Brexit Baker

The wind howls through the halls

of power; a place where

the theatre of lies and misled royals 

recalled by people and law, 

the ass has spoken,

like Balaam’s donkey truth is told

and angel tears drop in grace,

from soft stone eyes as the 

portal to parliament is pushed

aside, open hopeful


on an equal jousting yard

of voices emboldened

the truth to be told

and will the law breaker

truth taker

Brexit Baker

cook a cake of

lost opportunities

and job losses? 

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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