When the votes were counted, conform with their little crosses, <br />with the ballot-boxes lying empty <br />like empty promises splashed over a Westminster canvas, <br /> <br />and the only independant candidate left in the world <br />lay broken <br />in a vice-like grip, not even a token <br /> <br />opposition remained, - gone forever... <br />candid expression censored forever, <br /> <br />and the body politic hung drawn and quartered by politicians for ever <br />on an abandoned world among abandoned constitutions, <br />free thinkers erased together, <br /> <br />even Crow had to start searching for fresh pickings... <br /> <br />29 July 1991<br /><br />Jonathan ROBIN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-moment-when-the-votes-were-counted-parody-ted-hughes-crow/
