Inner Circle

A political poem like many others, past and future

Inner Circle

Not to be conflated with the yellow line Tube

Nor even with thematic theatre seating

Dispel from thoughts the square or cube

For avoidance of any mathematician’s bleating!

No, this is the typical political polemic

Of which, in poetry past, much has been spoken

A reaction to facts, statutory or systemic

Though currently obscured by a global pandemic

Our democracy is balefully, brutally broken

 

Let’s speak of King Boris’s inner circle

United, they tell us, ‘round cabinet table

The despicable who despise the moderate Merkel

Who purport to support the strong and stable!

Among these ruffians is the rabid Raab

And the substance-abusing, Gove all-gregarious

And others who, for this text, are far too drab

Or, once out of sight, find any thigh to grab

Whose thoughts and deeds are far too nefarious

 

Participants who may pity that Priti Patel

And others who may wish to ignore her

Some whom her virulent views repel

Or who think great things are before her

Apparent friends of the blond-haired, bombshell bully

Whose only policy is to remain Prime Minister

Who knows how to game the system so fully

Thanks to Cummings – he of the hat so woolly

Who, alongside these sycophants, seems so sinister

 

A collective of repressive, regressive opinions

From belief in Brexit to refugee hanging

And treating all Civil Servants as minions

While their leader bellows boisterous – his blotter banging

They praise his preposterous pursuit of power

As they see his hair, not his waist, grow thinner

Mouthing “Cometh the man, and cometh the hour”

He requires of them, as feigned sweetness turns sour

That they ensure the taxpayer pays for his dinner

That they expatriate the filthy foreign sinner

That the budget be seen as a worldwide winner

As he telephones Trump – the fake news spinner

He indoctrinates the incumbents of his circle inner

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