Britain Isn’t Eating

Britain isn’t eating and it isn’t only fleeting:
Stomachs growling in their thousands;
Weakened bodies, trembling hands – and
Anxious minds in free fall – all at the behest
Of IDS, a petty, jumped-up, self-made god,
Complete with hooves, in gold-plate shod,
To trample underfoot the poorest in the land.

It’s hand-to-mouth, from North to South;
From East to West – ‘existence’ best describes
The lives this bastard government can bring
Itself to muster. Britain isn’t eating and it’s
History repeating: clusters of the population,
Forced to choose between one outrage or
Another, quite preventable – starvation or the
Food bank.

And flanking, frozen Esther, gimp-like, grins
On point from sculpted plinth, to demonstrate
Her eager sycophancy for her hornèd clod.
The only thing upstaging either’s arrogance is
Clear delight in spiteful and relentless
Choreography. The topographic cheating means
That Britain isn’t just not eating…

Choice is all-competing: food or heating; dignity
Or vouchers; servitude or prostitution; charity or
Destitution; empty pot or pay-day loan; feed the
Car or feed the phone; school trip or a birthday
Gift; a haircut or a coat that fits…

Every day new low-pay, no-pay victims slip through
Nets with holes that stretch to endless loops and
Proxy scolds with folded arms and vulgar sanctions.
Britain isn’t eating while the poverty’s increasing by
Command of those in power who care little for the
Pointy end of choice – excepting as it serves to feed
The few in Britain who continue eating very well indeed.

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