Political poem coming up. Sorry, Tories, I am a labour girl. No nasty comments please, freedom of speech!

There are people without homes
In sleeping bags, alone
Real people
not just pictures on social media
that you scroll through heartlessly on your phone
people the police herd away, with hearts of stone
whilst you have your Christmas fun
and like a madman you shout
“Let’s get Brexit done”.

The children are suffering
They are living in greater poverty
Than you greedy buggars could understand
Real children
Not just statistics
That you gloss over like an inconvenient number
Whilst the children are starving, and frozen they slumber
And Christmas is coming and santa won’t visit
While you stuff your faces yet the children will miss it

But you don’t give a shit with your heart of granite
and you shout
“get Brexit done, it’ll all be alright”.

The schools are suffering
The teachers are stressed
As you cut back their budgets
And their wages are much less
And the resources dwindle
And the children are victims
Of your austerity bullshit
You talk from your rectum

And if bollocks were you, you would weigh a ton
Yet still you shout
“Get Brexit done”.

You seem to have only one agenda
To look after the fortunate
The rich, the big spender.
Now finally it’s time to take a stance
To look after the ones who don’t have a chance

And we should be shouting from the top of the rooftops
To the moon to the sun
“Get Boris done”

©2019 Sarah Drury

You Said You Loved Me

You said you loved me
When we feasted our eyes it was love at first sight
I could barely see you with my shitty eyesight
And your dodgy white dentures gave me a real fright
And we would have looked better in the fog at midnight
But you loved me.

You said you loved me
When you first held my hand and you squeezed it too tight
When your teeth met my neck, left a blood stained love bite
When you tackled my bra strap with all of your might
When it twanged in your face, knocked you out for the night
But you loved me.

You said you loved me
When your hand slipped down under the strap of my pants
And I kicked your man bits and made your goolies dance
When you couldn’t stand up for your sausage smashed stance
And you looked like strictly dancing with your shit prance
But you loved me

You said you loved me
When you staggered to bed with your bits all aglow
When you’d had your Viagra and didn’t I know
That you’re such a hot bloke that your prick would melt snow
And your ego would bloat as your bits start to grow
But you loved me

You said you loved me
When you left me next day in a state of undress
And said you’d had enough sex a vicar to bless
And you lied, you are pie in the sky, I digress
And I know that you’re famous, you don’t want a mess
So I pick up the phone and I go to the press

And you don’t love me now….

Boris Johnson!

©2019 Sarah Drury

Am I a Poet/ Working Tax Credit Live

Last night I traipsed over to Hull to my friend’s open mic night ‘Away With Words’. It was a brilliant night, with lots of interesting poetry and prose and some amazing people, including my favourite, a rapping granny.

Here’s my performances of ‘Am I a Poet?’ and ‘Working Tax Credit’.