Poetry

The Daily Revolution

By 1st January 2006December 9th, 2019No Comments

Don’t try to appease me,
Or tell me I’m insane,
I was entitled to get mad
Once the gas bill came.

Don’t tell me that it’s “all my fault”
And was, “all used up by me,”
No one man could have used that much
As on the bill for the electricity.

How much water can one home use?
Have we got a leak?
Do the kids have to bathe every day?
Instead of once a week!

What are the council charging us?
We pay but it’s a sin,
Just so a Councillor can go abroad,
For a foreign town with us to twin.

The taxman comes but once a year,
Just like Christmas time,
But unlike then, there’s no good cheer,
You cough up or pay the fine.

We buy in food, just once a week,
To keep our family fed,
But the taxman charges his percent,
Even on a loaf or bread.

To have a drink or water,
You’d think that would be free,
But no, the Board is there to see you pay
As they rub their hands with glee.

“We have to reimburse our share holders,”
You will hear the director’s cry,
But they will always take their cut
Of the whole perverted pie.

Even in the work place,
While you and I earn half a crown,
Someone there will get ten times as much
And will still try to cut us down.

We work our fingers to the bone
Just to make enough to live.
But it’s those who are at the bottom,
When need comes are the first to give.

We all do as we are told to do
Just like sheep we do behave,
We’ll be the servants of those above
Or they’ll see us in our grave.

But does it have to be this way?
Do we have to join the institution?
Why not stop and refuse to pay
And start a revolution.

So let’s stand up and let them know
We will not be pushed around.
Lets all refuse to pay our bills
And use this freedom we have found.

Pack up your jobs, refuse to work
And watch the bosses squirm,
See how they get things done
On the money that we earn,

I tried this once but soon found out,
They cut the water off to your home,
Gas and electricity are no longer there,
Friends leave and you’re on your own

So the moral of this story,
Is just cough up and pay your way,
The revolution it will have to wait,
Until another day!

Peter Bruffell

Author Peter Bruffell

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