To this monstrosity of a man,
A failure in everything that’s good;
A fell priest of avarice,
A thug, a gangster, a hood...
So I gaze these days,
Into these winter nights,
Praying for some sign of lasting good,
But sadly, the night is cold,
As alas, turns my blood.