The landing floor creaks

The landing floor creaks

The stairs look bleak

Disappearing down into darkness

The belly of a whale

Full of mud.

Through the window

A few stars struggle to be seen

The Thames glistens

With the lights of a million homes

As the filth of it

Disgorges into the sea

Which pretends to move

But sits in wait

Devouring the unwary

Who fail to comprehend

The depth of its depravity

Never giving up its bounty

Until it is bloated.

The stink of death

Can carry all the way upstream

To Eton and beyond

The little brats in penguin suits

Who wear their privilege

With all the grace of a cane toad

Cheer the xenophobes

Rally around the misogynists

And sail down the muddy Thames

On their daddy’s yacht

To the bay of Biscay

Which lies in silence

Barely a shadow less than the sky,

Pretending to acquiesce

Until the wind decides to blow

Delivering a permission slip

To sink all ships

And to the devil

With the consequence.

It is the way of things at midnight

When the clock chimes

Over Westminster

And a joker with an axe to grind

Tries to pull a condom

Over Big Ben

Just to make a point about

The population explosion

And its impact on

The environment.

The bitterness of a protest lost on the river

Which continues to flow

A slow worm

A lizard snake, uncoiling

Until, eventually, it regurgitates

Mad-dogs and Englishmen

Out from the belly of Jonah’s

Bulimic whale,

Into the sea.