Sunday, 24 March 2013

Replace him with a Lawnmower (1)

Who is this wanton dunce of Mistress Foul,
so vile of manner, face and speech? Malign
as boots with twenty holes and blood-soaked laces,
this brute with brows as lumpish as his thoughts
would fain your money steal, then place it on
a blazing fire, and laugh and dance and point
in pointless envy at the flames and smoke
and ash, proclaiming, “Now, we all are equal!
And all is fair! And none are rich! For wealth,
success and aspiration: all are killed!”
With socialism’s spade, he bids a hole
be dug by those who still would work, and when
the hollow pit is made, inters the urn
of burnt remains, and buries all our children’s futures.

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