He’s swapped the royal balcony
For the inside of a cell
He’s given back the Order of St. Olav as well
But while he denies Virginia
To the Thames Valley Police
There will still be no justice
No peace
Air Miles Andy Under Arrest
Category: poetry
Not Listening
He outsourced his outrage at his failing living standards to the racists
Subcontracted his fear about his children’s future years to the transphobes
He offset his anger about a council that won’t try
To a campaign against the RNLI
He’s backing Nigel ‘cause he tells him who to hate, when he’s just trying to get by
He farmed out his frustration at house price inflation to Islamophobes
Delegated his dismay on another budget day to deniers of asylum seekers’ rights
He exported consternation at his pub in liquidation
To roundabout and lamppost decorators
He’s backing Nigel ‘cause he tells him who to hate, and who are traitors
He doesn’t empathise ‘cause he doesn’t understand
He doesn’t understand ‘cause he won’t listen
He won’t listen ‘cause no one’s helped his problems go away
He won’t listen ‘cause hears politicians
Not listening every day
Epstein O’Clock
It’s Epstein o’clock for Mandy
Epstein o’clock for Lord Pete
Epstein o’clock, just like Andy
Soon to live on Used-To-Have-A-Title Street
It’s Epstein o’clock for Petey
Even though he says he didn’t partake
It ain’t much of an entreaty
When you’re selling the secrets of the state
It’s Epstein o’clock for Mandy
Hey, Prince of Darkness, it’s Epstein o’clock
Soon for a bunch of very rich bastards
It’ll be Epstein o’clock
Tick, tock
Rubio, Witkoff and Blair
Rubio, Witkoff and Blair
Like a bad firm of solicitors
Here to handle the paperwork
For Gaza-Lago
On behalf of the Bored of Peace
Arise Sir…Oh, Maybe Not
How warm are your stables?
How bent are your tax affairs?
How pliable your opinion?
How shallow are your cares?
How warm are your stables?
How thick are your lies?
How cheap is your loyalty?
You joined Reform, surprise!
Minneapolis
A poet’s words heard for the first time
Are like something you already knew
A poet should say what needs to be said
A poet should speak it true
A poet should say what you need to hear
And you know she was a poet too
Minneapolis was yet another outrage
But this time she looked like you
Rest In Power, Renee Nicole Good
Waiting For All The Facts
Nick says it’s audacious
We think it’s outrageous
Kier says nothing to do with us
He’s waiting for all the facts
Nick thinks he’s a giant
We think he’s a tyrant
Kier’s remaining silent
He’s waiting for all the facts
Nick thinks that it’s great
We’re both scared and irate
Kier says just wait
He’s waiting for all the facts
Nick says it’s a flex
And it’s Colombia next
Kier says it’s complex
He’s waiting for all the facts
Nick says nothing ‘bout oil
That makes our blood boil
The question would make Sir Kier recoil
He’s waiting for all the facts
Venezuela: Starmer Speaks Out (Oh No He Doesn’t)
Sir Kier sheds no tear for Maduro
For international law is his call
On kidnap, oil and violence
From Sir Kier simply silence
In a statement as weak as it is small
Sir Kier sheds no tear for Venezuela
Of the people, he said nothing at all
Sid Vicious
On a stormy night, I dreamed of Sid Vicious
In the days after the Chelsea Hotel
He said I’m running out of time
And I’ve got a story to tell
Of how he went by Simon or sometimes John
And the things mum had done to get by
He spoke of heroin and homelessness
I let him talk and didn’t reply
But then he said that it was Rotten
Who’d first called him Sid
And Rotten is as Rotten does
But it was Malcolm who decided what they did
He looked tired, but he could tell
That there was something on my mind
He paused and looked straight at me
I said, Sid, I’ve got to ask why
Why, he replied, and I wished I’d not started
But he said, spit it out, kid
Why, I repeated, finally
Why the swastikas, Sid?
He looked at his boots and said, you gotta understand
The Pistols had to be a hit
We needed all the shock that we could muster
To shake them all up a bit
Malcolm was a pervert and we were cartoons
The war was over and the bad guys had lost
We made good telly, you know how it is
No one really counted the cost
And it’s not like we were actually Nazis
Just by sporting the kit
Not even Lemmy, he added
And he really loved that shit
Quite the collection of memorabilia
Uniforms, knives, flags and belts
But Lemmy wasn’t a Nazi
He just thought he was better than everyone else
But I’ll tell you this, his voice was fading
I would never wear one now
It was a bit of punk fun in ‘77
But you’ve just got to look around
We had the NF pantomime fascists
In coopted braces and boots
But never politicians and billionaires
Throwing up Nazi salutes
No, I wouldn’t ever wear one now, Sid said
Because someone will wear it and mean it
Don’t tell me you never watch TV
Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it
I would never wear one now, he said
I would never wear one now
One stormy night, I dreamed of Sid Vicious
Though he was long since dead
It was the days after the Chelsea Hotel
And this is what he said
The Difference Between You And Your Grandad
Your grandad shot at nazis
taxed the rich and built the NHS
You mum fought for equality
and fairness, nonetheless
we sleepwalked into the arms
of bastard billionaires
Now you hang flags from lampposts
and mouth pantomime prayers
Steve White & The Protest Family 