Friday, 31 January 2014

The Blackshirts


Dancing in the park
against their Austerity?
Tis not allowed young man,
and their Blackshirts are coming.

Armed with their batons,
And water cannons primed.
To enforce what ‘The Lords’ have ratified,
A ‘House of Commons’ crime.

A ‘Bill’ which says to history
that ‘Our Protest is Illegal’
‘Silence’ is our only right
Imposed with thuggish zeal.

History repeats my friend,
And soon books they will burn,
On pyres of right-wing hate
And immigrants ‘interned’.

For being in the wrong country,
At the wrong time,
A charnel house of horrors renewed
as 'Zyklon B' imbibed.

An industrial nightmare
Of smoky dread filled skies
And sooty children dying
Before their mothers eyes.

Because they can’t afford the rent,
Nor pay the water bill
Thrown out on to the streets
To die in cruel Tory Swill,

Reminiscent of Victoria’s Empire?

Ah!

Soon our food will be restricted
For those loyal to Their ‘Golden State’
For thus it will be depicted,
By the bastards who take their ‘rate’.

We live now in a future,
where non can ere live free’
from their evil command
‘unloved’
in Thatcher’s vision
Of a 'non-society'.

We are no longer Heroes,
And the Blackshirts now command
'our silence or be beaten'
in this 'land for the damned'.


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