Sunday, 26 April 2015

David Cameron's Pledge

Long-term economic plan
Long-term economic plan
Long-term ergonomic plan
Long-term ergonomic flan
Long firm ergonomic flan
Wrong firm ergonomic flan

The words coming out of my mouth
are meaningless, man

You'd have to be foolish
or blind
to eat our Tory spam!


Besides, how could you
trust a guy who's so shiny
it looks like he's just
swallowed a gram?

More like a key;
not the key to the city
or a key policy.
Just donkey idiocy.

'Cause Bo-Jo gets his mojo
giving blow-J's
to the Daily Maze.

But back on track:
could you stand
another five more years
of an economic plan

that has barely been able to stand?
It's weaker than an Eton elbow-licker
recycled sneaker-wearing
Tory poster feature.

But it's funny:
whatever happened
to the sneakers, the bicycle?
Did you shut them in the shed
when you entered office?

And whatever happened
to those green fingers, Dave?
Did they fall away
like autumn leaves,
with all your brown-nosing?

Mr Cameron,
you can shove your 
long firm ergonomic flan
up your arse.

I'm voting for real change on May 7th.

Monday, 6 April 2015


I'm soon to be a father,
and now the wind seems
to cut through me like a razor.

I will soon have a daughter:
there is no greater fear
or awe in this world
than embracing the aura
of a newborn child.

My hands will shield her
like two great wings,
and I will protect her

because there is no greater commodity
in this world
than innocence,
and hungry jaws savour the taste.

But if tyrants want to prostitute
the innocence of my kin,
they will find a rumbling mountain
in this man.

Come stand puny at my feet,
as this mountain flower
I hold aloft,
open to the light,
hungry for the sun.

Sunday, 5 April 2015

Welcome to the West

Welcome to the West,
all the people here sleep slow
it's a twenty-first century irregular penitentiary,
we're free walking through our self-made creep show.

Come, be a fly on the wall,
drill a hole in the wall,
come join in our fetishist peep show.
You can hide in your flat whilst the walls fill with rats,
and they mate in a smoke-stenched-out meal-hole.

Outside, the world is tearing its flesh,
we all strip at each other, trying to gain what we've lost,
we tear each other apart, the rich eat the poor,
and now we're paying the cost.

There are many stripes here:
you can wear your colours as you see fit.
But don't count on things changing
if you're central-Asian, gay
animal, or have tits.

Welcome to the West,
you're in the front row of a freak show:
it's a twenty-first century irregular penitentiary;
oh, it's a cold, cold place, but we walk on water!
Look closer: we're heading further out into deep snow.