AG (1963 - / St.Helens, South Lancashire, UK)


You arrive from nowhere, you arrive to serve,
“But do you help us? ”, I say as I observe,
Your rapid climb to your own success,
Yet do you really intend to offer us your best?

I have seen it all before, the endless talk,
Hot air, little more, as I sit and listen,
Tired in my chair,
And on you go, you rant and rave,
Acquiescing on the homeless issues,
Acquiescing on our current state,
On and on like your everyone’s mate,
Yet everything you achieve always
Arrives too late. But then you can shrug
And walk away, to you it’s merely another
Day. Back towards your waiting Merc,
Back towards the waiting, token wife,
Back towards your warm, safe life.

Poverty rises, jobs are dying,
As in immaculate suit, you can
Carry on lying. Yet we can all
See the tangible truth, from
Beyond our slums, beneath
Leaking roof. You are smiling
Mendacity, you exist to lie,
As yet another feminine dawns
And millions more die.

I often wonder what’s the point?
I often wonder why we continue
To appoint,
These charlatan peers, that are so
Unlike us, so unlike the realities
We face. But they still get in, they
Still succeed, well paid in their terms,
As financially they bleed, this country
To death; they’d take its final breath,
Then get kicked out when nothing is left.

Labour, Lib-Dem, or boring Tory,
Doesn’t matter whom, all out
For their own glory.
As things get bleaker,
And prices rise, petrol up another
4p, oh what a surprise!
Yet all we see is them living it up,
As we all get angry – clearly had enough.
But they don’t care; for they are secure,
Their futures assured, can we take more?
And for the camera lens they smile,
The headlines scream! Tory and a Hooker,
How totally obscene. And some are abrupt,
When exposed as corrupt, as cash transfers
Into hands, for awards and knighthoods,
Oh now I truly understand,
What has now become of our once great land.

by Amy Gerrard

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