I’m a punk, cosplay rule Britannia / sugar water hair and saltwater manner / rusty penny farthing with a broken wicker pannier / waving a dustbin lid and spanner / exhausted from fronting / all the laws the government’s corrupting / till I’m dragged from the saddle and tied up with bunting / to a stake at the heart of the midsummer fete / by mad morris dancers who just can’t wait / raging and chanting and dancing round the square / shaking their bells and bladders in the air / as the faggots snap and the straw bales flare / and I wave to the public up in the stands / shouting Come on in, the bonfire’s grand!
A tisket, a Tasket / question? don’t ask it / it puts the lotion in the basket / while we sit with our popcorn and gobble up the shocks / Brad’s gun shaking saying what’s in the box / Gwyneth and her Goopy locks / who kissed a frog and got monkeypox / a bunch of daffs and a box of chocs / this stuff rocks / so just breathe and allow it / maybe like me you can’t live without it / and if not – shrug – it’s finished, over / no credits, refunds, definitely no closure / guilty of underperforming and overexposure / good – that’ll show him / that’s what you get for writing a poem
But hey! Donald J Trump is back on the scene! / introducing a beauty queen / with a message of peace and an AR15 / but he goes off cue / straightens his wig and speaks directly to you / what the fuck does he want us to do? / go home, we love you, you’re very special / but first take your clothes off, I wanna see ya wrestle / shrug – it’s just another monster we made / from recycled films and gatorade / we’re a sucker for stunts and a big parade / it’s a simple question of economics / a firm handshake and flag semiotics / media optics / liberal neurotics / shut up and finish the antibiotics
Relax! / I saw on Twitter Jesus is back / delayed off the plane by an attack of the snacks / picking up socks and a script for Xanax / but once he’s got his sandals straight / and finally made it through the gate / he’ll jump in a taxi and I can’t wait / to see him give his sermon on the mount / on TikTok or wherever the fuck this shit comes out / ‘cos the cattle are lowing, the baby awakes / and they’re about to storm the stable with whatever it takes
I’m buffering on the edge of disaster / a glass of warm water and a sticking plaster / fearing the end but wanting it faster / while Dorothy smiles and sings Somewhere Over the Rainbow / which is sweet and all but I just don’t know / as fantasy destinations go / there aren’t many deals out of Gatwick or Heathrow / meanwhile / I’m slumped in the chair a prisoner of freestyle / spiritually flat, poetically senile / pen as in penile / drooling while the mice are playing / and whilst I love the optimism they’re displaying / all I’m saying / is just supposing / the exits aren’t opening but slowly closing / and the cat’s not sleeping but only dozing