Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dave Robertson Feb 2022
I seem to have missed the lesson,
or maybe it was a paid seminar,
where being a ******* to folk not like you
is seen as cool

A staggering self-belief, or indoctrination
into a way of thinking that excludes
the workers, powerhouses, batteries,
seems insane in a way
that only limited lineages
seem genetically capable of

But now I’m stooping, so I’ll stop

Let’s all stop
being in thrall to noisy *******,
rugger-buggers who had charmed and broken youths,
who knew no hunger except in minds
and no kindness except paid for

I would feel pity, but these bred monsters
are parasitic,
so to let them survive,
******* and spouting lies,
kills us all in the end.

Britannia rules these waves
Dave Robertson Jun 2021
Selecting the truth is easy:
pick the bits that make you seem great
and breeze them past ears
that have no time or desire to wait
for the imminent clatter of ****,
the torrent of bitter feces
that sticks
as all the parts suppressed spew forth

#politics #ukpolitics #lies #disingenuous
Lewis Wyn Davies Sep 2020
The kind of day that urges you to observe.
Learn what time-kissed Victorian bricks exist,
drink and reminisce above the high street.

Soar for a while, before hooked back to ground.
Our Member of Parliament is storming down
that beloved stretch of patterned cement.

Stand fully charged, a magnet waiting for contact.
Lenses in my sockets analyse wicked entourage,
while my options flick through a rolodex of responses.

An influx of questions, injustice and inquiries. Like
all those stories stuck in permanent sun dawn,
meaning there's always hope but never warmth.

Polished black shoes now by the ironic news-
agents. I contemplate resorting to expletives
but fear the irrelevance of a rampaging elephant.

Among the fantasy fireworks, my sparkler drowns.
A rebellious town resident repelled without glance.
Reduced to the blue rosette on that expensive lapel.
Poem #17 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'.
Dave Robertson Sep 2020
Quit your childish, mouth breathing,
shirt buttoned up wrong nonsense
and as a grown human
witness the others around you

Sometimes they cook and talk different,
sometimes look and worry too,
but as has been said for centuries
blood is always red
and there are way too many ******

The ones truly coming to take your lives,
your jobs, your holidays,
your houses, cars and sweethearts
speak on TV, Facebook, Twitter and the rags,
demanding you fear the folk
whose hearts and hands are desperate
to protect their kin, like you

In their money nests
the few snooze and giggle at your
wasted weight and misdirected roar

Bring it to bear
Lewis Wyn Davies Sep 2020
I've never once met the devil
Although I've felt his presence
Inside my cavernous skull
After torch extinguished
A couple of licked fingers
Linger in smokey darkness

I've never once met the devil
But I believe I've seen him before
Among dust in the history books
Captured in stills on a film reel
Hollywood crooks misunderstood
The good die when earth is shook

I've never once met the devil
So how will I know I've found him?
Will weapons be pointed?
Will garments be square?
Maybe I'll test the milky waters
See which army drowns me there
Poem #10 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad' assesses evil and darkness in the world. Originally inspired by Nigel Farage.

— The End —