Thoughts On Our Troubled Times

All Blood Is Red

Immigrants are a blight
Hated with cruel spite
Described with derision
Often sent to prison
But all blood is red

Take your foreigners away
They bring us dismay
And are so unlike us
Differences strike us
But all blood is red

Note that political tactician
Totally without contrition
Who claimed they eat dogs and cats
Stopping just short of rats
But all blood is red

Lies about migrants’ crimes
Distort the news of our times
So aliens steal our careers
And employment is in arrears
But all blood is red

Do you have the intention
Of causing indefinite detention?
Imprisonment without offence
With no avenue of defence?
But all blood is red

Then heed this plaintive ditty
Showing troubled souls need pity
Man is a varied creature
Difference is a feature
But all blood is red

Might Is Right

On A Recent Political Clash

So you want peace
Then you will have to release
All thoughts of fairness
From your awareness
Because might is right

Are you aware of the latest alliance
Involving the compliance
Of two vast powers with each other
Against you, a fragile brother
Because might is right?

Justice might be your aim
In this warlike game
Then you’ll need to absolve the invader
The true guilt pervader
Because might is right

There is such hostile gimmickry
Steeped in bellicose mimicry
Naming as the transgressor
The victim of the aggressor
Because might is right

This according to the sages
Is repeated down the ages
Villainy is superior
While probity is inferior
Because might is right

So watch the villain win
A victory based on sin
As justice is overcome
By the beat of an angry drum
Because might is right

An Address To The Nation

Thank you, I pause
For your applause
You can see it’s true
What I vowed to do
The promised revolution has begun
For our greatest land neath the sun
Loud cheering follows
Echoing in the hollows
From an eager claque*
Acclaiming every remark
And now my lies will begin
Are you ready?
Careful aim, steady
Call government jobs sinecures
Make sacking the best of cures
And label the consequent deficiency
A high form of efficiency
Point two
Adding to what’s not true
Is the trade war
I am working for
And I have to begin it
As there’s money in it
So tariffs will be raised
And my power will be praised
There, that is my introduction
To the rest of my obstruction
Get ready for more fabrication
As I expertly demolish the nation

*Claque: a collection of sycophantic followers hired to give support to a public speaker. A modern French practice drawn from ancient theatre.

The One-eyed King

There he is, the liar
The mobster in king’s attire
The mogul
Whose fans ogle
The demon
Fiasco rests its beam on
The conquistador
Who crucifies the poor
The henchman of the rich
With ambition at fever pitch
The mindless rogue
Whose passion is in vogue
Notice his schemes
That put to death dreams:
Fight with all your might
Ignoring what is right
Make aliens your foes
Destroy them with cruel blows
Abolish careers in your way
To make your enterprise pay
Invent story after story
That promotes your glory
Seek powerful foreign friends
As loyalty ends
To make crimes worth more
Cunningly bend the law
That’s it then; life’s a rage
In this so called prosperous age
No! Please reject those winners
And name the sinners
Then speak up boldly and raise your voice
Only then will your third estate rejoice

The Unhinged Wrecker

On so-called efficiency

Look at him
So confident, so grim
Wreaking havoc with impunity
Because he’s got immunity
From a frangible god-like Thor
Who hides what he’s doing this for
What then is their plan
Pursued with such elan?
Why it’s control and power
For a boss in a tower
What then is he doing
This wrecker who’s not ruing?
Why crucifying kindness
With outrageous blindness
By ending helping-hand careers
Thus giving rise to tears
Turning the globe
Into a Scrooge-like strobe
Pulsating through the night
Without respite
Gone is the aid to the needy
Replaced by schemes for the greedy
Children’s lives will be ended
When this support is suspended
Old folks and the ill
Will be further grist for this mill
Ah me! Relief given
Is pain riven
So bells must not chime
To pay homage to this crime

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