Posted July 3. I wrote a poem about Brexit and read it in front of Kenny Reed and his jazz band at Moe’s Tavern.
“But he must see, after what he has done, that he is now cast in the public mind not as a heroic man of conviction, but as a sort of Westminster suicide bomber, whose deadly belt of explosives has been detonated not by his own hand, but by his own wife.”
If Shakespeare were alive, he would be all over this BoGo BoJo MoJo thing – like a big dog! Here is White Treachery at its finest. It would make a great epic poem, but, who would want to write it? Where’s the love! For sure, Merry England fell out of love with their grande spirit-guide and spell-caster, or, they would have known better, would have seen what was coming – the proverbial knife in the back! And, the treachery of a ambitious wife?
“The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch”
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