(with thanks to W.B. Yeats)
I will repair the boat and go now, and go to Westminster.
A pavement shack will I build there, of cardboard and plastic made,
Nine alibis will I have there, and fears for my sanity,
and live in crowds in the traffic fumes and crackdown on undesirables and the over-reaction police security raid.
And I shall find some greed there, and lies from the BBC,
dripping from the Cabinet Office to where the media cringe,
where midnight’s broken promises, and noon a legal travesty,
and evening full of the consequences of all these irresponsible things.
I will repaint the boat and go for Rudd, Corbyn, Bercow, Johnson, May and Gove,
for always night and day
I hear protesters clashing in anger and despair,
while I am on the shoreline, or in the heather mauve,
I hear it in the shallow heart of Westminster.