What’s happening to our democracy?

Sons and Daughters (of Robin Hood) by Damh the Bard

We all watched you on our TV,
Right honourable gentleman, apparently.
Different voices with only one aim,
To win my vote, and to win the game.
Now some have died to pave the way,
So we can vote come polling day,
X marks the spot that gives us our voice,
But how do we vote when there isn’t a choice.

(Chorus)
If you thought that we would do nothing,
You’ve misunderstood!
For we are the Sons and Daughters,
of Robin Hood!

See I remember exclusion zones,
At Solstice time around the Stones,
And the poll tax riots of Trafalgar Square,
The rich they got richer, the poor were stripped bare,
Building new roads with no thought for the land,
And the blood of the Beanfield is still on your hands,
Now drilling of Shetland will do you just fine,
And you wanted to sell of our forests,
Like you closed down mines.

There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to see here,
There’s nothing to see, won’t you just look away, there’s nothing to see here.

England’s green and pleasant land,
Is not there to put cash in your hands,
I see you symbol is the English Oak Tree,
Is that your idea of irony?
Now millions of eyes have turned upon you,
And each one is watching what you will do,
And all are ready to spoil your game,
For the blood of an outlaw it flows in our veins!

Nettle Eater – Tom Hirons

This is an extract from ‘Nettle Eater’ by Tom Hirons. Published in Dark Mountain Vol 3.

Look at the world beyond your door. Your life is on fire. Run. Dive in, though it surely means death. Taste the streams, the heather and the gorse and the broom. Hold the river stones. Sleep with the waterfall as your pillow. Braid yourself to the horse’s mane. Sing the great lament of your own lost life. In time, scar yourself with fire and stone. Immerse yourself in such immovable darkness that the lightening cracks you in two. You were never more lost than you are now, if you cannot reach out, touch the wild earth and weep.

Run! It is not yet too late, but soon it will be. Run! Do not sit there, wondering. I have told you the truth. Your own folly will become the death of us all.

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