How Swift

We forget

that there was a time

that satire was preserved

for the throats of the pompous,

the lofty with copper bust

on show

in Halls or outside churches,

seeming pious in their pose

and their place in history texts assured,

satire was preserved for them,

satire, let’s eat the rich,

for in their taste for blood,

the Chingford Iain, teeth bared

pumping fist

now uses the poor for fuel,

the disabled to further his cause

of a bright beautiful future,