A Plague On All Your Houses Poem by Mary Champion

Hustled, like pebbles in a rushing stream,
no firm foothold; no secure resting place.
Tumbling over in a merciless race;
stupefied by relentless change, we seem
mere pawns of some unknowable regime.
Rough edges smoothed as we jostle for space-
so, we lose our individual face.
No asylum where chaos reigns supreme.

Then power to the powerless they grant -
the choice to choose, to overturn this hell;
and build ourselves a human world instead.
We spurned their mocking and their doomsday cant,
but cast upon these banks, trapped where we fell,
now ruthless giants crush us as they tread.

APRES BREXIT