This is a poem I wrote in 1997, when I was twenty two. Yes, a poem. Do not adjust your set. I found it in a Word document on my hard disk on Friday with no comments or anything in it. I have, quite honestly, no recollection of writing it. I don’t even like poetry. I had to Google the first couple of lines of it to make sure that it wasn’t a poem of someone else’s that I had written down, or a song, or something.

I don’t think it’s intended to be funny so it’s not exactly in line with other things I post here. Also, please be nice. This is something I wrote a long time ago, when I was young and stuff. These days I’m a possible contender for Most Thick-Skinned Person ever but, back then, I wasn’t so much, and I feel that I’ll end up reading your unpleasant comments in some sort of strange flashback mode. I was very much in two minds about posting this – I reread it yesterday and I didn’t think it looked terrible, but then I don’t know anything about poetry. Heaven knows why I wrote some. Oh well, here goes. Cry Havoc.

Same again, please

As democracy thunders through acres of tape
In some topical communist state
The headlines smile on at the Forces of Good
As they line up the Forces of Hate

The public euphoria seen on the streets
Shows a people released from their past
They knock down their walls and burn their bridges –
They’re free from oppression at last

But the days grow shorter and the queues grow longer
And taxes are starting to climb
The rose-tinted spectacles get slightly stronger
But the government needs some more time

So the tension flares up and the populous march
And the activists refill the square
Slitting the throats of the same old scapegoats
And firing their guns in the air

Out comes the tear gas, the crowd is dispersed
The Army is back on patrol
We’re into another state of emergency
But everything’s under control

 Last year’s leader gets out of his chair
And taps his cigar on the floor
He slowly and steadily straightens his hat
Turns round, and opens the door