On (Goat) Skin

No more ‘Great’ pre-fixed
to the Repeal Bill,
no more ‘Great’ in Britain,
it is the richest who will
command this state
as it recoils, reduces,
and they’ll pinch all that’s great,
leaving austerity bruises.

New Broom

She’ll not be swept back
to Downing Street,
her election broom snapped
under the weight;

the Tories will seek
‘a strong and stable’ hand,
to pick up the broom
and lead these lands.

For now she will clean
without the right tools,
whilst Boris and Rudd
agree which of them rules.

The UK untidy,
until the new cleaner sweeps,
austerity to continue
because brooms aren’t cheap.

Two-shot Tories

A table of old Tories
in the Kemptown cafe
plotting the downfall
of your future today:

Grumbling ’bout democracy,
and ‘leftie threats’,
whilst wanking their pensions
on skinny lattes:

The last generation
to enjoy a grand old age,
they’ll spoon all the sugar
and ensure nothing remains.

NHS on Election Day

In Outpatients,
Brighton,
and efficiently
weighed by Julie,
‘blood pressure good’,
then to ECG,
to confirm I am well,

as this country
threatens an ill result,
which will mean
in five years’ time
I will need to pay
a private company,
and shareholders,
for finding me unwell.

#GE2017

There will be a ballot
with outcomes unknown,
but the resulting state
could be one that’ll harm,
it may finally remove
the vestiges of pride
which were the first choice
of the winning side,
that construction of faith,
more real than dead Gods,
off socialist embers
fired after the war.

When you make your mark
it will determine the fate
of the care of your family,
the future price paid.
Each ballot with a cross,
is a kiss for the carers,
a token of love,
for the state which will keep us.
Or leave it, don’t bother,
make a mark for the rich,
and let them get fat
on the illness of kids;
let them turn profits
on dementia, new business,
let them trade shares
in your family’s sickness.

Who the F*ck is Nick Timothy?

Who is Nick Timothy?
Do you give a toss?
He’s the quiet one –
St Theresa’s soft voice.

Almost Deputy PM,
with no vote or mandate,
he’ll re-draw Conservatism,
tracing over the Left;

aided by Fiona,
the Queen of Press Passes,
but Nick wears the boots,
‘cos he likes to kick arses.

[Published here on The Dangerous Globe]

Miracle on Downing Street

St. Theresa knows
what is good for us,
‘Hallelujahs’ you sing,
The Mail prints the chorus.

She cleans the feet
of the blessed rich,
with her giving grip
on their privatised bits:

She’s touched The Trump,
held the hand of ‘God’,
and now she is saying:
‘Come and buy the lot!’

And on Election Day,
perhaps in 2022,
when she’s won again,
against the too few,

you might turn round,
look back on this time,
and regret the miracles
you left behind:

the medicine, the doctors,
the freedom to move,
the care for the elderly,
the schools improved,

the future for kids,
ours without privilege,
the rights we had –
to stand up ‘n still rage.

When the state that blessed us
is sold for ‘our good’,
you’ll have no one to trust,
‘cept St. Theresa’s rich gods.

Kathy

For Kathy.

Kathy spoke for a minute,
it may have been less:
“I’m being serious,
I want you to do

something for us.”

[The most powerful woman, in this reduced state,
rep(lied) through her teeth – not one of them straight.]

I vote for Kathy,
I vote for the traduced.
We’ll remove the ‘Fat Cats’ –
make sure your vote is used.


Original NEWS story here

Amended to ‘Kathy’ 17.05.17 – updated NEWS story here

No Country

You know, no more
war-won rewards,

the demobbed wonder
of victory-fixed asset
(assured recovery):

Hope is broken, redacted,
buffed wards pulled asunder.

Weep for our withdrawn beds,
now priced up, re-numbered.