Don’t mess; don’t second-guess the People:they have spoken
Don’t test their faith that says your liberal place has had its time
Do not forget your status now, is an arbitrary token
So be a good wee patriot and, quietly, get into line.
Don’t judge them by their words but by their actions
Don’t judge them by their deeds but their intent
Don’t judge them by their hungry, blind and constant angry factions
Do not mistake the rhetoric for what they really meant
Don’t caution, fret or organise to hinder their turn-back designs
Don’t let collective ignorance inhibit your respect
Do not get lost in challenging the means they justify as fine
Don’t be a party pooper; get that Kool-Aid down your neck.
Just as a golem wrecks at its own pace
And self-indulgent power learns to thrive;
There, at ground level Mercy yearns
To drive Humanity upon a wheel of Grace
And Tyranny’s obsessions to displace
Unto Eternity. From lack derives a paranoia
Willed; Fear kept alive by misery as great
As ever faced. Swap Honour for dogmatic
Spin as slick as oil. Give us your lies, your
Metaphors; your huddled, clichéd, empty
Rhetoric; the grasping garbage of your
scheming jaws. Bring on the vague but
Weighted, wordsome tricks and skim
The Truth beyond the darkened shore.
Inspired by ‘The New Colossus’ by American poet Emma Lazarus (1849–87), a sonnet written in 1883. “In 1903, the poem was engraved on a bronze plaque and mounted inside the lower level of the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty”
Blighty writ BIGLY
Engorged and enraged
Spilling forth from the lips
And the hate-filling page
Where it quickens the blood
Of the worried-well age
Churning faith into crud
Turning Will to blind rage
Slinging mud to obscure
To excuse and conflate
All the nonsense it wages
That darkens the State.
The heat of patriotism,
spills outright lies
upon the world;
so sins by symbolism.
to false fealty and,
wrapped in glamour,
under brittle banners
all hot and ready,
set to march against
all sensible expressions
Now come the acts
in missives, sounding
symphonies and sending
hounds of hardware,
bringing down offending
hearts and minds
until the Fatherland is primed.
Ourselves, who art in flux,
Hollow be our game.
Our kingdom come.
Our will be done
In circuses as we are given.
Give us each day our daily threads.
And forgive us our tweets
As we forgive those who tweet against us.
And lead us not into correlation
But deliver us from weevils;
For ours is the kingdumb,
The sour and the poorly,