Empty Vessels

Parliament’s suspended, it’s conference time

For the law givers, the makers of rules,

Sailors all in the sinking ship of fools

Foundering on the rocks of Capital’s crimes.

However they go about bailing out,

It makes no difference as to which crew

Is at the helm, nor, it seems, does the hue

Of the flag they serve under. Without doubt,

Whichever course they navigate, it’ll prove

To be in the wrong direction. No choice,

For those press ganged aboard don’t have a voice

Unless they mutiny, seek to remove

Those they’re expected to understand

Are possessors of both the sea and land.

D. A.

Look Forwards

History as yet unmade shall be the judge

Of present intentions, whither they pave

A destination either good or grave,

It is not enough to hold an image

Of what might be, but then not realise

It in reality. This world won’t change

Unless people decide to rearrange

Their situation from that which denies

Free access for all to what is needed

For lives to be lived well as possible,

A worldwide commonwealth to enable

Human potential to have succeeded.

This present is merely the passing sum

Of what’s been: look forwards to what’s to come.

D. A,  

Football Belongs To…

“Football belongs to everyone”, or so

The TV trailer dribbles, with moving

Images of goals scored, shots saved, proving,

With men and women, girls and boys, there’s no

Inequality in the people’s game.

Except, of course, clubs are the property

Of potentates, those with the equity

And leveraged deals, their motives the same,

Premier profits. Players simply assets

To be bought and sold, fans are consumers

With no control over what occurs;

Promotion, relegation, crippling debts.

Football belongs to everyone et al?

No! The whole game belongs to capital.

D. A.

Wages

From slaves in chains to serfs tied to the soil,

Such was the arrangement down the ages,

Until folk were freed to work for wages,

But their lives still remained bound up with toil.

The world has become a market place, where

Nine out of ten only have labour power

To trade for life, selling it by the hour

For much less than what they produce, with spare

Value above and beyond what is paid

In salaries. Those one of ten who control

The wealth of this world would take it all

If they could as profits have to be made.

And so, by legal sleights of hand and stealth,

The wealthy extract from workers their wealth.

D. A.

 Value

A nail or a nuclear reactor.

Each is a product of human labour,

Raw materials transformed by neighbour

And neighbour into something rather more

Useful than ore and unharnessed energy.

Both are products of all the work required

In their making. Workers only being hired

For rather less than whatever may be

The value they create, the difference,

When the total value is divided,

Is taken by those who have provided

The means whereby work works its immense

Power to create. Though those means come through

Workers previously creating their value.

D. A.

School Failings

September dons its academic gown,

School bags are being packed, pencil cases filled,

Parents, if not all students, largely thrilled;

But don’t be hasty, schools are falling down.

Look out! Look out! The concrete is cracking,

Classrooms crumble and the roof could fall in,

Lock the gates before the term can begin,

It appears integrity is lacking

From the whole structure. Keeping down the cost

Was, remains and will be the situation

Whoever forms the administration.

Labour, LibDEm, Conservative – they all

Prioritise profit and capital.

D. A.

Capitalism, Your Name is Misery

Inflation is officially falling

As unemployment rises in its place,

Each is misery, with a different face,

But both aspects are equally galling.

All pay increases will be quickly lost,

And are, at best, a temporary mask.

Yet, the most pertinent question to ask

Is surely, why should living have a cost?

After all, there’s wealth enough to go round,

Created by workers for such a small

Allowance as wages, instead of it all:

So, reasons for radical change abound.

Abolish money and inflation’s gone,

Once the battle for socialism’s won.

D. A.

Idling

A minister deplores the idle poor,

The government being moral guardians

Of the feckless many, whose only plans

Are pursuing leisure, pleasure and ignore

Any economic imperative

That invests capital with the powers

To rob them daily of valuable hours,

Until barely enough remain to live.

But don’t think these idlers idle. Once freed

From toil to cooperate with neighbours,

They then can pool their collective labours

And ensure everyone gets what they need.

It’s surely now apparent just how cash

Has become the modern slave owner’s lash.

D. A.

Snap Judgements

Skin can confer innocence or guilt,

Scrutinized by the ever watchful eye

Of the camera, and cameras do not lie,

Even if discrimination is in-built.

Innocence can’t be presumed any longer,

Human nature, it seems, is thought so flawed

It’s far better that people are outlawed

Than rely on honesty being stronger.

After all, the profit motive requires

The committing of a legalised crime,

In the stealing of unpaid for labour time,

The difference between sellers and buyers.

However depressed, at least smile a bit,

Snap judgements need you to be photo fit.

D. A.

Orange Protest

‘JUST TOP SOIL’ on orange T shirts; two fans

At the Ashes Test cocking a snook

At those match disrupters trying to look

Progressive, but ill-conceived, naïve plans

To be unsporting are easily foiled

And only provoke public annoyance

Rather than helping the cause to advance,

The wheels of reaction are too well oiled.

Protest brings headlines, but not policy,

Action leading to inaction, a schism

Obscuring how it’s capitalism

Frustrates reformers whoever they be.

Neither slogans nor satire can arrange

Circumstances to bring radical change.

D. A.