Saturday, 12 March 2016


Imagine no one ever told you it wasn't possible.
Imagine no one ever told you you were wrong.
Imagine no one ever laughed at you, dancing, singing, dreaming.
Imagine no one ever ignored your curiosity.
Imagine no one ever told you to be quiet.

Imagine you still believed in yourself.
You could run and run with your kite trailing on the ground and believe in the power of your laughing knees and take flight.
Just imagine.

Jeremy Hunt

Jeremy Hunt,
you bear the brunt of the NHS,
like it is nothing.
Named in the suicide note of a Junior Doctor,
still no weight on your mind.
You sleep like a baby.
Her name was Rose Polge.

Forging on against the wishes of millions,
like its yours to do with what you want when its not, it's ours.
Forcing it to its knees so you can say the only humane thing to do is kill it.
Jeremy Hunt and Kill and Feast.
Profiteering from pain, illness and death.
Health a privilege of wealth,
a privilege I couldn't bear if my sister couldn't have it.
Jeremy Hunt, they call you Jeremy Cunt.
I don't like it.
Cunts are givers of life