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,
somehow 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.