The Royal Yacht is back on the table,
We must turn Phillip into a fable,
Two hundred million, cheap at the price,
So say the royalists, quick, in a trice.
Will Yum and Katie sail off on a cruise
Back here the homeless continue to lose,
Privileged sunseekers don’t float my boat.
One thousand houses? Now that gets my vote.
They don’t need a state room to cross the pond,
Obscene luxury now one step beyond.
Don’t cry out envy, enough is enough,
They already have way far too much stuff.
I won’t wave them off, no quayside wonder,
For fuck sake let’s not give them more plunder.

Harry Rogers, In The Red Bedroom, 2nd May 2021.

I heard some guy on the radio say
The amount of money needed to solve,
Food hunger across the whole world today
Is equivalent to twenty six hours
Of all military expenditure.

Twenty six hours of peace,
All it takes to feed the poor
Is this really all it takes?
Why ain’t we done it before?

Military industrial money
Maintains the global status quo of war,
Scientists, engineers, death designers,
Bring sophisticated bombs to market,
It’s an entrepreneurial bloodbath.

Let’s transfer our resources,
From sociopathology
Where human lives count for nought,
To social ecology.

Centre left luvies argue for armies,
As they pose laughing in theatres of war,
Sleeves rolled up with squaddies, rifles in hand,
Happy to reveal themselves on the news,
Spent uranium shells litter the land.

Millions die in terror,
Hungry, sick, and exploited,
Collateralised masses,
All for the sake of profit.

Food not guns,
Food not bombs,
Food not drones,
Food not war.

Harry Rogers, In The Yellow Room, 3rd May 2021