Satin Skirt

I walk alone
My head filled
With new and revolutionary
Concepts. They trouble me.
My comrades
Have flown
Home before me
No one can question my loyalty
Glory and beauty
Are gone now

There is, I feel,
A universal need
To be needed
And the intensity
Of my hopes
Is oppressive
And the sky
Is dark and dull and clouded
I am dressed in black
For I buried myself today

And, deep within, I yearn
For a long, red, swinging, satin skirt

The Peasants are Revolting

I see you are exposed

Naked, deposed

You once ruled over

Isolated islands

A contented populace

Each knew their place

 

Undisturbed, unrivaled

Ennobled,  exalted

Until your subjects revolted

Heaven-sent but earth bound

Firmly tethered to the ground

You drop dead without a sound

Some Bloke Called….

…James Purnell is getting tough on benefit claimants (a.k.a: ‘untermenschen’) in an effort to win the votes of Mail On Sunday readers.  He singles out drug addicts for ‘special treatment’.  They will be ‘punished’ if they do not attend rehabilitation programmes.  He read PPE at Oxford. So he’s been there then.  ‘I know the bottom, he says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there.’  Heroin addicts are currently weaned off their drug of choice with a substitute called ‘methadone’.  I can think of a more effective treatment: a cocktail of phenobarbitol and an anti-emetic.  A single dose will be all that is necessary and they will sleep the deepest sleep of all.

Mr Purnell, here’s a clue
No matter what you say
No matter what you do
Those Daily Mail Readers
Will never vote for you
So turn and watch the few
Who still believed in you
Walk away, saying, ‘Et tu’.

This could be the realization of a revolutionary’s wet dream. The bloodier the better, I say.

Don’t you know
They’re talkin’ about a revolution
It sounds like whisper
Don’t you know
They’re talkin’ about a revolution
It sounds like whisper

While they’re standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
Wasting time in the unemployment lines
Sitting around waiting for a promotion

Poor people gonna rise up
And get their share
Poor people gonna rise up
And take what’s theirs

And finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin’ ’bout a revolution. Hold on.
Yes, finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin’ ’bout a revolution. Hold on.

Rest assured that if you declare war on me I will defend myself. By any means necessary.