Canto CCXL

Okay, daughter dearest, hear this right,
that crazy stuff each side of you is noise.
That crazy stuff in front of you is light.

The warbling beyond our curtain is
a Nigerian couple casting Satan out
of a bed provided by the NHS.

The NHS aren’t devils or devout,
they are the country’s socialist backbone,
the young nurses that once cried “Maggie out!”

are still walking the wards where you were born,
though the moral high ground that they tread
might soon be privatised by George Osbourne

before that hated, heckled Baroness
has sunk into her private trust pillows
to die a premium, elitist death.

Oh dear, I’m talking politics, I know,
it’s yet to stain the mind of your sweet ilk,
but since we’re skin to skin I must disclose

like Thatcher, my man boobs will not give milk.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Apr 29, 2012 @ 22:38:31

    Wrong, wrong, wrong…this is not the time for politics (valid as the comments are.)
    In the next three poems you get it spot on.


  2. Niall O'Sullivan
    Jul 07, 2012 @ 10:09:28

    It is always the time for politics, especially in the moments that we deem the most personal. This poem was written during a ten day period where we experienced everything first hand rather than as some abstract sound bite news report culture. During this time, we were knee deep in politics with the lives of my wife and child deeply connected to the machinations of the government’s NHS strategy. At this point in my life, there was no convenient line between the personal and political. My politics were at their most personalised and my subjectivity was deeply politicised.


  3. peter litton
    Jul 10, 2012 @ 00:20:38

    Well at least you read my comments. I just thought it was out of place with the narrative of your poetry at the time. I loathe politics now, probably because of that two faced git Blair and that useless git Brown….they wrecked the labour party and made it unelectable.


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