We may fall in the battle for peace,
           but even in death

we stand tall.

And our stone etched in honour,
   reaches higher than any vocation.

Can a man make a difference,
              will one action make a truth.

                              the answer is
who ever passes the finish line first.

To be chanted whenever the O Machine 1 fails:

Rumor has it that the Enigma
Was to Churchill a foul stigma

And that the ancient, creaking Babbage
It was to him but so much cabbage

Colossus One and Colossus Two
Those gadgets too he began to rue

They say he let them rust and rot -
The pity is that he did not


(I checked with the Lizard People on this – Churchill’s secret Second World War computers, powered by a primordial Lemurian source of energy so dangerous that even speaking its name in the ancient language of the Atlanteans is said to be fatal, are secured in a locked vault on Oak Island and guarded around the clock (set to Martian time) by the Trilateral Masonic-Vatican Continuum of deadly albino flying fish.)

1 E.M. Forster, “The Machine Stops,” 1909, Much-anthologized

“It is essential in order to protect societyfrom the ambition, greed, and malpractice or caprice of rulers to ensure the inviolatibility of even the humblest home.  The right and power of the private citizen to appear to impartial courts against rulings of the state and against ministerial decrees of the day.  Freedom of speech in writing, freedom of the press, freedom of combination and agitation within the limits of long established laws.  The right of regular opposition to government.  The power to turn out a government and put another set of men in its place by lawful and constitutional means, and finally the sense of every individual’s association with the state and of some responsibility with the actions and conduct of the state.”

Ole Hunchback
Got a right Royal burial;
That smiling villain's bones
Bleached black-blonde
In underground parking.
Exhumed and parlayed
For over two years;
Confirmed to be he
Who caused a Queen
To cry vats of tears
For the Tower boys.
Poor Anne dropped her hankie.
His horse-drawn caisson
Is a subterfuge,
A distraction to veil
Civil dissatisfaction.
He finally got his horse,
And we get the droppings.
And I see Cromwell
Standing beside Churhill
And Charles ouside
Westminster.
Perhaps Manson
Will be busted
In Poet's Corner.