Perhaps you’re wondering why you got the sack?

For years now, I’ve not bought our local rag,

not bought the cut and paste of client hacks,

who’d not report on genocide of a nation,

for fear of being murdered on The Strip,  

tell lie on lie, warmongering information,

co-lateral damage? say it’s just a blip,

from Iraq to Gaza, murderous tongues you wag.

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Danger, extremists!

Cry genocide enablers,

Springtime for Hitler.

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Dear Mister Stupidly of Braindead,

that genocide is not in my name;

starving babies to death,

your conscience won’t stain,

so I’m asking you, oh very nicely,

pretty please, will you bugger right off;

we’ll protest against murder,

we’ll protest ‘til it stops,

we’ll protest a lot further,

we’ll protest til the fucking penny has dropped,

we’ll protest a lot louder,

i...

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They claim he died

as act of protest

against the “war”.

Tools of the fascists,

gutter press

they lie and lie

whilst innocents die.

“I will no longer

be complicit

in genocide”,

were his words.

“Free Palestine”

he screamed out

in his agony,

at least three times.

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NB. the penultimate line is a quote from war poet Wilfred Owen's "Futility".

HMS Britannia

some years ago,

began bouncing

along the bottom

of turd-strewn

and poisoned

inland waterways

and shorelines,

she’s scraping

the moral barrel,

going through

its rotten bottom,

into the cesspit,

in which she’s floating,

all with the blessings

of silent cler...

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Rachel touts for votes in Leeds,

but Rachel Gen O’ Cide is fleet,

yes, Rachel and her minder run

from awkward questions on our streets;

that mother’s questions ain’t no fun;

have you had a drink of water?

have you eaten more than crumbs?

Gaza’s children have to dig

for water whilst they’re dodging bombs,

Rachel, do you give a fig?

have you had to dig your daughter

...

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Will you be there in Our Lord’s House

on bended knee on Sunday morn,

good Christians all; will you be there,

a-seeking spiritual comfort from

one silent on a genocide,

who, love and peace will loudly preach,

whose cowardly silence volumes speaks,

th’ Archpastor of you faithful sheep?

Will you cry out for justice now,

or crucify again Our Lord,

side with enablers ...

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Welcome to Britain, madam Ambassador for Genocide;

this carpet’s the latest fashion, Slaughterhouse Red.

Per Ardua ad Astra is how they died,

a diet of porky pies, what they were fed, 

“We will remember them”, cry solemn parrots, 

ad nauseam, per annum, dog-whistled, 

forgetting stick, they much prefer those carrots,

warmongering Lords want us protestors kettled; 

oh yes, ...

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Vent your anger on people in small boats,

on long-haired gorgeous blokes, who like to wear skirts;

forget the yachts sailed by millionaire thieving scrotes,

forget who welcomed to the UK, Nazis and Blackshirts,

facts indeed are sacred, as someone said,

but only facts which the sewer chooses to reveal,

yes, no news is good news, what nearly thirty thousand dead?

targetted jour...

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No, Board of Deputies of British Jews,

you do not speak for her;

neither does the tool-maker’s son,

he does not speak for her;

nor you, Hotovely, you don’t speak for her…

…for that brave Jewish lady with a conscience

whose family died in The Holocaust,

who, in London, engaged in peaceful protest,

was harassed, arrested and detained

for twenty-four hours by a bored-...

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