What's Changed? Nothing's Changed Poem by Mark Heathcote

We've had years of those knock-kneed charlatans on TV
them shape-shifting, politician's-rubbing their gleeful hands
it isn't in any order to clean them or disinfects them.
It's just a way of congratulating or terminating themselves.
When answering our own denials, our unanswered demands.
We've survived despite our fumbling incompetent selves.
We've survived the hypocrisies of so many untold lies.
We've endured voter's apathy; let them bemoan
they've seen through our disguise our faceless masks.

What's changed?
Nothing's changed; we're still the guardians of power.

Listen, can you hear the clank of loosening shackles?
As school and church bells ring out once more
Listen, can you hear that low hesitant applause
as lockdown slowly ends the people again mingle
-and meet their long-forgotten friends and relatives.
Their tears are like frozen independence bunting-
festooned from street corner to street corner.
The entire length of the world in these ends that is tied
but will never truly meet to tie a knot of brotherhood.

What's changed?
Nothing's changed; a dog needs its master's leash.

Life will forever pull drive frantically forward…
like some stuttering car pushed downhill, accelerating
without any brake fluid and an inebriated driver
asleep, bent over the steering wheel, still adamant
he'll make it home—somehow, one way or another?
Covid-19 vaccinated, it's now time the body recovered
got a full MOT and delivered on what has been long promised.
A life of drudgery, paying back a loan we never borrowed.
A mortgage assigned to all eternity in our children's name.

What's changed?
Nothing's changed; they're still the guardians of our restless peace.