In the Wake of New Labour

Why can't we speak of it now --
now that the summer's come,
bringing with it renewed adrenalin
as the flowers put their banners out?
Why does it have to be whispered about
as if it were some arcane joke?
The flowers don't apologise --
given light and air they celebrate.
But we have been seduced
by the market's plastic flowers;
have sold our voices out
that used to speak so unashamedly
of what so many fought so hard for.

Why can't we speak of it now
with the confidence of summer flowers?

Why do we have to apologise
to those who've swamped us into silence,
trampled all our banners down, made millions
out of what their brokers conjure from the air
in a drench of ground-polluting wealth?

Christopher Hampton

Home | Christopher Hampton New Poetry