Black Holes
I’m a black hole; all ideas
Are sucked into my throbbing maw –
I’ve made a dozen great careers
By soaking every sort of poor:
I’ve left them at a food bank, broke,
And let their lives go up in smoke.
I’m a black hole; I insist
That I deserve my weight in shares –
This country needs an iron fist,
And half-a-dozen pious prayers.
Computer blanks them for six weeks?
More pepper on my wild boar cheeks.
A black hole, and a vacuum too,
My gravitas is massive – geddit?
I swallow light like lobster stew.
I give you Universal Credit –
Let all grow thin, while I grow fatter:
Of glitches, I insist – no matter.
We black holes must in time collide:
A back-street poison is our tipple.
We all believe in regicide –
We like to cause a major ripple.
The poor are simply commonplace:
Our real work’s in outer space.
Click here for a Guardian story
Click here for an Independent story
