homage to the spectacled savant by Mandy MacDonald

I wish i could write like John Cooper Clarke;
i wish i could rant with his fire and his spark
at the bankers, the wankers, the capsized oil tankers,
insane council projects all morphing to shops,
the high street deceased and our culture sold off,
the software, the hardware, the hard-wearing leers
of the people who sell you your rage and your tears
in a 2-for-1 offer (we care for your purse!);
and you can’t ever say it won’t get any worse,
with the lies told for profit, the god that Trumps God,
and the rape of our  land that goes through on the nod,
and the way that our food makes us sick, makes us fat
(but let’s blame the victims for troubles like that!),
and the rattling and waving of sabres and flags
(in that order), cos peace is a terrible drag –
it’s so bad for business, if arms is your trade
(when the shit hits the fan there’s a mint to be made!);
and searching out peace is like hunting the Snark …
oh, i wish i could write like John Cooper Clarke!

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