The future's just a re-run of the past

The shock on people’s faces as they realised at long last
that the future being written was a re-run of the past
A stutter in the narrative as ages come to pass,
for the pen that plots the future’s held within the ruling class

All that changed was borders, from the third world to the first,
an artificial bubble that had bloated and then burst

Horror exported overseas had been returned to shore...s,
misery accompanied by the ruling cliques applause,
as economic sanctions gouge the masses who had stood
and cheered their tattered flags as banners heralding the good,
immune and so far distanced from the acts done in their name,
too quick to follow whispers and the fingers pointing blame,
too lazy and apathetic to dig beyond manicured lies,
relying on anothers view whilst slowly gouging eyes.

As the drops started to fall from the quickly growing storm
vacant looks of disbelief and shock became the norm,
for ignorance can shelter when the storms a far off sight
but does nothing when your own sun dims from a fast approaching night,
and all those things that comforted, those things for which we craved
were stepping stones upon a road now cleared, levelled and paved,
the first rungs on Jacobs ladder as we descend from lofty heights,
the stream becomes a river that erodes once solid rights.

Anthems now become the beat of goose stepping jack boots,
our rights as individuals stolen by those who’re in cahoots,
corporate masters in their towers to whom commodities abound,
and the demagogues who ride the vote and with our gold are crowned,
an unholy alliance of two evils that have wed,
the hand holding the wallet, and the w***e with both legs spread.

Oh the cries will deafen, and the wails will rend the air,
a cacophony of millions voicing rage, shock and despair,
an echo of the cries from which our way of life was born,
the slave ships and invasions that saw countless “others” torn
from where their roots had taken in their own ancestral lands,
now finding a voice in those who bow before their brands,
a victim who stood silent as they watched attackers near,
the vehicle run right off the road and still refused to steer,
voyeurs who are gagged and bound with the help of their own hands,
prisoners held hostage by the weight of their demands,
victims of the apathy we’ve shown to those we’ve caused
to have their lives destroyed by our unjust aggressive wars,
sentences we passed in our luxurious pursuits,
our use of raw aggression to resolve global disputes,
the racism inherent in the history we teach,
our talk of equal rights that we keep firmly out of reach.

The shock to see chickens return that we sent off to roost,
we lifted lids, and now cry out at what Pandora’s box has loosed

Our bribery of excess will not help when we become
another source of profit to the ones holding the gun,
no longer just content to take the gold that we have earned,
a lesson come too late to those whose judgement has returned.