The House of Commons
A chamber for the boorish and unwise,
A diner for the infantile and desperate,
A congregation of ego and fear.
One thinks they hold victory
Their voice picked up by the camera,
A sad and oafish cry of ‘loser’s weepers’
Or, occasionally, nothing more
Than a beastly grunt or theatre howl.
Snide smiles and cravings for power,
Each believing they have the answers.
They all lie within the tight fist of the people
Who hold a power that they could only dream of.