T to U)
Green and pleasant
becomes patriot and traitor.
Civil War, roundhead, cavalier,
Lancastrian and Yorkist.
Families split, blood divided.
We need to find commonality, man.
Step out the door, a lottery ball.
Speculate to accumulate possibilities.
You’re ball rolls by chance not design.
It might be chosen. Who really knows?
If you stay is it same old, same old?
Elect a step out the door into whatever
rain or sun decides to fall. Vote
either way the future will happen.
Try and trust,
(U to V)
Grief rubbishes all but day to day.
All books, tv, newspapers are gust,
here and gone. Close your eyes. Listen.
What does your intuition say?
More control in who goes where,
and why. Who has the control?
What is powerless when whatever
government imposes from above?
Choose what you wear it is either
too little or too much. Choose
where you go depends on how
many chinks in your pocket,
flaps of paper in your wallet,
how much swipe on your card.
G tells me she’s had the results.
Her cancer has appeared again.
Her decision whether they remove her insides, stop it spreading further.
(V to W)
After the vote the grass will still
be cut, borders weeded.
Shops will sell what they can get.
A will battle B over A to Z.
The government will always be in doubt.
Europe will always be pilloried
for sticking it’s nose into our
business, and markets trade
with whomever they want. NHS
continue to be privatised. City
always bets on the roulette economy
desperate to be confident. Green
and pleasant encroached by brick
and tile. Big business find loopholes
and badger politicians for boltholes,
all the while saying they’re your mate,
and can be trusted to pay back
whatever they owe, blag you dry.
Then use your cash for foreign
holidays and no forwarding address.
PS What folk have died of voting?