Moving On

 

Look out for your own

She said,

Charity begins at home.

I felt speechless by her

Mighty years, sure that

In ignorance she lived,

The lipstick still remained

From rule Britannia’s

Imperialistic kiss.

 

     I mopped her brow,

But the lipstick wouldn’t

Budge, couldn’t even feign

A smudge; immovable

With its bright red gloss,

A patronising brand from

A patriotic oath.

 

     Send em back she said,

For there aint no black in the

Union jack,- pinching our jobs

And taking our homes, they’re

The problem Britain’s fatalistic

Crimes have rose.

 

I rolled my eyes at the

Nanny-gate years, but felt

The salt of an immigrants tears

For I saw her politics, from the chair

She’d never left for years.

 

How impertinent she be,

With her God Save the Queen

And a Falklands victory.

     The jack expressed by her

Consulted face, knowing all

Along she recites in haste –

A talk by political Powell in hate,

            Homogeneity,

Our very own fascistic race.

 

            As my axe reached for

The double crown, I gave a smile for

She didn’t know, just how small

The world had become,

That young people have

Realized, we all share the same sun.

 

            Listen Ma, for thousands

Of years we have been at war

And for a thousand years we shall

Be in Ice, if we do not greet their

Minds and eyes, if we do

Not share this only ball,

This ball where shaking hands

Saves lives.

 

The beginning has begun,

No more these hearts to be despised

But in open arms our hearts

Be wise, be wise to all we’ve

Lost before, by wars in hate,

We need no more.

 

            Ma, you’ve lived

Through all upon this globe,

Do you want to see it - self destruct?

 

            (A playground of a five year

Old, bares no malice, yet the

Deadground of an adults home,

Be the mind unchallenged).

 

Michael J Waite 5^th February 2009 0158hrs