Jesters of the Universe

February 13, 2021

The daffodils are punching well above their weight this year

The snow has been exemplary in evidence

Last evening was the coldest we were told for ten long winters

(Thank God, it will be warmer now, till 2031!)

Our vaccine products are world beaters; masterclass

Researchers, make this country power to the fore

The world’s impressive foremost immunisers

Plus track and trace – (this counts; announces brilliant BBC;

Always a global leader in this science century

Bringing to eager beavers comprehensive news

All that one needs to know, though goodness why indeed

We listeners should be told of petty cheap EU

Intolerable reprisals made on us as sheer revenge…

Clearly the EU’s not world-class, perhaps nor never shall

Now that we’ve left it…. only in its spineless lack of sense

Poor proud unspotted Britain, this unhappy breed of men…..

[...and on, and on, and so forth, murmuring leal surrealist views…])

The best, above the rest, stand Albion’s academics

Leicester, world-beaters in those post-colonial vibes

Ring-leader worriers of peculiar histories

Come scratching out the past,

A woeful, beat yourself up, ’cause all’s foregone, curriculum

Making a point to disappoint whatever point one’s making

Disjoint it, and then class it, also schlecht verboten.

Earth-movers surge, are pushing nonsense in the faculties

Top-table own-goal scorers win self-reverential vanity

Spilling all round aloud abounding florid singsong

Clinging to hymn sheets deadbeats twisted to in the seventies

Like chapman fantasists are moved to cry up: “Come away, come buy!”

Their pride’s disguised derisions force dissensions, greatening divides

Denying pasts, by fierce impasse, by faithless fooling

Calumniators of circuses; and yet themselves a circus

Adjudicators of consciences; whose brows would silence God

Iconoclasts of testimony, and yet would fashion facts

Dancers with wolves who feed surmise to social running packs.

Then there’s England’s lorries in their hurries to rush across the water

Getting trussed-up in a world-class parking lot to rust at Dover

Stressed by disgusting tariffs – “foreigners play fair!”:

Always we’re global excellence – are our own best love affair

And government’s a vote well-spent – on ad-lib comedy

Returning back a much off-track attendant tragedy

The foremost and the mother of all (global) parliaments

(Whereby we led the world – into the mess it’s in)

Cannot be matched, no not a despotic patch,

Censorious and nefarious, in its prowling goings on

Under closed wraps; those good-fellows who brought to you

Brexit – maybe are your best friends, perhaps?

Actors, of course, and villainous, switch stilettos hidden

Inside their socks - well practiced in their use to stick a thick

Electorate – whose doom they wooed and wound around and

Lured; made fool desires their downfall

Excellence in subversion of the state, we’ve seen this boom

Lo - only showy curs, the Tory sirs, now hold up silver spoons

Pockets in Cayman Island rackets, get considerations

Or prospects in Eire, somewhat smattering of remunerations

Top of the range strange bedfellows of capital impudence

Slummers with the lotto ticket rabbits; Mammon’s ample givers

Out bounces up a bonus ball - a grab - the Tories have it!

Meanly they clean up on the dreadful pap they published

A people suckered, whimsy-battered, by wide applied pollution

Of reason, adept deception by your propagandist chums

And we are the champions, we, the universal conquerors

Over the earth our magic circulates, aesthetically

There’s the staple business, English football, calls in billions

Of fired up teenage Africans, the hopefuls of the times,

Raises up wannabes of ‘just like mes’ on fragile grounds

That everyone might signify, to play at White Hart Lane

Called by the blurb are those for whom the world goes as you see it

On Google, Facebook, YouTube Fox, RT, and BBC

A cracked refracting lens expounding self-propounding merit -

What the UK vies to be

With a holy commercial corporate sector spirit; dystopi,

Lassoing you lovely people, working voodoo to persuade

By misdirection, leading you into a toy assent,

To go for stature; egregious legerdemain, and surely off the radar

But hunker down, turn yourself round, yes, do yourself

That favour

Turn off the switch, don’t listen, ditch, the clutching poison ivy

That spreads, embeds, as nation’s flavour

Go to your heart, be like the Spartan; brother, sister,

Belong, hold a quiet tongue, as one created on this earth

Make peace with almighty God, and slowly, lowly, down the road

You shall indeed, perceive, receive: accordingly persever

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