1. Gordon Brown
Sat down
and started to talk.
His eyes spanned the room
pupils pierced the gloom,
but with his first vowel, began to balk.
2.
“Bloody Tories”
he muttered, stories
That gave away their cowardice
like one he spoke
crying Camerons toke
on jazz cigarette of cannabis.
3.
“Why not heroin
or eyeball tonic and gin
not weed like a thug
if her were any sort of man
a jean claude [...]
A Poem