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poetry

• 29/3/2009 - Would you like your son to grow up in England.

Well, no. In England pestering seems to be endemic, whether your child goes to a public school or a state school. In a state school, he'd be mixing with rowdy kids from alcoholic families. In a public school, he's be trained to be oblivious to his fellowmen suffering. Few countries display what is rampant in the UK: the tolerance of the general public to severe economic hardship in their immediate environment. English policymakers do not get weak hearted when seeing dreary neighbourhoods or even slums, whereas in the rest of Europe even the most conservative politician pays at least lip service to the cause of the poor. Despite overflow in the penitentiary system, the streets are unsafe and bullies carrying knives terrorize the weak and helpless. Why then do I still like England so much?
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• 17/3/2009 - England used to be cool

I used to like you, England

 

I used to like you, England,

But, with Kent taken by the Newlands

And an entrance forced by France

King Alcohol reigning over closing times

Ladies and Gentlemen, last orders please!

Your so-named humanoids with glazed look

Take to the streets in robotic lines

As dew escapes from withered meadows

The brooks, once twinkling go their tired flow

Lead and aluminium they carry to the sea

As seagulls and crows are having a go

At the rotting corpse of humanity

Every cottage now a brothel

Bored housewives feeding on adultery

Adults childish, and their children play

Cowboys and Indians with machine guns

Now with pesticides and mad cows disease

Brambles shorn in hurried food production

Eternal beauty still I see

In flowers on your cemetery.

 

Hotel Amsterdam, March 30,  1998

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