Dancing Consiences

This is essential a Socialist rant about the timless and, seemingly endless, practise of attacking the poor. Not only is it a poem highlighting the guilt of those persecuting theneedy but also about the majority of 'us' who say and do nothing about it!

The screaming silence of a million forgotten graves,

A million tears that have fallen and stained the ground,

Leaving nothing but cheap, petrol station flowers.

They have left for a new dwelling,

Entering a warmer and more comfortable house.

Where a raging fire welcomes them home.


No more must they endure the

Bracing winds,

Driving rains,

Draughty beds,

Coal-smothered faces and

Empty days of poverty.


And yet our consciences dance

Free and weightless.

We bear no guilty albatross,

We suffer no restless sleep

With our dreams disturbed by a rugged, ragged trousered phantom.


This is the crucifixion of the poor.

And you and I, we are Judas Ascariot-

The guilty bystanders-

As we bear the load of the four horsemen.

Hand in hand we swirl round and round,

Like a barbed wire and bullet prison.


Our silence resonates and shouts;

It drowns out a million funerals,

Of a million faceless victims.

And our consciences still dance,

On a million forgotten graves.


The End

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