The Tories though. We watch them in dismay
All shifty liars, some said, others thought
That some were reasonable, if you caught
Them in the light, or on a summer’s day
You’d listen to the things they had to say
At least without becoming overwrought
Or thinking of the wars our fathers fought
Or falling on our creaky knees to pray
What is this shit? The fantasies, the lies
The seven bins on fire without the smoke
The artificial wars against the woke
The desperation and dogwhistle cries
For what? For populism and the cause!
The conference erupts in wild applause
© Gail Foster 4th October 2023
Rhetoric
Within Our Echo Chambers Hear Our Cry
Our words may be too many or too few
May simply complicate, or simplify
I’d choose them carefully if I were you
One wonders what we want our words to do
Remove the speck from someone else’s eye?
Our words may be too many or too few
They vanish, most of them, into the blue
But ghosts remain to haunt us when we die
I’d choose them carefully if I were you
We speak for speaking’s sake, our egos spew
A constant stream of consciousness, and lie
Our words may be too many or too few
We patronise our children, to our crew
We speak in ciphers. Words are birds that fly
I’d choose them carefully if I were you
We fill the empty air with nothing new
Within our echo chambers hear our cry
Our words may be too many or too few
I’d choose them carefully if I were you
© Gail Foster 17th May 2023
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