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Rishi Sunak: Free Up Your Money & Send Me To Rwanda

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Skendong Poetry

Send Me To Rwanda

The Safety of Rwanda Act 2024.
I scratch my head while reading.

Soon enacted by an ailing King,
The muse hit me.
I’m free versing.

I was born in England,
My mother from Jamaica.
After World War 2,
She’s deemed a saviour.
British streets paved
With Wagadugu gold?
As she arrived, they cried
“Go back home!”

But she was strong,
The wind rushed through.
Whose hands and minerals
Built Empires of the West?
Mancunian accent,
A grown man now –
I’m the epitomy of English,
Deterred but not a guest.

So, hey Rishi Sunak,
You can send me to Rwanda,
Home of my ancestors
Kidnapped from Africa.
I’ve been to Touba in Senegal
And Jufureh in The Gambia,
But wouldn’t mind chilling
With a mountain gorilla,
Or the golden monkeys
Living in Virunga.

But when I looked it up
It would cost five grand.
The deportation scheme,
Half a billion pounds.
How many British
Could that employ?
Jobs for the people,
Forget this ploy.
Home Office workers
Processing claims and

After horror stories
Most migrants should remain –
In this colourful nation
Which I’m a part of.
The Government is crooked,
But some people I do love.

I’m scratching my head
At this small tetchy brown man.
First Asian Prime Minister
Micro-managing this plan.
He’s there by default
Because disgraced Liz Truss,
And because his parents
Were given grace –

Just like my parents,
It’s not about race,
But he’s racing to the top,
He has no face.
Trying to leave a legacy,
The troubling thing is:
The world eyeing his policy
We, the cost of living.

Through the grapevine,
America might decree –
Southern border migrants
Sent to Haiti.
Or Israel might designate
Palestinian refugees,
Bombed to smithereens
But soon Lebanese.

Denmark plotted initially
This Rwanda plan.
They’re tied up by Europe,
Apparently humane.

From the lord to the commons,
From the commons to the lords,
From the lords to the commons.
Now the policy is here.

If I was ever the first
Black Prime Minister
My declaration would be –

On the cold cobbled stones
Of Number 10, holding
To the sky my assegai spear,
Before the clicks and microphones
Justice is laid bare:

“All who survived that perilous journey –
You’re most welcome here.”

What?

“All who survived that perilous journey –
You’re most welcome here.”

Another Poem by Skendong: UK Covid-19 Inquiry: It’s All About The Money

Skendong

Author Skendong

Metamorphosing Clunky Narratives

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