(With apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I met a punter from the Lamb and Flag
who said “a vast and legless crowd of men
are brawling outside Tesco’s, and some wag –
whose sunken eyes and blotchy, mottled chin
and bloated belly wobbling with beer
spoke more than any words about the waste
which mithers on, draining both life and cheer
from everyone – stopped me and, purple-faced,
screwed up his features, and spat out these words:
‘I’m white and proud and this is our country!
Fuck off – we got our Sovereignty. You lost!’
There’s nothing more to life, in his bleak day,
of booze. Meanwhile, begrudging and bereft,
The boarded-up shop fronts stretch down the way.
In Surreal Time 