Thursday, 27 August 2015

Poem for Ian Duncan Smith

(This week has seen the release of figures that show that 2,650 people died between Dec 2011 and Feb 2014, after being declared Fit for work by the DWP. Almost half of those who died were appealing the decision.
Over 2,500 peoples lives were  made unbearable as a direct result of Ian Duncan Smith's decision of withdrawing the very money that would have made their lives a little more bearable towards the end of their days.I can't say this is my best work, but I believe IDS deserves it. probably deserves far worse) Shocking figures that reveal the human cost of this Government's punishing benefits regime.

Ian Duncan Smith, is surely a bit unstable,
what kind of  real work has he ever done,
living for the moment, cracking the whip,
driving the poor, the disabled and vulnerable,
to their untimely deaths, because they were fragile.

Ian Duncan Smith, his eyes betray the feeling of joylessness,
a disregard for peoples feelings, with an arrogant air, an ugly streak,
he can be found where  dark shadows crawl and nightmares lurk,
releasing the pain of nastiness, without pang of regret or care,
making life unbearable, giving life to misery, from his hollow lair.

Ian Duncan Smith does not listen, as faraway winds howl,
and the tears keep on falling, as he goes on the prowl, 
pouring spite on broken spirits, releasing platitudes of austerity,
cut and cut, is a manouevre he has long practiced, as we scream and cry,
a liar of the first order, having lied about his education, and his army career.

Ian Duncan Smith plays the devil's tune,
as he blames us, and shames us with his words,
we must find the strength to fight against his ideas,
carry on, resisting, pushing back, against his verbal diarrheas, 
until  his empty gestures, disappears in the clarity of light.

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