A Melody So Plain

A Melody So Plain

 

All the young boys and girls wish to share the same sex

and are cocking a snook at The Daily Express.

Each generation’s appalled at the mores of the next

and wonders if to be sick is a sickness.

 

You’ve stood at that mirror and know how it hurts

to squeeze 14 bodies into size 10 shirts.

Kim Kardashian’s arse is how Democracy works

as social media is my witness.

 

Billionaires have become too precious to tax,

from space they pore over Earth’s contours and cracks

while the pimples and moles of the underclass

are retouched or airbrushed out of business.

 

Elections are merely a spectator sport,

greasy little piglets paid for and brought

to The Commons where they can dance and cavort

camouflaging their personal fitness.

 

They manufacture consent just over the bay

where the Arabian nights are hidden away

under lampshades that won’t see the light of day

until the electric bulbs have stopped twitching.

 

All the news that fits is misshapen or faked

to give cover to those who are caught on the take

with arms round a waist and teeth in the cake,

but the evidence always go missing.

 

Let’s forget what we ate at the start of the feast,

now the ransoms are paid and the slaves are released

to the ghetto where black lives matter the least

for there’s plenty of work in the kitchen.

 

The kids are ungrateful, disloyal and cruel

after finding their folks ain’t so smart or so cool.

All that toilet training and finishing school

and we leave them with no pot to piss in.