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