I’m surrounded by street poets, half my age and then some,
all perfect white privilege, beatin’ on the rainbow/big black/”I’m woke” drum.
Brainwashed from too much BBC, orange man do bad!
Think of the fuckin’ children! Of the ones they’ve never had.
Diversity is our strength, and The party’s programme.
Agressively silence dissent, fire up antifa’s pogrom.
Burn diction’ries an’ the books, the woke are paperless,
fluid digital info, changin’ faster than events.
Cryin’ foul when the truth hurts, muzzle the voices of the free.
These bards find fame and fortune, parroting idiocy.
No one likes a winner, so no ones been left behind,
can’t add up the deep state damage, to hypocrisy they’re blind.
To hide their ultra-whiteness, tattooed their skin coal black.
Hang on to your handbags, when these snowflakes seek payback.
©3.3.2020 Andrew Robert Chapman