The day Himmler came to Stoke,

to express his views and pull up a chair

in the centre of Hanley town centre,

was a day in which we should remember,

February 2017, ferret like face, swivelling eyes,

and ideas in his head that would

make his party, modern S.S.

clap and cheer and spread their venom with cheer,

some demurely suggesting that whilst he is extreme

he is speaking their language, that they believe in him;

now,

I’d expect it of the crew cut little islander, one race

in their heads, purity…It truly makes you

want to vomit over him, spray him repeatedly

with cockroach spray

until he squirms back under his unstable and dank rock,

I would expect it of the crass and the unimaginative

to follow such a man, a person of unsound character,

this Himmler, rotten to the core, harbouring hate,

harbouring nonsense, ah Himmler, you diseased

carrier of regurgitated bullshit,

too late for the Reichstag, instead

plots British politics

from an address in the area of Stoke;

foul

craven

and weak,

Himmler,

I own cockroach spray.

 

Ian D. Hall 2017