Poetry
The conceit of The Englishman
That Timbuktu and Hong Kong ever belonged to him.
That the Oceans and the Seas were created for his seamen.
That the Rivers and Rolling Plains of ol’ England are the stuff of Heaven.
That Royalty is born not made and a Knave’s Castle signifies history.
That Fools’ Gold, Horses and Swords will carve out an Empire.
…And that the sun never goes down on Their Empire.
Oh, the Conceit of an Englishman
That the Daringness of Ruler-ship means Prosperity for the Land.
That the Ordinariness of his Imagination declaims Celestial Tokens.
That the Drabness of his life justifies Darwin’s Contentions.
That the viciousness of Natural Selection exemplifies his premiership.
That the Smugness of the house cat in the face of the Alley cat means superiority.
…And of course that the smartness of God is revealed- He picked up an English Passport
“How now, see here, take not that tone with us Englishmen
For we discovered River Niger, Climbed Mount Everest
Yes we set Industrialisation in the map of the world”.
“We met tribes like wool and tapestried nations out of em
looked in the mirror, saw a bunch of monkeys and tried again.
We wrote history, for we made it you see”.
Stanley, outstretched hand to a thin skeletal pale hand
a lily colored Island in the sea of charcoal hued bodies
“Livingstone I presume”
How earnest the conceit of a good Englishman,
That the stiff upper lip is proof of the right to rule
That world dominance is like a day at the races:
the ownership by blue blooded gents and artichoed ladies
of spirited stallions prancing elegantly. Gelded? Certainly.
Like the showmanship of the Races- han’chieves and horses,
hand-held spectacles and bonnets.
That victory on ancient battlefields ever keep
time’s landscape unchanged.
That past boundary lines drawn in blood will be kept
in peace.
Ever was it so, the conceit of the Empire-man
First it was Babylon and Sumeria. T’was Egypt and Ethiopia
From each womb of a would be empire belched Armies,
banners and horses, servants and Princes.
Then it was Greece and Roma, then Constantinople and Attila.
The Empire-man knows you see, how we need civilisation
And that you know, needs an Iron hand to rule, to lead.
So all must come under one rule, one law one king.
Only much blood can water this, therefore blood flows.
We had Spain and France, we had good ole England.
Came Russia and United States; battled for our souls
Who won? Capitalism did. Now we labour for our Masters
God save our kings- Forbes and fortune 500 Corporations
Methought we voted for governments?
Indeed but it is governing of the people by the
bureaucrats, for the Corporations.
Tis good you say. And I say aye too.
Boundaries are no longer changed by blood
but by bank draft, a teller and a many-zeroed figure.
The tax and the vat, much neater weapons
of moustachioed Petes bearing not machine gunned tributes
but rather slippery rules to hang us with the taxman nooses.
And everywhere the Law of Omerta reigns,
from Switzerland to Cayman Islands and Coast-to-Coast
From the House in White to the Street Down under, No 10.
So we wait, we who are the fruit of conceited men
hanging on to the happenstances of private lives
yet swaddled in the cradle that civilisation calls civilised
We await to see who will yet win the war of Empire-purchase.
Some tire of waiting- one bomb force-feeds a thousand.
The potency for Empire-manufacturing is now open to all.
The miracle of multiplied loaves, harvest of death
force-feeds hundreds, nay thousands with loaves of death. Individuals without armies now lay claim to the name Nero
having found the invisible robes of the Emperor.
So we wait, while we wait we work
for we who know, must work while it’s day
Knowing Empires comes, to bind, to rule with Iron hand
It eschews the milk of kindness.
It stands Rampart, banner streaming proudly on hill top.
To save us, to help us, to educate our little no-good minds.
Bless their souls; these wondrous builders of mankind
who kill us to save us from ourselves.
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Yes the conceit of the Englishman, a bit sickening isn't it. To immulate is an entrapment. The Lord Bless You.
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