They will soon take command
of the scattered pill boxes –
those red brick squatters
sat above river crossings –
built for strategic purposes –
and to fool the nescient
of a Maginot Line in England –
to withstand our invasion
There will be working parties
to restore the squat outposts –
drinking tea and sipping gin
as the last of Locarno evaporates
The new guard will take to parades
under friendly church hall beams –
taught to guide the landing parties
into concentration camps in Kent –
and you will shift the weight of anger
by reposting others’ indignant shouts
from your padded cell of social media –
which is how all of this begins
It is too easy to hate,
to speak in screams,
to find all solutions
in final extremes;
the volume racked up
in your echo chamber,
knowing your hatred
Too many such rooms,
with men pushing in,
these are the places
where the end begins.
[Published here on The Dangerous Globe]
[Apologies to Oscar Hammerstein II, none to Katie Hopkins]
How do you mute a problem like Katie?
How do you catch a cow and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Katie?
A fascist-in-favour, a will-o’-the wisp! A clown!
Many a-thing you know she’d like to tell you,
many a-thing she so mis-understands,
but how do you make her mute,
to listen to what you say,
being sacked is part of her bigger plan:
Oh, how do you solve a problem like Katie?
How do you get Hopkins forever banned?
When I hear her I’m confused,
ears bleeding and bemused,
And I know that she doesn’t give a f*cking damn.