Mice dance around May poll whilst cat’s away. Multi coloured ribbons flutter in breeze, Tangled inexplicably as they play Games with democracy stuck on its knees. Cat loses track of lives in Gujarat, Garlanded he strikes billion pound deal, Eases visa rules, such a clever cat. Gambols fast and loose. How does Kashmir feel? Lives vanish, is it seven, eight or nine? Embrace another bloody autocrat, Drink deep of diplomatic casks of wine, Lives run out for this most reckless of cats. No silver spoon helps him in New Delhi, Cheshire like fades as mice invade telly.
Harry Rogers, in The Red Bedroom, April 21st 2022.
One thousand bumptious, roller coaster, days In the Westminster fun palace theme park. Milestones lie scattered across all benches Where terminology has never been Quite so inexact as it is today. Gates are left open for party goers To gaily wander through willy nilly, Laughing smirkily at legality, All the while spewing fake apologies For taking electorate for granted. Only when polling stations close in May Will the circus select new ringmaster. We’ll bid farewell to this classical clown, As his short lived reign comes tumbling down.
When did morality go up in flames? How did desperate liars seize power? Did you hear the town hall clock strike thirteen? What can be done about such lunar tricks, Played constantly on our weak, damaged, minds? Slogans writ large across red tour buses, Lapped up by poor austerity victims, Trashed by the reality of brexit. Instead of health services delivered, Shining brightly, in new Jerusalem, Find crumpled expectations blown away, Cast to winds in preparation for sale To rabid yankee scum tax evaders. Pandemic rages but our eyes avert, Past daily dose of military porn, Towards flash Gov dot com advertisements, For new multi billion pound process. Send asylum seeking single young men To camp Rwanda for resettlement. Grant one way tickets to oblivion, All for the sake of taking back control. Anybody who protests too loudly Portrayed as enemies of the people. Whither guardians of media truth? Have all bastions of legality Been overwhelmed by coked up uber spads? We now live in universe beyond sleaze, Beyond greed, beyond even perfidy. Westminster become Pandemonium, Capital of sociopath reigned hell, Ever more desperate to hang onto Their increasingly sick power bases. Daily mainstream media flood airways With militaristic jingoism, War films or nature documentaries, The news, game shows, quizes, soap operas, Everywhere one looks it becomes clear, World Wars One and Two have never ended. Soon Brexit bunting will limply flutter Over crass blitz spirited street parties. It is very hard to gage numbers of People able to concentrate enough As we move further into penury. Tell me again how we got to this place? How brilliant to sell off Channel Four, Close down all those who hold executive To account. War is love, and greed is good. When is the next general election?
Harry Rogers, in the Yellow Room, April 15th 2022.
Gushily mouthing obscene expletives That demonstrate a complete lack of soul Our home secretary defies logic. Spends time on emisseration projects Designed to assuage her back bench ghouls. Her latest frustrated apology When questioned about visas for refugees Fleeing war attrocities in Ukraine, Generates more questions than it answers. Doesn’t she know what a refugee is? These people whose whole lives are now destroyed, Need shelter, sustenance and instant love. Surely visas can be issued home here? What kind of country are we living in?
Our lives, governed by twin parentheses Which run side by side and drive us all mad, Are attacked daily by propaganda. Truth lies inconveniently hidden Behind shaky Chinese walls, constructed To ensure that people never find out What, exactly, actually happened. Technology, too sophisticated To understand, bamboozles most of us Into acceptance of daily hubris, Pumped out continuously on platforms Owned or controlled by power obsessives. Our minds, twisted through pandemic and war, Are moulded as putty by demagogues.
And now we cannot pay our heating bills….
Harry Rogers, In The Yellow Room, April 5th, 2022.
I was born in 1947 A full two years after second world war Ended in victory against Nazis. For every year of my long long life There’s been war waged somewhere on this planet, Families destroyed, houses blown to bits, But what lies behind this ongoing shite? Why do politicians from every “Free democracy” rock up at arms fairs? Dead keen to enable Arms companies To maximise sales of deadly weapons? It’s because war is very lucrative, The sheer volume of taxpayers money Directly transferred into shareholders Bank accounts annually is mind-blowing. This legal money laundering machine Maintains a murderous global elite, Who thrive on misery, death, destruction, Sickness, paranoia, fear and power. Nothing more or less than a mafia Sustained by democratic illusion. Factories employ millions in the Production of mass destruction weapons On every continent across the world. This sociopathic scam masquerades As necessary to keep us secure. In reality it’s gangsterism And we are being robbed of better lives.