So if you want to see Spartacus, come to the park, come to the park with me. If you want to see Spartacus, search him out in the 21st century.
And I’d heard of his final battle, the last stand, and his crucifixion there, and the famous story of how his body was never found anywhere.
He said, There are slaves in the hands of the banks, slaves in the arms of the state, slaves to the wage, to the zero-hour contract, slaves to the zero-hour rate.
So I went online to track him down, to seek him out in the cyberworld, and typed his name into the search box, the key and the password. So if you want to see Spartacus, come
He said, You can’t see the chains for the rust. You can’t see the whips for the scars. You can’t see the crosses for the dust, but we’re still fighting where you are.
We flared and we fused in the halo of streetlights, we danced and we dived and we ducked, till the shop windows rained, till the windscreens wept, till the airbags burst and the bumpers bucked.
I’d known of him, the legendary rebel, the gladiatorial slave who’d broken his shackles, who’d raised his own army, who’d plundered his master’s grave.
Here is the text of the poem Spartacus MMXII by Simon Armitage. This poem was commissioned for the London 2012 Cultural Olympiad and originally appeared as a large-scale public artwork. He said, There are slaves in the hands
So if you want to see Spartacus, come to the park, come to the park with me. If you want to see Spartacus, search him out in the 21st century.
And I’d heard of his final battle, the last stand, and his crucifixion there, and the famous story of how his body was never found anywhere.
He said, There are slaves in the hands of the banks, slaves in the arms of the state, slaves to the wage, to the zero-hour contract, slaves to the zero-hour rate.
So I went online to track him down, to seek him out in the cyberworld, and typed his name into the search box, the key and the password.
He said, You can’t see the chains for the rust. You can’t see the whips for the scars. You can’t see the crosses for the dust, but we’re still fighting where you are.
We flared and we fused in the halo of streetlights, we danced and we dived and we ducked, till the shop windows rained, till the windscreens wept, till the airbags burst and the bumpers bucked.
I’d known of him, the legendary rebel, the gladiatorial slave who’d broken his shackles, who’d raised his own army, who’d plundered his master’s grave.
Here is the text of the poem Spartacus MMXII by Simon Armitage. This poem was commissioned for the London 2012 Cultural Olympiad and originally appeared as a large-scale public artwork.