From the cabinet room
Lord Salisbury used the
fireplace as a tool meaning
soot would be cleaned a broom
made of birch and twigs,
an unusual and ingenious way of dealing
with smoke as oath of credit
or malice by the door
of a friendlier peace term
more opulent than your
escargot in English,
bid this a courtesy title
radically simplified paltry,
‘hopefully’ fertile and abject drudges
shaped in duck pate to the
golden fool for 140 hours
a week suckered at ‘very’ ‘due’ to
‘ongoing’ ‘equal’ ‘yourself’ ‘unacceptable’
and ‘no longer fit for purpose’
though it blew
back the wain of day into
the 18th century safeguarding
of their brood
shine the dumb men as thy
throng directly below the knight
and above the gentlemen,
clinker in pay point spine
dry-beat gamma-ray
photons, can eject eligible children
whipped at the crofts every morning
out like a chain of legally
entrenched Red Teams
incentivised to overcome
a little speck like you
climbing back into the
soil you came from,
nodding off with carillons again to
see new possibilities
of jesting o bleach
empery the vine leaves with
gilded haw peat
the front door from our blood or a
substance that looks like it
does not mark you out
from love of the archaic
charm they should know
and remember devices prow
of this shore as stranded, even now
more barren more austere
to crown his rod and say
a key to all the chiding
of pain eyes which never
rise survey look
out upon this mulch and pray
a little less lawful than your
kind is going down into the
fly ash, lime and bentonite
while Jeff Bezos
is explicitly trying to revive the
Mueller vision and
Britain should be helping him
do it much, much faster!
