Friday, April 02, 2010

Epic Farce

The Telegraph report a presposterous story today, it breached yesterdahy and everyone was sent scurrying to find out if it could be a poisson d'avril. Of course not. These people are as ridiculous as they seem.
The European Agency for Fundamental Rights is seeking "to contract a poet or other experienced individual to devise a poetic composition based on the articles of the EU charter".
Friso Roscam-Abbing, the rights agency's spokesman, explained that poetry could turn the dry, legal language of the charter, into something "more relevant to European citizens".

According to the EU Agency,
This "Charter in Poems" (working title) should be composed in English (literary language). The piece will then be performed at the Fundamental Rights Conference 2010, to take place in Brussels on 7 December. This performance should be approximately 80 minutes in length, and should be supported by multimedia elements and/or other artistic performances (dance, music, etc.). It should be a group performance that reflects the diversity of the EU. The performance itself need not be limited to just English, and indeed is encouraged to include other official languages of the EU.

Oh brother.


The Minstrel Boy said...

How's this for starters?


Our fathers built us an empire great.
With cities grand, and welfare state.
A greater nation you never did see.
For better lives, and liberty.

They worked the mines for heat and power,
and worked the mills for such long hours.
They smelted iron and cast the plough,
and earned the freedoms we all know now.

Then came men from over the sea.
They saw this prize and went away,
and returned with armies, ships and planes,
but their intentions failed in vain.

We stood our ground and held it fast,
for six long years the siege did last,
though many fell, we did not give way,
and we honour the lost, on remembrance day.

Through years of peace, we toiled and gained,
our prosperity and growth sustained.
While devious foes, with envious eyes,
among us came, in friendly guise.

In contented lives and ignorant bliss,
we did not taste their poisoned kiss.
Like a plague, the corruption spread,
our economy ravaged, whole towns left dead.

Too late, we realised our plight.
Fortunes lost and squandered overnight,
and with the morning, another news story,
no jobs, no homes, no rights, no glory.

What traitorous leaders, and sleight of hand,
to deceive us all, and betray our land.
This privilege bestowed in trust to hold,
all credibility lost in their greed for gold.

I walked the streets of my dying town.
I passed the shops, all now shut down.
Although I saw people in the streets,
not a hopeful gaze did my eyes meet.

Some ragged cloth, in an overfilled skip.
Blowing in the wind, like a stranded ship.
A ragged woman stuffed a carrier bag,
with old clothes for her scrawny lad.

I found a flag, ‘The Union Jack’,
and feeling cold, wore it on my back.
It kept me warm all through the night,
and I folded it up at first daylight.

I walked out onto a country fell.
A beloved place that I knew well.
I dug a hole and then I prayed,
and laid the flag down in it’s grave.

I buried it deep down in the earth,
then covered it with fresh green turf.
I turned and left with heart enraged,
as I laid to rest our heritage.

My loyalty, I’ll no longer bestow,
unto a government that sinks so low.
It will take a lifetime to regain the trust,
of people, whose lives and hopes you crushed.

The Minstrel Boy.

All poetry is © 2009.
But in the interests of freedom and democracy, and exposing the EU truth and lies, permission to reproduce is granted.

Anonymous said...

that's nationalism dude!

if you were german, people'd call you nazi for that.

Gawain Towler said...

In Britain just a saddened patriot. No calls to do anything to anyone other than to refuse to honour our Government.