Oh, dear John

Oh, dear John

What would become

Of you today

A call for bombs

To rain down on Slough

Would be frowned upon

Hatred shared in virulent

Memes

Whatever they might be

An apology sought

A withdrawal of patronage

Demanded

As the irony was lost

In a modern context

Full of fake news

Dinosaurs

With contrary views

That need to be

Assuaged

To maintain popularity

The sadness now

Is that Slough

Is just another town

No better or worse

Than the nub

Of any verse

When life is a contest

Rather than a surprise

Art is repurposed

As fashion

With less passion

Than a Warhol print

In a white room

With just a splash

Of colour

As a statement of intent

When less is said

Than is ever meant

The losers

Are the ones

Who fail to care

For the bravery

In the words

Of those who dare