When with one last gasp, feudalism
Died on the steps of a grim factory
Its body was ignored as the clock chimed and
The serfs of old trod upon it
It was a revolution they say, and with it
The walls rose up, bigger, thicker than before
And the pebbled soil beneath
Covered with squares of dull stone
And paced adamantly by grim-faced foremen
At the gate each man was stripped of all
History and talent he had accumulated
All luxuries
For all that was needed was a sixty-degree turn, counterclockwise
Every nine seconds- truly
A revolution of the highest order
The bright eyes dimmed, and the clamor became a
de facto moment of silence that nobody sought to end-
What was there to cry for in jubilation, when
Their peril and suffering was taken from them
And turned in short order into
A tailored suit for the man who watched above
A new era inaugurated, but age old struggles
Would come again, as in all eras that lay
Long forgotten and built over
On the same rotten foundation
Unspoken Politics 