(William
Shakespeare, ‘The Book of Sir Thomas More’)
Policy
driven by entitlement,
Buttressed
by privilege, malice, envy,
And
narrow greed that brooks no reminders
Of
our moral responsibility.
You
frighten old people into dying,
Making them slaves to meet your KPIs -
Data
collection, endless complying -
You'd
save them if they made animal cries.
Victory
has gone to people smugglers,
For
they begat the worst in you and more.
Smugness
succours you as their trade is plied
On
yet another fatal, distant, shore.
And
all I see is inhumanity,
Mountainish
in its ghastly proportions,
Grotesque
in its self-serving distortions.
So
much for mateship and for amity!
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