Slurring Sluggish Slang

Note: The poem is dedicated to some British citizens I have had the opportunity to observe and has nothing to do with the entire nation. As in every country, there are bad apples that spoil the dough, and I've just described a few in my poem. And to justify myself I'm pretty much British too so a few bad apples never put me off from loving this place.

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Fu**ing spoiled

From the cradle

Your word fu**ing is everywhere

In your father’s mouth

How did they bring you up

And where?

You, indigenous inhabitant of irrational land

Swearing on every corner

Provoking the mind, doing damage deceitfully

To yourself

Mumbling words that I don’t understand properly

You put a mask on top

And instead of the whole cake

I have crumbs tossed at me

And smashed into my face

What’s the point of that?

You dare to criticise my accent

All I hear is counterfeit laughter

Do you realise that all you know

Is this town, nothing more?

The oldest generation to learn the basics

But they cannot appreciate other citizens

Only their own mates

Go ask yourselves

Where is this attitude going?

You are trying to teach me when you have no rights

To put yourself above me

Who do you think you are?

I’ve worked harder for your welfare

Paying taxes, making sure you get

Any support you need

Even in the worst of times

I was among the beasts

And now I can’t even sit up straight

With a broken back

From work that exceeds

Your probable commitment

Copiously paving the way

For the worst a**holes I’ve ever met

Here

*

10 November 2021

revised on 23 August 2022

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