The Westminster Wolves

A poem that first came to me seeing the beefed up patrols in the Channel, and echoes I heard from that in the media.

Gun metal grey
The border patrol sit
In a fortified lifeboat
Hunting for prey

The scout for the wolf pack
Which sit back
Eager for the substance
To fuel their next attack

The scavengers sit by
Waiting for scraps
That from feasting and fighting
Are oft to fly

The stench burns the nose
As all to easily
These insecure carnivores use it
And fears seeds it sows

Fear is a plague
An invasive species
A poisonous weed
Against sanity and treaties

Antidotes only work
If they are taken
Situations only improve
If the right words are spoken

So, fear's spell is unbroken
As in the shadow of it's dark bloom
The wolve's gestures are token
And violent polarities shatter delicate realities

But life in the wolf pack is bloody
And loyalties often quite muddy
We can only pray
That reason has the biggest roar

And as it drives the wolves
To the floor
The scavengers will get the grand feast
They've been waiting for

Dave James Horn ©