Prorogation

 

‘Prorogation’ sounds quite benign,

A farming term perhaps,

Something not quite malign.

But no, it’s far from this,

Not tilling the soil, nor planting crops,

To assume it so would be quite remiss.

It’s a word of which I’ve never heard,

Never come across a page of mine,

(If it had, I’d be quite a nerd!)

But now we all know this little noun,

It’s come out of the shadows

And ridden straight into our London town.

It’s now a weapon in a desperate game,

As shutters fall at democracy’s door,

And respect for parley, dissolved in flame.

It’s not legit at this this time of woes,

To wash away the sands of time

And straight jacket on us all impose.

So lie away as you feel the need,

We’ll not on your falsehoods feed.

A dictator’s dictionary you have used,

And our representation you’ve abused.

​

© Keith Murphy