Monday, 20 June 2016

The Descent into Darkness.

Ye who run before the fight
Who scurry away into the Night,
Like rodents in a stinking sewer
To hide, to fester, in uncontested manure.

Your morality is to run like dogs,
To let us be ruled by demagogues,
Who from their gleaming ivory towers,
Call the rest of us 'worthless showers'

And as they concoct a stinking brew
The Tory leavers let you stew
In a broth of outright racist lies,
And twisted truths of British tithes.

So you sit there and ponder,
The words of these lesser men,
Whose faltering agenda
is not hard to ken.

Michael Gove offers us,
A vision of a golden age;
Where men can stand erect,
And earn a living wage.

But do not be deceived, my friends.
For all his words are false!
He, like is fellow conspirators,
Has been bought by a nonce.

Lurking in the background,
our true enemy gurns his smile,
And gloats as we buy
Into his stinking squalid bile.

That it is the 'Other' who is to blame,
The Muslim and the Black,.
The malodorous Brussels,
Full of its noisome bureaucrats.

Over and over, ad-nausea
they tell us of Brussels foul odour;
As though they are somehow,
not part of that Elite order?

Their malicious policies have killed
Thousands of your countrymen.
But don't let their hatred of the common man,
Interrupt your corrupted ken.

And now the hour closes
And that which us divides,
Was sown by amoral criminals
To gain Cameron's golden prize!

These are not intellectual giants,
Nor be they men of valour.
Instead, they are dirty little whores,
And it's England they'll deflower!

Cast not away your ability
To think for yourself;
Stop listening to the coward,
The darker side of self!

You have to be better,
Than those who've sowed the seeds of hate,
who feed us all their malice
who seek a Fascist Sate.

Instead awaken, look up
to an endless sky of hope,
Do not let these lesser men,
Take you for a dope.

Something wicked this way comes
And it is led by Michael Gove,
You say you want your freedom,
But he scheme's to take your trove.

He is a monstrous criminal.
A malicious force for ill.
And if you follow this evil man,
You'll find it a bitter pill.

For they will sell off everything
that all our fathers fought for:
and the Golden Age they promise you,
is but a castle in the sky!

It's a dream of something that was once for them,
but in truth, it never was for us!
The garden of Merry old England ,
where the plebs know their place!

And thus they seek ever
To return us to that time,
Where the poor are made meek
And demanding equality is a crime.

Oh England do not be deceived.
By these criminal's intent.
They do not mean to serve you
And are not heaven sent.

They intend to rape you,
To impose a tyranny of their own,
And keep their beloved golden bitch,
Securely on her throne.

It is hard to free fools,
from the chains they love.
But there is no freedom waiting
No freedom and no love.

The other side of leaving?
It's not a golden door.
It's the death of a dream
And a dark chasm without a floor!

What fools are men,
Who swap one set of chains for another,
If you want freedom
Stand with your brother!

But that is beyond you now,
For you've been sold the lie
That by leaving the EU
Despotism, it will die?

Ah, do not make me laugh,
For their protestations are all false,
They are the tyrants, and we?
are the targets of their wrath.

Michael Gove and his ilk, they hate you.
Heed me, for these words I speak are true;
They want an England that once was,
Where its bounty is never shared with you!

We come into this world
unknowing of the past,
Of whom and when, and where and what;
And how it came to pass,

That a privileged elite few?
raped the world, and ripped it all asunder
As they stole for themselves our collective wealth,
through war and bloody plunder!

These men are not patriots,
They are pirates through and through;
Thieves, knaves, rapists;
And their prey my friend,

No tax levied
Ever made a Rich Man Poor:
That, my friend, is the true enemy
Knocking on your door!

These elitist rich boys
Tell you. "Trust me you'll all be fine."
'Give me all your power
and I'll make your money mine.'  [sotto voce]

They do not love you
They hate you.
Your very existence is a threat,
To their dominion and the money
That they ill begat.

And now the dance is nearly over,
The darkness awaits.
So make your mark, and prepare yourself,
To pass, through the devils unholy gate.