Farage Rhymes with Garage 

I feel the time has come for me to publicly disparage
The smug obnoxious Xenophobe Whose surname rhymes with garage

His out and out rejection of immigration, blacks and Hanukkah
Seems to me to be an irony
Given the pronunciation of his moniker!

Farage has rather a Frankish twang
A certain je ne sais quoi!
So how can a man with such obvious French ancestry 
Be so quick to bar?!

I’ve concluded he’s a masochist,
His campaign has left him jobless
He turned up at his office, Friday
And to the lot said “cobblers!”

He’s a man I find so easy to hate
Yet many rally to him
But while the snake may have fooled them
I personally see right through him.

His thin-veiled threats of anarchy 
And Anglo-ruled apartheid
Are not a threat but promises
To whitewash all of England’s past
And make us Dulux White!

But I’m Irish, see. (Well, my grandma was!)
And my name has Norman virtue
And my Grandad’s name’s from Viking times
So where do I return to??!

Do I fly to Cork to find a life
In Ireland’s southernmost town,
Or sail to Normandy or in fact
To Denmark settle down.

There’s no such thing as English
We’re a multicultural nation!
Anglo (French) and Saxon (German) is hardly pure breeding
But these people want to rewrite the books 
Historians will be reading.

Without the Normans
Would an Englishman’s home
His castle still remain?
And without Vikings would we be
The mariners we became?

The Romans built our towns and roads
But what have they ever done for us?!
The Irish built the railway lines 
So you don’t have to take the bus!

The Windies brought us colour
With their music, style and vision
Imagine the long Winter of discontent 
Without the reggae rhythm

The 70’s opened doors to India
And business Pakistani
Well, what would be the lads night out
Without a Biryani?!

As Berlin’s wall was taken down
I wept a tear of triumph
No longer will we leave in fear 
Of those prehistoric giants 

Of xenophobia, greed and envy 
Even South Africa followed suit,
But now arise a generation 
Who gives the lot the boot!

Take a long look at your English lives 
As you dine at Swedish tables 
Watching Japanese TV’s
Drive your German car to work upon 
A hundred foreign labels!

Each wave that came has made this home 
And starting at the bottom 
Has put to shame our lazy lives 
By remembering what we’ve forgotten

Integrity comes from deep within 
From earning honest bread
From working till you are worn out
And collapsing in your bed

No restless sleep for he who works
And earns his daily crust 
But on his efforts he can lean
And on his hands he’ll trust.

The Tories stole your benefits 
They questioned if you’re able
They forced the pound to be so strong 
You struggled to lay your table

But Farage blamed all the immigrants 
Those nasty foreign scum
He said they stole your nationhood
And you believed his lying tongue.

He set the fuse and waited for
The shit to hit the fan,
And now the news,
He’s buggered off!
What a spineless little man!

P J Deakin 2016©

Don’t Lump for Trump!

If I lived in AmericaI wouldn’t vote for Trump
I’d rather vote for Pootle 
In fact, any of The Flumps 
Than sit and twiddle with my thumbs
And watch that redneck lump…

I couldn’t let him have that power
And stand by like a chump!
I couldn’t idly watch that businessman
The US economy gazzump

With his modern take on Nazi prose 
Where African or Mexican can legally be thumped
When I look back on our history 
Consider Hitler, I’m stumped 

As to how a man with so evil an agenda
Could rise to power, yet Trump
Blames all the problems on the Muslims 
And Mexicans who jump

Across the void of poverty 
To make a life like Gump
Where shackles can be overcome 
And you don’t end on your rump 

But Mr Toupee wants to take your dreams
And throw them in the dump
For two centuries your great nation built 
On immigration pump
Yet now you say enough’s enough
You’re greedy and a grump!

The end is nigh, the eagle high 
Lies quivering in a clump
Because of evil, selfish agendas
Of that wicked Mr Trump!

P J Deakin 2016©

How Would You Feel? 

How would you feel,
Excuse me, begging your pardon
But how would you feel if the whole wide world
Decided to fight in your garden?!

Russian jets, Yank and Brit
Dropping bombs on their target
Undermining native hope
How can we poor Syrians cope?

The world and his wife
Has tuned in to us
Each eyeing a piece of the pie
But it’s not your peace, it’s not your war
It’s not your pie it’s not your sky

That’s darkened by the mortar shell
The fiery red, of burning hell
This cradle of humanity
This birthplace of a faith
Is under siege by greed and hate

But don’t just drop your bombs and go!
Stick around for the after-show
The clear-up from this terrible war
The rebuild of my beautiful nation

Not the chance to polish your medals
Or pat each other on the back
But to oust Assad and his evil ways
His allies have been mightily praised
For dropping bombs on hospitals?!
Putin is no Saviour, King!
He just wants his share of the spoils.

So how would you feel
If the whole wide world
Decided to fight in your garden
You’ll excuse me if I don’t jump for joy
If don’t grant your pardon

But I am waiting to see
How much you care
About my sons and daughters
Or whether you are just intent
On another Middle-East slaughter.

P J Deakin 2015 ©

Love Your Enemies

How do I respond
To the news I heard today
When gunmen shoot indiscriminately
To take innocent lives away?

How can we protect
Our citizens from this crime
When the enemy lies deep within
It seems only a matter of time

No longer do we war for land
Or strive for tribe or nation
We’re fighting ideologies
A totally new sensation!

His creed, not concrete
His fight online
He wars to end oppression
By oppressing those who stole their oil
And fed them just the breadcrumbs

No WMD, Kalashnikov
Can inspire such fear and dread
As a concept that can propogate
From a laptop while in bed!

No armed force thrust or allied strike
Can decapitate this notion
For a thought that gains and slowly builds
Is gathering in motion

How do I respond that so many
Were involved in Parisian slaughter?
Do I abandon all religion?
Throw the baby out with the water?

Do I take up arms, retaliate
Become more cruel, more ruthless?
Or would eye for eye and tooth for tooth
Just leave us blind and toothless?!!

Or do I say
There’s better ways,
And turn the other cheek
And pray sincerely that one day
Each one will truly seek
And hold out hands of forgiveness though they be charred and burned
A love which gives sacrificially when nothing has been earned.

P J Deakin 14 November 2015 ©