Pitiful

The British parliament was recalled early on the 18^th of August, 2021 to discuss what they saw as the crisis in Afghanistan, when it was more of a British crisis. 

This mother-of-parliaments practised its democracy as a colonial/imperialist pit—full of stinging scorpions and a hissing snakes who have missed their target. Dreary Kier anaconda Starmer arose from his log-like sleep, after having crushed the socialists in the Labour party, to demand human snacks in Afghanistan. Feathered, chicken-skinned headed Boris Johnston flapped his way out of reach of the anaconda and made a meal of him, as they read from the same menu. Meanwhile, some of the scorpions, who had fatally stung innumerable dollar-a-daypeople in Afghanistan, seemed to have forgotten the scorpion gunship attacks on wedding and funeral gatherings in which 30 people at a time were wedded forever to death.

Many scorpions lost legs despite the fact that scorpions, and not a few snakes, are entitled to go to anywhere in the world to invade and kill. This brought a hurricane of rage from this very focused and unusually crowded chamber-pit, who full of themselves, had no room, in their fevered brains, for the many victims they caused in Afghanistan, though they did latch on to the few enemy-made victims, people who had adopted neo-liberalism as collaborators.  

No one pointed out, that in order to keep your sanity, you don’t do the same thing four times, like invading, and hope for a winning solution. Parliament yesterday could be a frightening experience for the oppressed and the about-to-be oppressed. It was teeth, claws, stinging appendages and pumping venom. It was Murder Incorporated.

Queen Victoria would have been amused and reassured in her values. 

Wilson John Haire. 20 August, 2021.   A Prose Poem.