I Could Rage

(You can hear this read here)

 

I could rage,

I should – would -

if only it meant a thing.

 

Cuts, cuts, the shaming of sluts,

black-and-white, no ifs-or-buts.

 

The magnets are polarised,

can someone shift them?

Find an attraction?

Instead of this repulsive

division, this subtraction

from the sum of us all.

 

No free school dinners,

that tells us, doesn’t it?

Remember

there is no such thing

as a free lunch -

if you call it that,

you can afford it.

 

But no:

you hate me

as I hate you

as we hate

all together,

Goo Goo Ga Jew.

 

I see blackshirts

under every union flag:

you see paradise vests

under every hoodie

and there is no

united kingdom,

not even a clue

about how

to stay together.

 

And meanwhile

in Westminster

the pilleus

is the headgear

of choice.

 

Cunts! Cunts! The banning of hunts

frivoulous stuff and endless stunts,

 

as children starve -

pockets full of

school “lunch” seconds -

on their way home

to cornflakes for tea.

 

I could rage,

but what for?