Dispatches from a post industrial age

My son sleeps upon my shoulder
Deep in dreams of distant ages
Recalling some race memory
The echoing call of eons past

Inside his slumber all of our common history resides
The cognitive dissonance of generations past shared within our genes
Searching for the worlds rhythm for sense beyond sight, hearing and touch
The Imperfect pitch of reason ,seeking contact with some perfect realm
Of untity within the land of sleeping giants

Awakening from some errand dream sons and daughters look upon a land formed out of toil
Yet imbued with nights sweet pondering
Whom sleeping in this idyll land
lye giants buried deep in Salisbury hill where this ancient nations spirit was forged

The spectre of this half remembered past of liberty and freedom won
Hung over Europe and this island in spirits soon made to flesh
As the centuries pasted saw deprivation carried out upon the common man by those above
Beyond the age of the rights of kings what forms fair play within dark satanic mills

Societies first question of modernity
In nations with thoughts fled from the past
Is what defines us as a people?

Fraternity, equality and liberty
A cry heard from across the waves
On the continent set a flame
As age of revolution dawns

And with this too early dawn
Came the worst of human nature
The iron boot stamping on a human face, perhaps forever
With the socialism warped to that of the national kind
Hell bent on imposition
A hydra impossible to kill
Suppressing all born of other creeds
Put to the bayonet, and the gas
This state collapses as malice consumes its flesh
As histories tidal wave must break in all expressions of excess

With mass control and double talk a cancerous legacy jumped from fascist corpse to the new host of corporate liars and old school ties
The politics of propaganda and total dilution of the will refrained to consumtion not conquest when all the world is theirs to rule
As central progress is brought to bear on an ailing humanity held down again, bearing the load of the few who we carry ,the parasites who,ed suck up dry

Yet lay upon the island green its citizens victim of two modern wars
The common people empowered them selves.
New government with services for common men
A health service free for all, state pensions for the old and unwell
Heady days of wild invention in the white heat of industry
With class barriers in retreat
Citizens in common wealth welcomed to add to a culture sick of empires

At last paradise of common commitment where children dream of better lives
Ownership of a home, a full education
a dream no more
To far, much to far our progress for some, who view us as the common working folk as scum but have not the guts to say it loud

Jump forward a generation and we get to our current state
"The rich man in this castle the poor man at his gate".
"We are all in this together" the fork tongued Osburne says unto the commons
Feudal laws returned it's only this time it only basis is in the state , church and crown faultless in this act of war upon the common folk

Out of touch and out of date and yet
The people do not rebel to held at arms length with debt and trivia
Seeing history as the trap all things considered then
Like snared rabbits ready for the pot, of fat bellied windbags who hold them in comtempt

Upon this dawn , it's time to recognise that
That all men are created equal in the soul
Time for the boot to stop stamping on our face
“This multiculturalism is the problem “
Chant the lovers of the good old days of empire and extremism
The fanatical clingers to the past
let their death rattle not last to long to engulf us all

Fat headed right wing suits with crooked smiles
Have a field day in fair England, seeing their time of irrelevance past
"The public be damned where is my share”
I went to Eton or was birth from the corporate breast"
they want their pound of flesh savaged from your heart
their mounds of money not enough

A corporation is recognised as a person in law
but is not a person
So what is the legality of our state
And so a question
What rights has man?

"All I really know is that, they really do nt REALLY care about us " Micheal Jackson

SPOKEN WORD

https://soundcloud.com/#rob-wheeldon/dispatches