I may be a decaying
sixty something old bloke
but when those who folk elect
choose division and disrespect,
I choose woke.
Woke for those whose skin gets burned
by the fires the papers stoke,
woke for those whose every moment
is as the butt of some witless joke.
Woke to all these bastards
whose dream is Kristallnacht,
woke to the hope that they choke.
When those who ride a Rolls Royce
silence one more unheard voice,
I choose woke.
Woke for the dispossessed,
shattered wheels with no spoke,
woke for the helpless,
the hopeless and broke.
When last year’s ‘snowflake’
is this year’s ‘woke’,
what’s so wrong with being awake?
I choose woke.
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