Posts Tagged ‘Satire’

So our council of folly,
The hollow authority of our isle,
Open their mouths wide again for our daily rice,
Drenched in the sweat of labourers and nurses,
Taken as if it is their sacred right,
Our gratitude for their incompetence,

This old island is sick,
A blue scourge holds dominion,
Riddled with deaf worm-like things in suits,
With brown envelopes enveloped into their forms,
Finances put to foolish and wanton projects,
Folks held to ransom by foul ferrymen,

We weep at the tax office and county hall,
But those councilmen run out the back door cackling,
If the white cliffs begin to crumble,
And the foundations of our island splinter,
Will they still accept our sweat as thanks?

I’ve had enough,
Bile rises in my gullet,
Sick of the false prayers,
Golden cathedrals looming over the serfs,
A mistaken license to look down on others,
All began by him,

Weary of a so-called god,
Held aloft by old gothic spires,
Who is either evil behind a facade,
Offhandedly unwilling,
Or incapable of saving his so-called children,
So wrathful my hands grip his ivory throat,

Lightning licks at my arms,
But I persevere,
No more sermons,
Angelic flames scald my hands,
But they hold fast,
No more decrees,

My hands do not let go,
Until the divine lights leave his eyes,
And his religious larynx is crushed,
The angels and cherubs shriek in lamentation,
And fade into nothingness,
People can hear humanity once again,

We are our own gods now.

The scales of the judiciary are straining,
Sob stories and crocodile tears can tip them,
Lenient justice.

A nameless man kills many innocents,
But he has a wife and children,
Lenient justice.

An addict slits a barflys throat,
But she has a diseased mind,
Lenient justice.

A young bandit beats and robs an old crone,
But he has no home,
Lenient justice.

A cackling clown takes children away in his van,
But he is from a far away place,
Lenient justice.

A husband beats his wife to the edge of dying,
But he has friends in high places,
Lenient justice.

Lenient justice is the order of the day,
Criminals drink to their crimes,
While victims lament in their anguish,
The scales have tipped.

Justice

Sing thy songs of joy,
Even as poverty rears its ugly head,
Sing thy canticles of generosity,
Even as the stricken grieve for their dead,
Sing thy hymns of justice,
Even as monsters bathe in red.

Turn a blind eye,
And sing thy songs of praise,
Ignore the cries,
And sing thy songs of praise,
Turn your nose up,
And sing thy songs of praise,
Distrust thy neighbor,
And sing thy songs of lies.

Join your choir,
Bigots and zealots,
Hypocrites and liars,
Faithful and pure sheep,
Sing thy songs of praise,
And follow your good shepherd,
Even if he too may be lost.

SOP

There is a criminal in the city,
A dreaded master thief,
Not afraid to hunt in the daylight,
Clad in black,
And with a scarlet cloth around his neck,
He creeps in brand new brogues.

Hunting house to house,
Man or woman,
Rich or poor,
Young or venerable,
Homeless or sheltered,
He cares not,
For he views all wealth as his own.

Payslips,
Bank accounts,
Wallets,
Hidden stashes,
They all belong to him,
For he is the master thief,
He owns the bank.

Masterthief