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Poem

Every revolution ever
Devised by the most clever
From the rot, they sever
And souls naive
Of anew, believe
Assuming it not too far gone
To rectify all that’s wrong

They must be ready to stand up, then
For combat in the villain’s den
And although it is not as mighty
The sword decides who holds the pen

Yet history provides a warning
And the idealist may end up mourning
For those without a Machiavellian trait
Are warriors destined for a tragic fate
As it seems that thoroughly good men
Will never be esteemed as great

Those who gain control may revise the theme
Drifting ever further from the dream
Men of puerile mind
To knives are blind
And that vision once so fabled
Destroyed by some, we many enabled

On reflection, it makes the morose sigh
When they hear that brave man’s cry
“We serve neither King nor Kaiser”
Acting as a battle galvaniser
Due to the fact that ‘ad finem’
There’s superficial change achieved since then
And all of us are none the wiser

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