A little selfie from Pendle Hill, with the wind blowin' in me face, 'twas like the foul breath of the Wild Wind Witch of the North and nearly cut the face offa me...;)
It's National Poetry Day. We've heard a lot of lies and bluster this latest season of political conferences. I felt I should at least get something down. This is a lament...it's also a fist raised in anger...
THE RAISED FIST
Fat Cats move from baskets to buildings of History
Business of these hallowed chambers really no mystery
An abundance of greed and an absence of shame
And sound bites and image are now the true game
The ghosts of great Fire Brands now haunt those walls
And the sobs of Liberty and Justice echo down the halls
As the glory of our NHS coughs, splutters and dies
And young blood is spilled in wars from Great Lies
No more hero’s anymore, no faith, no hope, no charity,
Liars hands thrust the knife in the heart of Democracy
It is a world that they created, from ego’s fat and arrogant
A land where Humanity is a stranger, an illegal immigrant
Hear the echoes of those feet from Ancient Times
As you look upon this land of New Political Crimes
They would now walk upon England’s Streets of Mean
As morals are abandoned in the pursuit of belts of green
Our country is a poor man, stripped naked of all dignity
By sick, cruel men of wealth and health, but no integrity
You are tortured whilst robbed of your right to scream
No more land of hope and glory, the death of the dream
Ours is a No Man’s Land of desperation, of loss and need
Where pity-less Red, Blue and Yellow are the colours of Greed
Believe their democracy works, it suits their ill-gotten gains
And you are free to choose, where freedom comes in chains
Too long we’ve been assured the fruits of a Promised Land
It’s high time we claimed our ground, got a grip, took a stand
For if we do nothing we have seen the ad for what’s in store
Get back on your feet and scream at these bastards ‘No More!’
Joe O'Byrne
THE RAISED FIST
Fat Cats move from baskets to buildings of History
Business of these hallowed chambers really no mystery
An abundance of greed and an absence of shame
And sound bites and image are now the true game
The ghosts of great Fire Brands now haunt those walls
And the sobs of Liberty and Justice echo down the halls
As the glory of our NHS coughs, splutters and dies
And young blood is spilled in wars from Great Lies
No more hero’s anymore, no faith, no hope, no charity,
Liars hands thrust the knife in the heart of Democracy
It is a world that they created, from ego’s fat and arrogant
A land where Humanity is a stranger, an illegal immigrant
Hear the echoes of those feet from Ancient Times
As you look upon this land of New Political Crimes
They would now walk upon England’s Streets of Mean
As morals are abandoned in the pursuit of belts of green
Our country is a poor man, stripped naked of all dignity
By sick, cruel men of wealth and health, but no integrity
You are tortured whilst robbed of your right to scream
No more land of hope and glory, the death of the dream
Ours is a No Man’s Land of desperation, of loss and need
Where pity-less Red, Blue and Yellow are the colours of Greed
Believe their democracy works, it suits their ill-gotten gains
And you are free to choose, where freedom comes in chains
Too long we’ve been assured the fruits of a Promised Land
It’s high time we claimed our ground, got a grip, took a stand
For if we do nothing we have seen the ad for what’s in store
Get back on your feet and scream at these bastards ‘No More!’
Joe O'Byrne
Oh, and my FIRST play ever play with Photoshop - thought it suited our Frank. Now imagine if he was in charge at Westminster...? He'd fit in anyway :) Original photo by COLIN WARHURST
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