TO SERFDOM. To the disembodied claw,
iron pincer of adjustment; to another
glorious four years of being all -
right - Jack. To freedom in a single bound.
To furious pedalling into gale-force wind.
To dereliction: to becoming one
of us by slow deregulation, sloughing
conscience as you near the brimming trough.
To dying of ignorance. To token resistance.
To your constituents, ungrateful rabble
though they may be. To the camera, inert
force-multiplier; to the tooled-up Met,
their horses shamming injury. To cancer,
wild obsolescence, at unheard-of length.
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