“..depressing domestic emergencies..”, sunak 2022

AI generated image of a snake with teeth

is this what we choose to lead us,

(..no we didn’t, he never won a general election..)

so why is he there,

“..cuz the old cuntries swear..”

{..then we may have a curse..}

a curse on the small

will be the same for us all.

so why is it good to be cruel?

sociopaths, I ask by means of logic,

a human

masking as a computer.

or maybe just the last vestige

of an autistic boy

now finding the truth

is not so sweet

when you’re grovelling at their feet.

do we want a depressed proven incompetent

running the country?

are we mad,

are we sick!?

I try not to shout,

passive aggressive is all I can give out,

if I were to allow more

then this old man would definitely not live.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

spiral down in reverse

AI generated image of lots of silhouetted humanoids floating and appearing out of falling rocks. A blood sea and muted psychedelic sky

bee like a tree

nothing better to see

down the old shelter

while bombs come pelter

the good old days

full of golden water

bloody sunlit bloody uplands

matt handjob’s dead persons

truss the economic grenade

bye bye tory bastard

you won’t be saved

(btw bojo wasn’t included)

(that one needs silence)

(bloody lying bloody bastard)

(piss off with farage)

(leavers enjoying it yet?)

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

is he mentally ill?

the pm is still unhinged,

maybe he’s ill, mentally so,

if so then should he be caretaker at all?

he needs a robust mental health service,

if you care about him,

get him help!

I fear for his health,

I don’t feel sorry for him,

he was warned constantly of what it would bring,

he did it anyway, now he’s too ill on a powerful pill.

power may corrupt, power does crave like a bugger,

same as “..more resources than we need..”,

same as “..damn the earth, more greed!.”

these addictions need treating, this definitely needs defeating.

so bring in the billionaire non-dom moguls,

make them explain why they’re here,

let’s hear their lies as they paint the skies,

a horrid shade of dead.

business uk should only be owned by those that pay their taxes, ok,

then we can plant more trees.

(less tabloids, more real news.)

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

the swellenman (gone but never forgiven)

they’re a contender, get out of here!

every additional thing they say gets worse by the day!

they pump the depths of neoliberalist catastrophe!

they’re a rot, a weed without seed,

they’re nourished by their depravity,

but what if they’re all the dead cat?

delay, deny, bluster is all cholesterol clot musters!

they’re all planning to be the worst,

trying to save the slime king’s curse!

have they grown hearts?

have they grown brains?

have they become humanitarian?

or have they all gone insane?

watch this farce nightmare fantasy,

play out in the house of tragedy.

braying rabid mules taking us for fools,

like their hand isn’t showing?

we should know by now they only kowtow,

to the god of billionaires, the paradise of escape,

while the rest endure destruction and rape!

when sunak is described as a socialist,

because he’s summoned thatcher’s fundamentalist,

something in the world quite special has died,

the good sense that we were born with.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString

like hotdog water sold as a health drink

the tories are picking a new leader,

or should I say a select few tories,

the ones with their wrinkled gammon eyes,

spying more places they can hide,

all the wealth of the nation’s pride.

they say it’s like picking the best portaloo at glastonbury,

or your favourite sewage pipe in a shit factory,

who can out transphobe the next anal probe,

the turds that stick to that barrel!

who will offer the best kicking for your #GoNads

the one that smiles the widest and promises the worst advertised.

propagandise the scared mail sun reader,

advertise their compliance to the mogul leader,

who will scatter the most shite on your front page,

while excusing themselves with drunk rage.

ask your forgiveness as they pick flesh from your innards.

just wise up to the diatribes of tory bribes,

the murdoch, the dacre,

the ponce fucking harms-twattery.

the sunak now gives a crap,

about the failing of the previous sunak.

the truss in their selfied gaze,

has just poured tea into the irish hosiery.

the gobby spite of the terminally right,

patel’s got form as always.

a form to drown those that flee from the rounds,

of bullets that fly from wallace’s arms trade.

the braver the man, sue ellen’s woman,

who seems to be confused with what’s hanging.

they’re all obsessed with what the rest’s got between their legs,

porn in the pews,

now in the tractor news,

blowjobs in office with offers from boris.

sexual abuse by the member without whips, the mass debater,

carries on much like before.

they’re all pus-cake filled with coke and hate,

the choice of best cardiac arrest,

in a lone icu gasping for breath.

the tastiest scum floating down the river wee,

the sweatiest bollock sack you’ll ever see,

the mouse droppings in brine carted out as benign,

the bogey berries hanging on their vomit vine.

this ain’t the lot, there’s still plenty of snot,

swimming around in that tory clot.

this is polite, I’d like you to know,

but this anger still grows.

save yourselves, scum tory,

call a general election then most of you go free,

barring certain criminal entities.

© Copyright 2022 InkeyString