Lenin makes a little foray
Into a million workers, about to chime
The anthem of what keeps man
Going from 9 to 5. The union
Is just a little confederacy where
Lenin followers gather on the roads
And on makeshift stages to convince
Some thousands of chants-men
That the worker is the soul of mankind.
And still the clock runs with
Little compensation, only a day wage
Feeding the mouths at home.
May Day is just a lot of outdated rhetoric.
Lenin was just a bald man who powered
A coal-run economy with words.
These words will keep on tumbling through time
As acrobats of a circus. It is all that a May Day is;
Words that roam inside our intellects
And die a natural death the next.
If you listen close enough you will hear
The noise of Lenin’s conscience
Murmuring beneath the voice
Of an orator on a stage.
The soul of May Day sending an SOS
To every avid listening worker.
“Mayday” “Mayday” “Mayday”
A harbinger of an impending day, not too far away……
Extinct by natural deselection.
