“Get on with it!” say Brexiteers,
That phrase, gravel in my ears,
As one more factory shuts up shop
A few more thousand lose their jobs
Amid the lies that they would prosper
If immigration disappears,
The truth is there, but they don’t hear
As we tie ourselves up in knots
“Get on with it!”
They say; our nation’s auctioneers,
But the way ahead is not clear
Except that we'll all be worse off
And more of us won’t have enough;
Revisiting depression years,
Get on with it?
“Get on with it!” the endless round,
As government debates confound
Both the best and the worst of us
On every side of this circus,
As leaders’ arrogance astounds,
Our creaking democracy found
Cold, abused, hungry, gagged and bound,
The response offered by leavers:
“Get on with it”
The majority lost not found
In archaic schemes, rules for clowns
That sway countries and media,
Though eyes are now on Westminster
It’s corporations that are crowned
Get on with it?
“Get on with it!” say Brexiteers,
But no workable deal appears,
Meanwhile, vital services rot,
People, made homeless, later robbed
Of any chance of a future
As we betray our teenagers
Steal children’s potential careers
And up the climate chaos odds.
“Get on with it!”
Say those scared, yet still unaware
They’re selling our protections off,
Imperfect though they were, to bluff
Self-governance that never was,
Nebulous words as deadlines near,
“Get on with it!”
“Get on with it”, get on with what?
With the Brexit of the lynch mob
Or the one that mimics Norway?
The ‘hurry-up’ crowd never say
Though they are so rarely quiet,
There is no wand to whisk away
The social ills of the U.K,
Or falsely recalled yesterdays,
Brexiteers scapegoated Europe,
Get on with it?
Get on with what? National decay?
Alienating minorities?
We've no constitution to cope
With destitution beyond scope
Of those four words of mockery:
"Get on with it!"
Not "How?" or, ever, "What comes after?"
Nor "What is it?" "What's wrong with it?"
Not, it seems, "What's wrong with us?"
Never "What's stopping this?"
No truth in Brexit
For Brexiteers;
No real plans
At all;
None.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch