Pack Light

Go to come back.
Again and again,
through the Gates.
Pack light:
the weight of Conscience
is limitless.

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Brexit Park and Ride

Mockumentary
Just got real
In parallel feels
The faithful sides
Take park and ride
Raise monuments
To the far out right
And the left behind

In the unthink tank
All the windows stream
Insidious steam
Can’t see where they’re going
Only where they’ve been

Where jump the shark
Is a tie that binds
The hungry heart
With a flaccid mind
Where infotainment
Is a civic blind
And a cold hard truth
Is a hot rewind

The Brexit bus
Is a dream mis-sold
To fools who believe
There’s a road of gold
And, as foretold,
Has nothing to do with
Taking back control
As the bus careers
Through its own manholes

Dear Brexits

Dear Brexits,

I am not talking our country down. You voted to leave. That decision is actively bringing our country down. I am merely observing, reporting and commenting on the myriad dismal consequences of your “will”.

No Brexit is better than a bad Brexit and there is no Brexit that is good.

If this was not sufficiently evident, to you, before the referendum, whether because you were tricked or just did not bother inform yourself, it bloody well should be plenty evident, by now. It is not my fault that you either cannot see or will not admit this.

I love our country and you have endangered her. It is a poor patriotism that would seek to demand my silence.

Regards

Jacob Rees-Mogg

Jacob Rees-Mogg
Proper Nanny-posh
Fiat eccentric
Rudimentary Tory tosh

Clueless windsock
Neocon rising
Into popular despot
Of inadequate pricing

He’s the cloying shadow fog
Of the quid pro nada
MoggMentum ad portas
To his alma martyr

He’s a Brexit Pollyanna
Always ultra polite
Bangs the patriotic hammer
Of his god and his Right

Augmented by faith
In his Latinate gob
Puts vicarious blame
On a bigoted god

With a silk hogwash
And the charm of a cilice

See him handing out the crosses
For his god of decrease

He’s the Passion police

Non sequitur ad ignorantum
Honi soit qui you like
But don’t think public office
Is a suitable site

Your antiquated affectations
Are exceedingly trite
And your unicorn worldview
Is a plasticised blight
Your opinion of the People
Is pompous in its spite
And Jacob, your ad hominem
Of god is pure shite.

Mon Dieu! amirite?

 

“He is also real”

Obviously, he can believe what he wants and his freedom of speech, I would not seek to take away. Nonetheless, I am horrified that he is so popular with voters and that his popularity within the Conservative Party could give him access to real power.

Oh, snowflake

Oh, snowflake, how unique your delicate heart
That glistens in communal blizzards
Of parched intellect

Whose crystalline shards
And feathered spaces
Shape imperfect synecdoches

And bring your frozen deserts
Into sharp relief against the dust
Of desiccated humours

And confusion of
Unfathomable hatred, until
All is powder; like and like

Steal nuance and lay waste
To inconvenient subtleties
On platforms, uniform, attend,

As granular as common sand
And no one is that special
In the end.