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’s Island

Everybody knew, everyone could see
If you were on that island
There was no secrecy
But money buys immunity
Money buys impunity
Money buys redaction
Money buys distraction
Satisfaction of your vilest desires
There will always be suppliers
And all this one requires
As he conspires with your weakness
Is your secrets
Is your meekness
Is your trust me, love me
My best friend Jeffrey
Supplier of debauchery
And girls in the minority
Offered for free
Or offered for a fee
Paid in insider dealing
Pain in inner circle feeling
Paid in the squealing
Blood congealing
Ceiling of society
Where money makes the world go round
Money brings hers tumbling down
Money gives the prince a crown
Money makes the law rebound
Money runs the truth aground
Money makes it all allowed
Money draws the party crowd
Take the grist that’s on the list
And burn it to the ground

I’m on my way to Epstein’s Island
I ain’t on the Lolita Express
I’ve got a can of petrol and a box of matches
And I’m gonna make a mess

When it’s burned to the ground
We can put a fence around
And put everyone on Jeffrey’s list
There to subsist
They won’t be missed

Then we’ll go to Mar-a-Lago
And throw open the doors
Free golf for all the people
Melania giving guided tours

We can shit on golden thrones
Make calls on golden phones
The gold shit that he owns
Now in occupied golden homes

Then SpaceX what the heck
Let’s all go to Mars
When we get back we can all go wild
In battery-operated cars

I’m on my way to Epstein’s Island
I ain’t on the Lolita Express
I’ve got a can of petrol and a box of matches
And I’m gonna make a mess

When it’s burned to the ground
We can put a fence around
And put everyone on Jeffrey’s list
There to subsist
They won’t be missed

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

I Ain’t Mad At You

“That’s fine, dude
I ain’t mad at you”
So he thought he’d treat her to
A bullet or two
Maybe the third one killed her
When they denied her medical help
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

They pepper sprayed him
But it wasn’t enough
For trigger happy agents
High on acting tough
His last words “Are you okay”
To the woman that he helped
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

Smart uniforms, microphones
And blatant lies
Middle class protesters
Threatened agent’s lives
The world watched in horror
At what could’ve been themselves
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

When the price you pay for freedom
Is a classroom of dead children
Your second amendment rights
Viewed through iron sights
The way you see yourself
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

Minnesota So Cold

Oh Lord, so cold, Minnesota
Oh Lord, so cold, Minnesota
Oh Lord, so cold, Minnesota
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

These streets, oh Lord, where George was killed
These streets, oh Lord, still feel the chill
These streets, oh Lord, where George was killed
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

These streets, oh Lord, where he shot Renée Good
These streets, oh Lord, just because he could
These streets, oh Lord, where he shot Renée Good
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

These streets, oh Lord, where they gunned Alex down
These streets, oh Lord, shot him on the ground
These streets, oh Lord, where they gunned Alex down
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

The sun’s gonna shine on Minnesota, oh Lord
The sun’s gonna shine on Minnesota, oh Lord
The sun’s gonna shine on Minnesota, oh Lord
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

Rosa Plays Monopoly

When Rosa plays monopoly
She can never afford property
She collects two hundred pounds
And gives it to landlords when she goes round

When she lands on the railway
Rosa always pays her way
Monopoly is hard
When someone else has all the cards

When Rosa plays monopoly
She can never afford property
She collects two hundred pounds
And gives it to landlords when she goes round

She pays for utilities too
Just like she’s supposed to do
They’re owned by the bourgeoisie
But at least the parking’s free

When Rosa plays monopoly
She can never afford property
She collects two hundred pounds
And gives it to landlords when she goes round

Chance and community chest
Rosa tries her best
But the game’s designed for her to fail
And she always ends up in jail…

But soon the jail was full of folk
Who’d gone around ‘til they were broke
She said this game’s not fair
How come we never get a share

What if we owned all the stations
There’d be no conversations
About who owes and who’s in chains
We could all just ride the trains

They started to applaud her
She said the electric and the water
This game is awful let’s all revise it
Let’s just nationalise it…

They broke out of jail, marched on Whitehall
Pall Mall was the first to fall
Northumberland Avenue, Bow Street too
The Strand soon came into view

Fleet Street, Trafalgar Square
Piccadilly, almost there
Regent Street, Park Lane
They took Mayfair and finished the game

Now Rosa plays Monopoly
Lands on common-held property
She goes around
And keeps the two hundred pounds

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