Alan Morrison

Poem For Jeremy Corbyn

In corduroy cap and crumpled shirt, he came, not from
Outside of Parliament as one might have expected
The new political prophet to usher from, as once old
Keir Hardie came shocking Tories in his tweed cap
And corduroy trousers –no, Corbyn came from inside
Parliament, although from the furthest flung left-wing
Green benches long neglected by New Labour and
The Blairites for the neoliberal lullaby, where a handful
Of true Labourites bit their tongues for decades chomping
At the bit as “New”, “Blue” and “One Nation” Labour’-
Substitutes bowdlerised hard-fought-for ideals, sold them
Out to the tabloids, private sector opportunists and City
Speculators, all for a thumbs up from the Murdoch red-
Tops and the empty triumph of power at the expense
Of principles; but now it is “True” Labour with the rise
Of Corbyn through whom we can now see the only true
Power: the power of hope, the power of compassion,
With historic late bloom of the blood-red Rose under
The nurturing green fingers of this socialist of Islington
North, no gentrification but a genuine grassroots
Regrowing of a true-grit, reinvigorated, remobilised
Labour Movement –for the first time in over thirty years
The Party has returned to its roots, its’ true foundations,
And these foundations are movable, were ever moving
Towards a progressive evergetism, leftwards to
The fundamentally Good Society that socialism had taken
On the baton from practical Christianity to bring about
And build upon –and now is the hour, it comes with Corbyn,
A once-in-a-blue-moon blooming of Labour’s Red Rose …

But no celebration is permitted for victories of the Left
In British politics, for now the fight is on to win hearts
And minds in spite of the neoliberal establishments’ many
Arsenals, monopolies and weapons primed to appear
As prompt as Corbyn’s victory speech, to smear, defame
And slur his name in the gutter red-top press, the Daily Nail
And Daily Repress, for they will attempt a coup de papier
Of elephantine headlines denouncing “Crimson Corbyn”,
“Red Jeremy”, this “threat to our nation’s security”,
This ‘Nationaliser Lenin’, this “scrounger”-loving, “anti-
Business” ‘old Trot’ or ‘one man tribute band to Nye Bevan’,
A ‘rabble-rousing no-good do-gooder’ ingratiating
Himself with refugees and immigrants and all the hoi polloi
And lumpenproletariat –how dare he?– (he even writes poetry!
As Clement Attlee used to) anticipating his future feeding
Of five thousand foodbank users, they’ll want to crucify him,
Any which way they can -in case he actually can smash
The 'post-Thatcherite consensus' that's traumatised all of us
For over thirty years, once and for all- through public
Opprobrium brought on by hyperbolising his democratic
Socialism as “Bolshevism”, his commitment to peace in
Palestine and Ireland as ‘Hamas-palming’ and ‘IRA-rallying’,
They will try to crucify him with his own words by twisting
Them into rhetorical crowns of thorns, and then they’ll try
To nail him to crosses of their scoops, and sundry Blairite
Grandees will be waiting eagerly in the wings to give him
The Judas Kiss before he’s pilloried and flogged and dragged
Before the Murdoch press carrying his own cross (of course
They'd like his head on a platter) –O we’ve seen this all before,
How many times, one loses count, but it’s likely our neoliberal
Establishment will dish its worst and dirtiest against this
Kindly “dinosaur” of all our cause, worse smears than ever
“Red Ed”, Neil ‘ginger Taff’ Kinnock or Michael ‘scruffy
Professor’ Foot endured – the Party apparently ‘RED
AND BURIED!’ on the morning after the triumph
Of the night before –No, the Party is more alive than ever
Before! So, comrades, we must be ready for the fight
Of the Red Flag against the right-wing might of red-tops,
Blue Torch and jingoistic Jack; O how many times have we
Seen this before, prophets hath no honour in their own
Lands or among their kin, but we must make sure this time
The righteous will win over cynicism, cupidity, selfishness,
Greed and social cruelty of our Thatcheritic anti-culture–
Let this moral triumph mushroom, no pyrrhic victory –
Let’s not stand idly by as they try to crucify another ‘J.C.’…

Alan Morrison © 2015