This is a poem that I wrote a good while back and was included in a collection published by Trafford (2005) called "The Marginal Line". Things have got much worse since then and soon you will need a license just to go outdoors. Sacrifices to be made.... the markets, the markets! A curious mix of money and regulation!
The Market Dictate
They tell you it's great
Down in sub-section four
On the set aside farms
Where they lock up
The poor.
Who'd forgotten to file in
Before it's too late
Now they're serving the needs
Of the market dictate.
As the credit runs out
On your permit to walk
Outside on the pavement
Nobody talks.
The neon reminders
Read out from the wall
That the Bicycle License
Collector will call.
And if you've done nothing
There's nothing to hide
So trade in your name
For the numbers inside.
Yeah! Trade in your name
For the numbers inside,
Put an x on the spot
Where democracy
Died.
Frank Murphy.
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