Unpatriotic Tribute to the Leader of the Commons

**

She is telling us off,

her replicant head

overblown on the screen–

about to spark and implode

like faulty white goods

midway through a Red Planet dystopia,

her delivery as robotic as Bad Maria’s,

spinning into profit of doom,

tongue printing nothing of value

but eternal parking tickets,

mouse-skin brows

tracing their own arch imperial 

above those swivelling eyes

set in a mummy’s skin

papyrus thin–

and how she caves in

when we are mean to her,

tears of a bankrupt

decanted from a municipal drinking

fountain rusted at core,

selfish ducts,

that soon spring into action,

running down a costly fascia,

devoid of empathy,

mean fuschia mouth,

a candy machine

twisting out platitudes

with the conviction politics of a Goebbels wife,

while deep down inside,

all she can think is how jolly brave of her

to keep the flag waving.

**

 

 

 

 

 

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Unpatriotic Tribute to the Leader of the Commons

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