Liz(ard) by Jodie Rose McLoughlin

Head of the church
Loved by the sheeple
When we’re compliant and quiet
we’re subjects
Not people

Individual
Not collected.
In their eyes only Peasants.
Our rights not   protected.

Preaching thrift from atop a golden throne.
Kindly old lady.
Aww ain’t she sweet?
I’d never abuse an elderly person but,
I’d love to throw that old bag out of her seat.

Of power
Incestuous bloodiness
Cruelty and corruption is all I see.

Looking good for the tourists and commonwealth is all that matters.
As you hid away and institutionalised  your cousins,
who had a mental age of three.

Locked up until the day they died.
Their crime being a learning difficulty, no more, no less.
None of that matters to the media fed subjects.
Subjected to the ‘truth’ from the right wing press.

Indoctrinated to respect,
history and the mysteries of the past.
Handing our future over on a plate to elite, greedy masters.
Under their hunting boots our dignity won’t last.

Disrespectful?
Un-patriotic.
Ask me why I disapprove, let me regale you with my reasons.
Saying what many people really think and sod oppressive  traditions.
Throw me in the tower
Cut my head off for treason!

Let them try to silence us,
defile and define us.
Lock me up,
I’d do my time.
Thinking these thoughts is not YET a crime.

Murder is,
assassination.
Of a haughty, high and mighty nation.
Ran half of the world.
Until the tide turned,
and the natives refused to be occupied or conquered.

Any more of this
and the people will get
pissed
off.
Revolt and revolution man!

Blow up the rotten, festering, posturing system.
Your ‘God given’ right to rule,
has not gone to plan.

The Princess, she ran,
from a palace that protected the evillest of men.
With handshakes, over banquets deals and wicked deeds concocted.
Like staging a car collision, ‘a tragic accident’,
So that she’d never speak out again.

Wouldn’t wanna be.
Part of the monarchy.
The peasants are revolting.
The beasts tails are poking out of their robes,
their scaly skin coats moulting.

The correct term being shedding.
Shredding our freedoms with puppet nodding Assent.

Royally screwed
Down-trodden for too long.
Fed up of being subjected to this.
So, we will not relent.

Until I can do my own little bit,
to try and bring the fuckers down.
All should be born equal,
no better than us,
and one mere mortal has no right to wear a crown.

Cold blooded,
black heart.
I will cheer when she departs.
Sibilantly he whispers in her ear does her consort, the un-PC dark wizard.

They wipe their arses the same way that we do.
Reveal yourself to your loyal people,
who pray and sing,
and swoon and die,

It’s all for you
our dearest Liz(ard).

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