Fuck That.

Today’s the day we get what we deserve;
the day we realise it might just be too late
to change the world. When Bastards sit
in ivory towers and spout their shit.
When white men tell black women to ‘go back’,
without a smattering of irony. Well, fuck that.

Today’s the day we chuck the towel in.
When we realise what we had before
is ten times better than what just might
be about to enter Number 10’s front door.
When our bezzie USA, turns its back,
tells Blighty to ‘go away’. Fuck that.

So don’t give me Insta-poetry, photos
of a world of sunrises and seashores.
Don’t give me platitudes, inspiring quotes
written in gel pen on flowery scented notes.
I don’t want verse that looks
like it was made up by someone’s Aunty Doris,
I want something that starts with
‘Fuck you, Donald’ and ends with ‘Fuck off, Boris!.

Today is not the day for Maya Angelou,
we’re too far gone for that, I don’t want
‘inspiration’, it makes me roll my eyes,
and we’re too far down for ‘still I rise’.
Time to write a bit of anger, a bit of grump,
to let the Patriarchy know we’re all pissed off,
we’ve had enough of white men, we’ve
had it up to here with Trump.

Today’s the day we realise we’re screwed,
when another spoiled fuck-face mummy’s-boy buffoon
gets what he wants. When the world is being run
by Public school-boy tossers in fucking baseball caps.

Fucking base-ball caps!
Fuck that.



Gill Lambert
Illustration Nick Victor


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