Fallen For (after Binyon) With political trickery, a leader for the elite, Bojo ignores the dead across the street. Flesh of our flesh they were, spirit of our spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free market. Deluded the tabloids thrill; Death in April and May Shouts false statistics into immortal spheres, There are threats in the midst of isolation And stories that preys upon our fears. They went unmasked to the park, they were young, Straight laid limbs, shaded eyes, alert and aglow. They were defiant to the end despite odds uncounted; They laid with their faces to the sun. They shall grow not old, as we that isolated grow old: Age shall not weary them, though the media will condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will be encouraged to forget them. They will mingle not with their mourning friends again; They will now only appear in familiar tables of statistics; They have no place in the propaganda of the daily papers They sleep beyond England's foam-lipped myths. Through manipulated desires and false hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that tempted us outside, To the innermost heart of their urge to herd us, we knew their plans As the stars are known to the Night; And their reign shall be bright when we are dust, Buried in boxes on this ungodly plain; As the wealth that is created in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, it remains unchanged.
©Poetcurious.2020