“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
Tag: Rondeau
No Discrimination
There’s no discrimination here,
they’re all on perfect behaviour,
equality sits at their core
as they block someone’s access door
leaving no space for their scooter,
There he is, playing our savior,
marking this moment to savor
as if accepting his reward,
there’s no discrimination,
At least he has stopped looking bored,
in fact, they all stand quite assured
captured by news photographers,
unnoticed by the broadcasters;
A human’s safety needs are ignored;
there is no discrimination.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
N.B if you haven’t read my other posts, I’m not a fan of our present government, or of Brexit. But I don’t trust Corbyn and the leadership of the opposition either. UK politics is a shambles. Beyond politics of left or right, leave or remain (I hope remain) there is the issue that no one should be blocking the essential access of a person with mobility needs by holding a rally outside their access door when a sign clearly requests this area be kept clear.
Those Who Build Walls; a Rondeau
“Those who build walls are their own prisoners.”
So Ursula K. Le Guin would tell us,
When I look at the world I see this truth
Where-ever our sense of freedom is skewed,
When our prejudice becomes our jailer,
Ramparts and barriers have hidden us;
We, captive creatures in a crazed circus
Slowly becoming that old spectacle;
Those who build walls,
We can, in large part, blame corrupt leaders
But, for their own power, they must heed us,
We’re our own saviours when we’ve got the gall
But we’re often both guards and criminals
Turning ourselves into the invaders;
Those who build walls.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
The 48% 