I am sick of this Tory story,
The dead “line” of a Blue wave,
Tsunami-like in its destruction
Of ravens and starlings, magpies and crows,
Of badgers and foxes, buzzards and pigeons,
Of red deer, red robins, grey squirrels,
Now deemed “vermin”…
When it’s the politicians
Who should take a good look in the mirror.
I am sick of this Tory story,
That fails to “Conserve,”
Declaring war on our wildlife,
Promoting the unholy interests of an ‘Alliance’
Of wealthy, weekend ‘sportsmen’
Who decimate the countryside.
That fails to see the Devil in “dev*loper,”
Carving up our “green and pleasant land,”
To make unaffordable, second homes.
I am sick of this Tory story,
That only understands the word “share”
In self-serving, financial terms.
That forgets the “serve” in favour of the “Con.”
That slashes the hopes of young and poor,
Whilst making the wealthy exempt,
From all social and ethical responsibility.
That promotes an unnatural order:
“The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate,”
Claiming God, for a man-made inequality.
I am sick of this Tory Story,
That sends drones to weakened people,
Agitating for war,
Whilst posing as “peacemakers.”
In the real speculation for oil.
In the secret hope of culling
A vastly over-populated planet.
In the interests of “sustainability”
For the newly “Chosen.”
I am sick of this Tory Story.
Heidi Stephenson
