Party time for some!

Its party time for clowns,

jumping around he laughs,

drinking long deep draughts,

while they giggle o’er jokes and  their gaffes.


Outside the folk stay in,

the rules for others thin,

no invitations in the nation

apart for the leading loon and his pally kin.


jostling and singing along,

playing games of ping pong

with the hearts of the nation.

Happy Christmas to us in Lockdown’s their song.


I can’t get my medication

I can’t get my favourite snack

I can’t get my Christmas treat,

because it’s sold out and we will adjust to the lack.


I am sitting in a cold room 

‘cos gas is rare and dear,

I can’t visit my family ‘cos

that blasted mutating virulent virus is very near.


The NHS is overwhelmed,

the waiting lists are long,

the staff tired and exhausted

busting their guts while no 10 revels along.


You partied, you Brexited

and took your time to Lock

down. We pay in hungry kids,

cold houses and even toddlers toys are out of stock.

So, stop grinning and

face the facts that your

miserable acts and greedy

pacts are disastrous, derisory and break the law..

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?