This short lifelong, stayed terrified,
I skimmed my teeth and lost my mind;
The terror created by those outside,
But now I know there’s peace to find.
Leaders atop should pour kind profit,
And better times for people,
Yet my dictators dressed as prophets
And had the strong made feeble.
Those demons dressed as every-day folk,
Surveyed from a yellow soffit;
It’s the innocent who suffer most
On the road from Vectis to Moffat.
Through cataracts of oil they broke,
Dissolving bells in the spire;
Meadows choked, a flame awoke,
And set the forests on fire.
I looked at women in cages kept
By men who beat them for wages;
My eloquence lost to the internet,
Overdosed, I slept through the ages.
Protestors drove to the city,
Berating grey expansions,
When its placards versus tyranny
Suppressors sing in their mansions.
Next they stole my language,
Words once sweet as clover;
My father murdered at Sandwich,
Through Hastings dragged, and Dover.
My kidnapped son, he’d be handsome,
But I’ve not seen him for years;
Monthy I still pay the ransom,
And forget the feeling of tears.
The demons would turn those souls with tongs
Into rolls of garlicked black-pudding,
But should still a seed dispenser bring bird-songs,
I will burst out from my hooding.