BLO0D AND LIES
What ever happened to Gonzales.
No, not Speedy Gonzales,
but slow Gonzales.
Took his baby daughter
from El Salvador, hoping to make it
to Dallas.
Twenty-three months to reach the American Dream.
Got to the Mexican border, the Rio Grande.
Became a wet-back, the floating debris of Latin-America,
he and his baby daughter, drowned among
the crammed.
So they acclaim the US the greatest power on earth
when its dream is washed out, threadbare,
you could buy from any charity shop.
A new president, a new makeover, more blood and lies.
Nevertheless, the cargo-cult religion is still on the hop.
Superman wrung the necks of those
violating his Latino backyard of
El Salvador, Nicaragua, Panama and
Chile, then tasked
some of them to grow only bananas,
designating them banana republics.
(Oh, how wonderful life was once in Mafia
Havana!)
Gonzales did become Speedy.
Speedily died
as did his baby daughter.
Return to sender,
not needed for cheap labour, humiliation
and Imperial slaughter.
Wilson John Haire, 29th January, 2019.
CANUTE PLAYS HIS LUTE
Poor old David Attenborough at
Glastonbury.
Always seems in a terrible hurry.
Preaches on plastics and
overpopulation.
Hates the uneducated who voted
Brexit.
Wants it reversed with a writ.
Yes, poor old David Attenborough.
Loves anything furry.
Seems the human race gets in their way
but reluctant to leave earth himself
to convey
a fall in the population.
Lives in a long-lost nation.
W.J.Haire. 16th July, 2019
RIP VAN WINKLE RIDES AGAIN
That jargon of US winners and losers syndrome:
And the losers are:
Sewer workers, they who do bus driving, garbage,
street lighting.
Mere gnomes..
Then the power of money fades, for a moment.
Not though the kindness of heart
did the lid on society lift
to vent,
for a time
to pull the elite apart
It was politics, the fight for the top seat,
Washington, the White House,
the casting-up:
who did what, who said what
that beat
the privilege of the under-age girls,
the bitch-pups,
the £86 million pound house
in Manhattan.
Now the dreary cell for a louse
within walking distance.
The islands, the private jets.
(so far away)
Time to batten
down the hatches,
you suckers of Wall Street,
for you’re maybe in his debt.
Everything’s in a fever now.
Go
before it catches.
W.J.Haire. 14th August, 2019.
Labour Affairs Magazine 