The Class System... Poem by DM W

The class system should
be confined to the annals
of history. Yet
it still persists in England
like the living dead.
stumbling through the wide cracks of
a broken empire.
O it offends we critics
with its monarchy
and its strict establishment!
The only things that
run smoothly in this ' green and
pleasant land' is its
precision- like pageantry.
It runs like clock work,
unlike the trains which never,
ever are on time.
Third rate services are now
the norm, not the exception.
We serfs will not be
truly free until the Crown
falls, when the Ravens
flee from the Tower.
Presently, we must sigh and
endure, what cannot
seem to be cured, alas.
Tourist attractions
do not bring about real change.
They merely serve to
sweep all forms of injustice
under the carpet.
From the North down to the South,
urban areas
were built upon slavery.
Monuments to those
who made their money via
such vile practices,
still exist throughout this land.
Indeed, they stand tall
and proud, as if to say, 'We
are the masters of
the world! ' Yet the tide is now
turning, and old ways
are being deconstructed,
across the Arts and
across the Humanities.
All over the globe,
the oppressed are rising up,
against rigid rules and
cold- steel structures of power
They are now breaking
off their chains, in their millions.