Thirteen Ways Of Looking At A Brexitbird

(1)

In a gusty sea of a million news reports

The only thing we can smell

Is the shit of the Brexitbird.

 

 

(2)

I was given two choices:

Hail the Brexitbird

Or be nailed to a cross

Alongside a variety

Of other denominations.

 

 

(3)

The Brexitbird preened itself

Like a brooding Hollywood actor.

Some thought it was tragedy.

Others thought it was farce.

 

 

(4)

A family is a family

Until it discusses

The Brexitbird.

 

 

(5)

I do not know who to believe.

Those who say the Brexitbird

Is a painting by Caravaggio.

Or those who say it is

A piece of conceptual art

Of limited value.

 

 

(6)

A million people marched

Against the Brexitbird.

The Brexitbird looked down from its high perch

Yawned and flew away.

 

 

(7)

The Brexitbird has corrupted our language.

Instead of day we now say back.

Instead of night we now say stop.

(“Have a nice back.”)

(“Good stop.”)

 

 

(8)

I know the lucid psychology

I once possessed has disappeared.

The Brexitbird kidnapped me and pecked

My brain to mulch.

 

 

(9)

“Tell me”, said an amateur philosopher.

“If the Brexitbird flies away

And is never seen again

Will it still exist ?”

 

 

(10)

What colour is the Brexitbird ?

An admirer says it is red, white and blue.

A detractor says it is dish water grey.

A child says it is the colour of tears.

 

 

(11)

A well-to-do man

Walked in to a bar and bought everyone a drink.

“I am the Brexitbird” he said.

Some people believed him.

 

 

(12)

The world is quiet.

The Brexitbird must be

Up to something.

 

 

(13)

It was Halloween and the owls were barking.

It was seven in the morning and yet time for bed.

It was the day when boiled beans were served in self construction.

It was the year when the moon disappeared from sight.

 

The Brexitbird sat high in a tree

And enjoyed a hearty lunch.