Blessed are the ignorant, for they shall sleep sound.
So you're angry with the state of play
Disgusted by the warmongers
and the apathetic
resigned to tut and say "How tragic! "
Then carry on their Stepfordian glee-ridden lives
And you want them all to stop
For once to truly understand
To feel the scourge of the Un-Wellfare State
To know the feel of the tyrants heel
As it grinds in the groin of their opulence
To deny their allegedly precious freedom of speech
When they've sod all worth hearing to say
To really get it
To commit
To change
To make a difference
To follow your stance
And your words will strike home
Shame them into action
Though that action may only be the self-interrogatory
"What can little old ME do? "
If you've a vote and a voice
You at least have a choice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem