Sunday, 16 October 2011

The Revolting Ode


As all growth falters and the darkness looms
we billions watch, our fear growing each day.
Some sit in their homes in their empty rooms

stare at their screens and have nothing to say,
or cry their tears of rage and rising fear
through powerless words that their fingers spray.

And others, their numbers growing each year,
complain bitterly and head for the street
while politicians and the rich all sneer.

And well they might those who have life so sweet.
They live in a dream blind to what will come.
Huge numbers suffer, resources deplete

and all of your plans to what will they sum?
To revolution and a boundless slum.


But wait! Praise the rich. They will save us all!
Their good investments trickle down to us.
Is it not the way? Don't they stand so tall?

Don't they wisely choose and they make no fuss?
If not for them, well, would we not all die?
Would we not be left with vomit and puss?

They are our leaders and do you know why?
They were born to rule and we to follow.
Where we play in dirt they rise up and fly.

We know: what pride we have we must swallow -
for only the rich can save us from hell.
Without them: in our own shit we'll wallow.

It's the truth and there's nothing else to tell.
If you feel like crying you might as well.


There will always be rich. They sprout like weeds.
It's at the core of what we are - predate!
Predate! The rich will satisfy our needs.

Come brothers and sisters why should we wait?
Why should we stand and watch all our dreams die?
When all we need to do is accept fate.

As one, rise, rise up - let loose your war cry!
Fear not the bullets of their dogs of war!
There is starvation if you do not try.

When at last we have evened up the score
and the blood of the rich showers like rain
fear not that the wealthy will be no more.

They will always come again and again
for who can ever feel another's pain?

1 comment:

  1. This was my first attempt to write constrained by the traditional Ode form. The structure was based on one of the Ode forms that Shelly used.

    No wonder the form has largely died out - what a difficult structure. No wonder poets like Keats were held in such high esteem - to be able to write freely as if completely unconstrained yet keep to the form - that was indeed brilliance.



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