Rule by the people.
Depraved by politicians.
People by the rule.

Freedom and justice.
Only if you're one of us, that is.
A shining star.
A beacon of hope.
The truth from afar, now seems like one of tropes.

Weeping willows daughter,
Why do you cry?
What do you mourn
That has fallen
To the soil
And withered?

It is
The immigrants fear
As their child is ripped
From their womb

It is
The child’s blank stare
When they are refused
Education
And forced to be
A wife

Destitution,
Desolation,
Desecration.

These are the tears
Mother Earth cries
For her children.

This is why my grief
Grows

We shall make
A recourse to the gun,
If for election we run
Devoid of ideas,
Sell which we can,
We could hardly win
The heart of a single fan.

Also labelled
"Corrupts,atavists
And narrow nationalists"
They can
Put on us a ban
So that sinks on us
The Sun.

Climbing into
A political ivory tower
Is not for us,
Let us beat
The drum of war
To garner
And to monger to power.
.

Brexit means exit,
Brexit means exit.

It doesn’t mean:
Ignoring the masses who had their say,
Action replaced by incompetence and delay,
Having thirty-nine billion pounds to pay,
Giving our fishing waters away,
Compromising the borders of our precious UK,
Calls to vote again, the Brussels Mafia way,
Hope of a nation reduced to a faltering ray,
Democracy treated as if its had its day.

You promised,
You promised,
To implement what the people decided,
Those promises now watered down,
Refuted and then derided.

But most of all,
But most of all,
Mrs May,
Our vote to Leave,
Was definitely,
Was definitely,
Not a vote to stay!

What would happen
If we read “X over X”
As the calculation
It deserves
Instead of so much
Self-serving banter?
We’d find what goes in what
And in quantities unforeseen
As conversing crowds
Among the qualities:
How about this?
“Mind over matter.”
How much matter is within mind,
What pieces of the world
For ideals left behind—
Perhaps what memories
In nutrients we disregard
And the patchwork politics
Between chocolate and hearts
Of artichoke.
What of “ballots over bullets?”
When blood spells the words
We’ve yet to choke
Down?
How many shots will be fired
Before we like band-aids
To wounds apply?
How much violence endures
Till democracy is blest,
How many protests cut down
Before we can lay down the sword?
What of the adage “brains over brawn?”
The well-known oath of courts and kratocrats
With force harp upon?
The strength which one must possess
To prove intelligence
Proves unattained
Yet so many beatings
Are reasoned as recompense—
What sense must be made of pain
To convince us the path of enlightened men
We must avoid
To stay in line.
Thus, submission over freedom
Is where true freedom stems.