To the Middle Class


But those were not our empires

and those were not our wars,

dear middle class. That Tony Blair,

he wasn’t ours, but yours.


Those weren’t our plantations

and those were not our slaves,

but those were our grandfathers butchered

in their muddy graves.


So now you’ve seen the light

and want to cleanse your souls

by turning our communities

into medieval holes.


You want to choke your guilt

and build yourselves anew

and so you force the working class

to choke along with you.


Where once you used conscription

and factories to kill us,

now you use the bearded screams

of the zealously religious.


Now you turn the East End

into a Caliphate

so that you can stare in the mirror

and finally feel great.


And when working-class children

lie mangled in a spray

of blood and guts, you’ll shrug it’s just

“the price we have to pay”.


How about no? And how about

we settle an old score?

You’re asking for a bloody nose.

You’re asking for class war.






From “Disoccidented” by Alfie Shoyger:


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