Thursday, May 27, 2021

Socialist Sonnet No. 35



The tyrant broods in his distant castle,

Plucking adversaries out of the air

To languish in the dungeons of his lair;

Every man, woman and child his vassal.

Yet, even at the zenith of his power,

Despots abroad with critical tongues

Will conceal their own by speaking his wrongs,

Each hoping to baulk their reckoning hour.

And secure they are while people can’t see

The chains that bind them to separate lands

Are being forged and re-forged by their own hands:

If they saw the links they might set themselves free.


What holds in thrall all working folk et al

Is the despotism of capital.


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