Protest poems

King Kanute Gospels

Christ's just method.

Christ's heart went out to the waiting crowd by the shore.
For, they were as sheep without a shepherd.
The master explained his parables to the disciples
'for they had not understood the incident of the loaves.'
Had hero-worship made a miracle out of his method,
miracle enough if man practised Christ's just method.
Before the assembly, he asked the brethren to gather,
in baskets, all left over, even crumbs
to re-distribute to the still unfed.
No famine in the world need have been
in last century of the second millenium.

Surplus transfer means political, well as economic,
democracy. In just proportion, it least wastes
votes, transfered to candidates most prefered,
in ordered choice from the first to the last
for a Sanhedrin, if not the Kingdom of Heaven.
Souls of electors and candidates, alike, are lost
with in-a-spot votes, for party pharisees or zealots.
Untaught X-voters could not ballot their names
marking, instead, the sign of the cross.
The undemocratic spot vote is cross
folk, the world over, have been left to carry.

First published in Day By Day. ( Revised. )

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Till Death Us Do Party.

Mr Right, getting hitched first past the bed-post, has the last laugh
in the British marriage stakes, that half democracy
in distress, where half the couples divorce their better half.
With wife for sale, Right's earnings out of all proportion
enfranchise French marriage in Second Ballot to his mistress,
Madame Rouge, who's in labor, for all her caution.
Joined by preachers' vain repetitions for 'Fair Vows',
wife Libby pounds the Human Rights European Court
for up-to-date methods of electing a spouse.

In first past the bed-post German marriage, Additional
Members join from a partners' List, system
of arranged polygamy. Or, the betrothal
list, on its own, allots all a share of mates to keep,
thru match-makers or bosses of their clans.
If Rouge joins Libby on the wasted-vows heap
of the throw-away society, she'll volunteer
the British referendum for German marriage, too.

Partners could opt to order their own choice, endeared
of more than one date, in multi-member marriages.
Coy Libby prefers this English-speaking peoples'
free version of electoral polygamies,
to court the democrats. An outsider approves --
since The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress --
Heinlein's linear families' stability
for children, their inheritance, old and new loves.

( 1994 )

Note: The above was published, shortly after being written, in one of those inclusive anthologies, by Anchor Books, People Like Us. This proves the poem was fairly prophetic that 'reformers', using the rights of small parties as a stalking horse, would give power to the parties, rather than the people.

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Animal sacrifices.

They were too well meaning to show their feelings,
to the immovable powers-that-be,
the distinguished professionals she went to
with the secret videos of her job at the camp.
But you could tell they deplored it, just
by the way that laid-back vet tried to say
something positive about the hellish place,
then made technical points, like an officer
picking-out 'sloppy' turn-out on a parade --
tho parade is the last thing the vivisecting
parasites want to do with their work of shame.
The masters, the victims throw their affection on,
are standing iron bars that muzzle their snuffling
innocence in cell walks round a concrete earth.
And the consultant consulted, on the animal howls
of the damned, betrayed no emotion
beyond a twitch in the face, at the betrayal
of trust from puppies poisoned for profit
in the name of objective scientific experiment.

If nature is human enough to test to destruction,
for our survival, we self-destruct.

Source: the British Channel 4 series, Countryside Undercover.

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The next poem came from a piece in The Sun news-paper:

A bid to ban bull bars on vehicles was rammed off course by the government...
A Bill introduced by both Tory and Labour MPs blamed the trendy 'frame' bumpers for up to 70 deaths a year.
But it was talked out in the Commons by Road Safety Minister Steven Norris. He said he supported the Bill's 'principles' but insisted the problem could only be tackled by Europe-wide legislation.

Note: Tory MP Richard Spring introduced another private members bill against bull bars, in 1997, after the Labour victory.

Bulling the bill.

By Europe's grace, defender of the fender,
while Brussels say cucumbers are round the bend,
a 'Road Safety Minister' to Big Brother,
filibustered the bill to ban bull bars,
that break on the wheel, with a rack on the bonnet,
to bust kids' brains, and skeletons scrap
in living flesh - as surely bumped-off the free
nation's duty and right, not to raise stakes
to a state-sponsored torture-by-accident
car-crash lottery for maiming and death.

Steerless governments put in their places
bi-partisan back-benchers, as back-seat drivers,
in ministerial limousines' careers
to power, rigged with the bull bars of rigged
electoral 'systems' in all their anarchy
of hit and run from walkers to the polls.

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About that Houghton report.

Eighties epistle to an ultra-loyalist:
Re your view the Thatcher government is 'Socialist'.
You are not welcome at the forth-coming party conference.
Faithfully yours, Central Office.

Millenial epistle to a conceivable supportee:
We are sorry old chum
that you could not come to the party
but at the time
Mrs Theta thought she was running the show
and so did every-one else in the country but you
who we look-to to restore this great party's fortunes
and, respectfully reminding you
the grapes are not sour,
your subs are due
if you would care to re-new
your undoubted commitment to our cause --
which, at least, wont have the Houghton report
make people pay for a party vote ( maybe ).

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Dead letters.

Again, an exam-zombie sleeps awake
the swinging sixties hits and banshee screams.
I pack-mule hack pedants' dead-line dreams
persuaded stay for the longer it takes
to wander as the damned thru cells of rooms.
In the great cave of wisdom's resounding dome's
din, task-masters avalanche loose-set tomes.
From creation segregate learning's tombs.
Some mine and dine with antennae entwined.

Down cobbled Book Hill, the sun's out on all
haloed bowed heads, at the funeral
of inscriptions. By ramshackle stall, in line
I stand, among strangers' respects to thrown
aside grave-tomes of piled-up leaves, alone.

First published in "The Banshee" ( UK )
Revised again, early 2006.

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Protest poems by Richard Lung

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