Upon Westminster
Godzilla! Thou shoulds’t be living at this hour.
Britain hath need of thee. We have a sty
of chancers folk elected, God knows why,
since all they do is help the rich devour
our substance. Noses troughward, how this shower
– shits, shysters, ministers, drones and members – lie
openly on the BBC and Sky,
careless who loses what, so they keep power.
Great One, arise from out the English Channel!
Stir with thy thrashing tail the Thames! Lay bare
their chummy Chambers: let the chilly air
blow through their threadbare consciences, asleep
on padded benches. Shred with thy claws their flannel;
pound them, confound them, drown them fathoms deep!
Judith Taylor grew up in Perthshire, downwind of a chicken packing plant. She lives and works in Aberdeen, where she is one of the organisers of the monthly Poetry at Books and Beans events. Her first full-length collection, Not in Nightingale Country, was published in 2017 by Red Squirrel Press, and she is one of the Editors of Poetry Scotland magazine. http://sometimesjudy.co.uk/
new boots and pantisocracies 