June ‘25: One Year of the Rat. And the Rise of the Roar

One year ago, we queued to vote,

ballots to cast into dreams and hope.

We chose the red to end the blue,

Believed in lies dressed up as new.

But now the mask slips off with speed:

The rat gnaws, its prey bleeds.

.

The Starmer state so sharp and cold

Doles out hunger, while weapons are sold.

A welfare slash, a protest ban,

The rule of suits, not working man.

Their promised “change” is merely in name,

A darker shade of Thatcher’s game.

.

The old, cold and disabled have bills unpaid,

While bombs landing in Gaza are UK made.

Their echo, a reflection of the soul of Blair,

The smirk of Empire is everywhere.

And now the membership begins to hiss:

“We didn’t vote for any of this.”

.

But look, two sparks defy the dark,

courageous souls are on the march. 

Zarah stands where few dare tread,

And Corbyn rises, as if from the dead.

They do not bend, they do not crawl

For the perennially ignored it’s their roar to war.

.

This isn’t brand or polished prattle,

It’s rage refined to resist and battle .

A breaking from the stitch-up script

Where every choice is double-dipped,

Where both red and blue in truth conspire

To keep the poor beneath the wire.

.

The stage is ours, if we dare to build

From scraps and dreams the rich have killed.

Westminster winces, lips held tight

For now, they see the coming fight.

A movement born not from above,

But fed by hardship, of never having enough.

.

So let the donor class despair,

And tremble below their bouffant hair.

The crowd is turning, hearts unchain,

A reckoning rides down the lane.

One year of lies, a bitter feast.

It’s time to feed the hunger for those who have least.