Money for the rich
With money from the poor
They're gonna keep on taking
Till we don't have any more

Then they’ll call us scrounging *******
& when we feel like ****
They'll make us grovel gratefully
For anything we get

They'll grind & grind & grind us down
& down & down & then
Feed us lies & propaganda
So we'll vote them in again.

In the office
Softly sleeping
Harshly woken
Hearing meetings
Hearing everyone
in meetings
bleating
on&on&on
& while sleeping
I'd been dreaming
& my face
was really beaming
Cos while sleeping
I'd been dreaming
Of a freshly buttered scone

17th June 2017.

Here I write
a wistful thought
about the past,
as if there's a different
thought one could have
about a previous life's desires.

Here I think
about the times
and the places we have been,
and how there's no going back
except in our memories.

Here I wonder
if you're sitting alone
or if you're next to her again
longing for something different
or sobering up at the fact
you'll never get it.