A Politic Poem to Ms Braverman
Suella was ever blatant but never a Braverman
Of Indian persuasion, she embraced the unholy land.
Where black was never right and brown was plainly wrong
Suella chose Cruella as her immigration song.
Bleating of Rwanda and dreams of planes aloft
Sheep, like her sheep-like targets, waving migrants off.
Chewing on her cuddish, though not the Jewish noun
They primed to drink the pumping of her verbal sewage down.
Ever so ironic, because Suella saved her worst
for those who shared her history but present in reverse.
Stop the rot invasion with these swarmers to our shores!
Gnazi-sounding grhetoric masking fascist undertones.
A conservative homish secretary, forgetting her own home
Braverman rising braverly on the House of Common’s tomes.
Bones of her ancestors, foundations built on lies
Eloquently slating those elitist types despised.
One wonders what might be the point, Suella’s arching aim
To prove herself as worthy in the xenophobic game?
Yet those she hopes to sway to right, and gain approval from
Will see her as the clown of brown, just an Indian Uncle Tom.
