#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.

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.

It

Remaindered on Amazon, an unread tome,
that Tory horror story: ‘The Manifesto’.

Launched in Yorkshire (for Gothic effect),
a fiction, or future? You The Reader elects:

The monster, the creature, a clown called ‘May’,
rises from the drains to suck young lives away.

From the wrong side of the tracks our hero steps –
Jeremy shouts about the clowning threats.

Deaf to his warnings (of hospitals sucked dry,
of schools destroyed, of the old left to die),

the constituency of Hereabouts sees only May’s grin,
but you, The Reader, are not taken in:

They flock to the clown’s carnival show
(“the last clown lady was very good you know”).

But Reader, you too, will be dragged on your back,
as this horror story becomes a fact.

The Tory Manifesto, a cliffhanger for the kids?
Is this the future? Will they have to live with ‘It’.

 

As featured in ‘The Dangerous Globe’ HERE

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

Cross

I will now deny the rich
their pleasured agenda
by switching off the media

by restoring my memories,
to recall how secure
our future once felt

I make these my choices –

I will stand up for the NHS,
I will support state education,
I will seek dignity for the elderly,
I will not let sickness profit,
and I will respect those with less
because I will never be
the one percent, not us,
the freelancers,
the fireman,
the coppers,
the nurses,
the teachers,
the shop-keepers,
the factory
and the office workers
we,
the unelected,
the kept-at-bay,
the once state-maintained,
the f*cking Hard Working
tax payers

will be screwed, lustrum-long,
by policies born of private pickings,
whelped by Bullingdon boys

and when I wake to them, again,
wearing sneers they call smiles,
with drubbings for the losers,

I’ll know that my cross was counted,
piled, not as high as the winner’s cards,
but, briefly, in that mark, my minority won.