Tuesday 2 January 2024

poem 230

 

House of Lords drinks champagne 

upon all the pain, that falls like rain 

to harts of the poor, kept on the floor

Until these invisible chains made, drain 

all that was human in you, noble gained 

and with out shame, make you pay

for the horror, your whole life became 


https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2024/jan/02/champagne-worth-90000-bought-in-house-of-lords-last-year-foi-data-shows

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