Huw Powell Poem

“Slavery Rag”
A nation wearing slavery’s rags
Is naked with blood on its hands
Saluting flags and singing your anthems
Caressing the cloth while kneeling to Mammon

Begging the dead to rule all our days
And a nation woven from slavery’s rags
Has never been worthy of praise
Hailing lambs while calling for lords
Desperate for power, your soul’s not a sword
Shoving your cross in my face if you must
But a nation sewn from slavery’s rags
Won’t mend the lies of its past
Swagger with death up and down the town hill
You’re claiming that freedom’s the power to kill
Caressing that steel and its hardening ways
A nation bloody with slavery’s rags
Has never deserved our praise
(solo if you must)
A nation quilted from slavery’s rags hides
A patchwork of crimes in its past
Chanting slogans too loud to listen
Listening to liars too proud to think
Thinking people are drowning in waves
And a nation birthed in slavery’s rags
Coins its own medals for praise
Saluting banners and singing your songs
Caressing the cloth and dodging your wrongs
Begging the dead to rule all our days
A nation still wearing slavery’s rags
Is not yet worthy of praise