Socialist Sonnet No. 208

Your Party…Not Mine

 

On a gloomy Autumnal Saturday,

The red revolution in its latest

Incarnation, trying its very best

To look credible, made its ponderous way

To the bandstand in a Huddersfield park.

Bearing aloft flimsy flags and placards

Proclaiming this new party, hopeful words

Unable to dispel what is the stark

Reality, Lenin’s inheritors

Still misrepresenting socialism,

Soon to be riven by split and schism,

Another grouplet the voter ignores.

But, even if they don’t suffer that fate,

At best they’ll move capital to the state.

 

D. A.