• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 10
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Men of power in steel-blue suits
We think we can expose their truths
With smears and anecdotes
Perhaps an Oxford man, perhaps Eton,
It doesn’t matter which
Morality, dignity, humanity, empathy,
The steel-blue, crisp-ironed fibres
Deflect them all the same
Assault captured on film won’t cut it
Like they cut the poor and the disabled
Now they hire those who look like us
But do not represent us
To make their dirty work more palatable
While fussing over imperial measurements
The word too familiar to their beloved Empire
That had my grandparents leave whole villages behind
Rifts my future generations will still have to heal
Talking about British values
When they never had to just get by
Talking about British values
While the homeless sleep in the rain
Talking about British values
Stoking hate against those that built this country’s name
And we march and we protest
To come home to our neighbours cracking our windows
Stealing welcome doormats to say we are unwelcome
But when I say my humanity is not debatable
I’m too loud, too aggressive, too uncivil.



What’s a march in Westminster going to do?
We need a march in every neighbourhood
Inroads to stronger communities
Building change from the ground up
Or maybe we can throw milkshakes
Or maybe we can pitch them in their blue suits
As exhibitions for expeditions to poke and prod
And jeer and laugh
Bucket-list sensation for the world to enjoy
An adventure tour of public schoolboys.