Night Mail | Simon Poulter

This is the Night Mail crossing the border, Bringing the chaos and the civil disorder, Packages for the rich, letters for the poor, The Amazon Prime held for the woman next door. Pulling up Lives, a steady climb: The gradient’s against her, but her UC’s declined. Past abandoned shops and moorland boulder Neglected towns are left to moulder, Snorting speedballs as she passes Silent miles of skunky grasses. Birds turn their heads as she approaches, Glazed over citizens sleep with cockroaches. Sheep dogs abandoned upon the hills; Animals forced fed with pre-death pills. In the farm the beasts stand unaware, As there’s no-one left to really care . Tweets of thanks, nasty letters from banks, TikTok joy from the girl and the boy, Death threats and invitations People out to take down your relations, And applications for situations Along with we are sorry to inform you declarations And angry populism from all the nations, Fake news, along with Daily Snark bile, Largely propagandised, true once in a while, SnapChat with faces scrawled in the margin, No one gives a shit about uncles, cousins, and aunts, Separation of Scotland and sh ghts with France, It was a shock when someone asked if you’re okay, Crap deals stitched up by GOV.UK, Composed on iPads with every hue, The pink, the violet, the white and the blue, The shitty, the catty, the boring, adoring, The complete bastards and the heart’s outpouring, Clever, stupid, short and long, Threads that spelt nearly everything wrong. And they shall wake soon and check their likes, Before nipping to the gym on electric bikes. Without a stent implant in there heart, It might be simple to end with ’til Death do us part?