The laboratory of Nigel Farage

At Nigel Farage’s laboratory

I saw England in Formaldehyde,

Lionhearts displayed in pickle jars

A skull and crossbone warning of cancer.

 

In Theresa May’s disco moves

I saw Brexit dance the night away,

the day away, the yesterday’s away, gone,

all of the days became harder than a soft Brexit.

 

At Earlsdon library a woman decides to remain

she is protesting to a mixed race volunteer

both do not wish to leave

they are forcibly removed.

 

At Nigel Farage’s laboratory

I hear a man deliver lies with a velvet tongue,

he is wearing a cheap suit from China

a thread is trying to leave the slave weaves

 

to many he looks and sounds respectable.

Photo by slon_dot_pics on Pexels.com