Poetry

Referring to this.

You've won the Women's Ballon d'Or
You dribble, tackle, shoot and score
But do you twerk?

You strike a hard and well-aimed ball
Around a wide defensive wall
But do you twerk?

Top scorer in the Champions League
But one thing fills me with intrigue:
Do you twerk?

All hail to public hospitals
Which treat us at no cost at all
Come forth and heed the homage call
Give thanks and praise

Admire their shiny corridors
The wonder drugs in well-stocked stores
And colour-coded wings and floors
And curtained bays

Where patients' injuries are healed
By specialists in every field
Equipment-laden trolleys wheeled
In urgency

The established religion
is
this:

Royals
bring gifts to baby
born in poverty

Now those
born in poverty
bring gifts to baby
Royals

This
is
the established religion

Widening roads
parking lorries
carrying loads
of no-deal worries

Laying Tarmac
digging ditches
making car parks
burning bridges

Office holder
riding high on 
a hard Brexit shoulder
to pull over and cry on

Sailing boats away
laying mines
widening motorways
narrowing minds

Neurotypicals
Seem odd because they can't see
The trees for the wood

I saw a poster the other day
that said it's OK
to not be OK

I was sitting in a waiting room
while others sit
or just exist
on a waiting list
for months or years
Worsening trauma, growing fears
Not serious enough to jump the queue
or get what's good for you
Bide your time
stand in line
wait your turn
And as you wait, maybe you'll learn
to be more resilient
that would be brilliant
Parity of esteem?
in your dreams
The stuff of inspriation memes
Buzz words
fuzz words
nothing does words
Set targets
trust the market
It will decide
and it will provide
for those who pay

I wanted to clap at the funeral today
But I think that is seen as poor taste
I longed to applaud such a brilliant speech
But I feared it would seem out of place

I wanted to shout 'Hear! Hear!' when you said
Deceased was a wonderful chap
The whole of me knew this was so very true
I was craving to let out a clap