Redacted

As the people remain but distracted
The late spring sunshine is refracted
Through a prism of truth
Any fact too uncouth
Is unfortunately just redacted

If the good bits are wiped by black ink
Still the clear unmistakable stink
Of corruption and greed
In the place of real need
Leave the people not sure what to think

I can tell them: it's that revolution
Is alive for our weak constitution
We cannot rinse the taint
Of a smear rich not faint
If we won't ditch the lady from Luton

Perhaps harsh to pick out just one's guilt
Against all we had better off tilt
It's the system they wail
Fraid to state whence they hail
But there's no doubt the gloom is all built

Even my guy was wise to the take
He learnt well all the ways to forsake
He spent 200 pounds
On a camera, that sounds
Like he took more than his share of cake

So we either get rid or sustain them
Tempting though it may be just to brain them
My vote says kick them out
Even as they may shout
That's it's really unfair so to blame them.

No sidestepping the rout

There’s a strong chance this caucus’s plight
Will end with it fading from sight
No worthwhile vocation
Just glum resignation
Shall stroll them in to that good night

Claiming hard it’s the system that’s broken
With Sugar, their high-profile token
This old school technique
Is, in context, a cheek
When it’s plain that the people have spoken

What they said was resounding and clear
We now no longer want your crew near
We are sick, we are tired
Your grouping is fired
Your leader should move on from here

Still empty vain wishes remain
As the plotters collapse in disdain
They’ll regret they lost spine
They may whinge, they may whine
As the ticker reads Hove - Tory Gain

And then Manchester, Liverpool too
This machine left its chances to rue
From Scotland to Brighton
Last, don’t leave the light on
The map's sharply switching to blue

Yet ‘loyalty’ rumbles the thunder
As he stumbles from blunder to blunder
You were warned - you did nowt
To sidestep the rout
Now civil strife tears you asunder

Bilious tent

So the mood slowly turns to despair
As the loyalists yank at their hair
Into colleagues they bump
Wandering if he'll soon jump
Before being pushed, into thin air...

...spill predictions, wild forecasts and threats
as the bookies refuse to take bets,
on the outcome next week
though the future's sure bleak
for the man who so boosted our debts...

... indeed cash is the cause of his woe
in more ways than the 'feral beasts' know
for too long he supported
a system now thwarted
the resulting collapse quite a blow...

... but those beasts have moved on from that grub
to political scandal and snub
they'll return in due course
and shall scream themselves hoarse
on the mobile from outside the pub ...

... Yet complaining of hacks is no use
like complaining of fat on roast goose
or like whinging at weathers
or sneezing at feathers,
just a life fact, I'm being obtuse...

...so to focus be clear he's now spent
a hell road of goodly intent
but no volume of guile
can now stop the bile
from bursting the seams of his tent.

Spoilt Ballots or The Voter's Lament.

There once was a party to vote for
A party of great moral note, for
12 years it’s imploded
Its wallahs now loaded
Its leader’ll soon grab his coat for…

… the exit, the boozer, the park,
Any place where the mood’s not so dark
So pregnant with rage
Is the tone of the age
That frenzy’s not wide of the mark…

… but as sure as it came it’ll pass
For the party of our working class
As the Tories take charge
Their majority large
They’ll be praying for aid as at mass…

…but what aid can improve on our lot?
With corruption a hideous blot
On the landscape of news
It’s a vivid vile bruise
So we’ll just count the good stuff we’ve got…

…which is 500 people still straight
Keeping silent for safety of late
This is wise in the racket
But plenty will pack it, in
set for tsunamis of hate…

…so there’s plenty for fascists to gloat for
In the absence of much moral note, nor
Is there cause to be cheerful
On the flip, don’t be tearful
Just make up your mind who to vote for.