No…

‘No Irish, no Blacks, no Dogs’, set in quotes

From a world and a time long gone, or so

It might be presumed, or should it now go

None of those arriving in rubber boats?

Ballistics do not respect borders,

As poverty pays no heed to flags flown,

Changing climate means sea levels have grown

Dangerously high; by such disorders

People, not migrants, are forced to retreat,

To abandon homes, to cross stormy seas

Hoping for better, but no guarantees,

Somewhere fairness is the common conceit.

Meanwhile, politicians are none too slow

At taking advantage of saying, ‘NO!’

D. A.

No…

‘No Irish, no Blacks, no Dogs’, set in quotes

From a world and a time long gone, or so

It might be presumed, or should it now go

None of those arriving in rubber boats?

Ballistics do not respect borders,

As poverty pays no heed to flags flown,

Changing climate means sea levels have grown

Dangerously high; by such disorders

People, not migrants, are forced to retreat,

To abandon homes, to cross stormy seas

Hoping for better, but no guarantees,

Somewhere fairness is the common conceit.

Meanwhile, politicians are none too slow

At taking advantage of saying, ‘NO!’

D. A.

11.11.11

Cataracts of poppies pour into parks

And public spaces. The not forgetting

Has become a theatrical setting

Where the performance of remembrance lurks.

Pieties are preached, lone bagpipes skirled,

The Last Post bugled, cadets paraded.

All observe silence, even the jaded

Are restrained from pointing out how the world

Hasn’t seen war ended, despite the fallen;

Age didn’t wither them, but machine guns did.

National capitals continue to collide,

Yet, should the ranks of workers think again,

Then they might transcend borders that divide

And spurn futility of national pride.

D. A.

Halloween

Halloween marks the way to the season

Of remembrance: let the dead be recalled

To mark how too frequently peace has stalled,

For which there’s one fundamental reason,

The persistence of capital in its

Voracious pursuit of profit, heedless

Of the inhuman cost, of the needless

Near countless lives lost. The market sits

In impersonal judgement as to where lies,

Not a moral, but the fiscal value,

Wherever barbarism’s breaking through,

No matter which blood drenched flag it flies.

Leaving the haunted, those who always lose,

To appear almost live on rolling news.

D. A.

Halloween

Halloween marks the way to the season

Of remembrance: let the dead be recalled

To mark how too frequently peace has stalled,

For which there’s one fundamental reason,

The persistence of capital in its

Voracious pursuit of profit, heedless

Of the inhuman cost, of the needless

Near countless lives lost. The market sits

In impersonal judgement as to where lies,

Not a moral, but the fiscal value,

Wherever barbarism’s breaking through,

No matter which blood drenched flag it flies.

Leaving the haunted, those who always lose,

To appear almost live on rolling news.

D. A.

Your Party…Not Mine

On a gloomy Autumnal Saturday,

The red revolution in its latest

Incarnation, trying its very best

To look credible, made its ponderous way

To the bandstand in a Huddersfield park.

Bearing aloft flimsy flags and placards

Proclaiming this new party, hopeful words

Unable to dispel what is the stark

Reality, Lenin’s inheritors

Still misrepresenting socialism,

Soon to be riven by split and schism,

Another grouplet the voter ignores.

But, even if they don’t suffer that fate,

At best they’ll move capital to the state.

D. A.

Shouting Down

Clamorous cacophony of discontent:

Public outrage finds some collective voice,

Finds its feet, finds its demagogic choice

Of blame bearer, but then does not relent

To draw breath, reflect, perhaps consider

How another view might well be taken,

One more profound, one that might awaken

Perception, challenge the highest bidder

For visceral thought to think again

About those parties who’re in contention,

Laying claim to popular dissention,

Offering their quack final solution.

While anger and shouting are in season,

They’re muting the measured voice of reason.

D. A.

Wading Through the Motions

The great, the good, the faithful, gathering

In conference halls, to bask in oration,

Of how they’re going to save the nation

Via three or four days of blathering,

As well as much waving of flags of course:

They will have the answers, once they find them.

Now all their past mistakes are behind them,

Not that they have any cause for remorse.

Immigration? Free Trade or Protection?

All the threadbare old arguments elide

As markets, not politicians, decide,

No matter who might win an election.

Leaders speak! Delegates go home again,

While ills of capitalism remain.

D. A.

They & We

THEY are belligerent, perfidious.

Whereas, WE are civilised, trustworthy,

Favouring an open society,

Which is why THEY connive to confound us,

Fashioning munitions, missiles and drones

To advance their ambitious aggression,

Engineering international tension;

Hostility’s the marrow in their bones.

It’s only to keep our borders secure

WE maintain peace with military might,

Only slaughter when WE decide it’s right

To do so, certain our motives are pure.

But, who are THEY? Who WE? It’s surely clear

There’ll be neither once borders disappear.

D. A.

History Classes

History is a chronicle of change,

Incessant, of both advance and delay.

Rome wasn’t built, nor was it lost, in a day:

Became, then went, once kings could arrange

Affairs, until their castles also fell

When commerce and capital promoted

Themselves and the world became devoted

To their interest. Although it might feel

The way things are must always remain so,

The few usurping the wealth made by many,

With vital human needs needing money

To be satisfied. Yet all this can go

Should the majority say, ‘It’s ended!’

Capitalism can be transcended.

D. A.