You (A Fragment)

You stalk nightmares and facebook feeds,
the sort of woman who agrees
with posts about benefits cheats
having enough - too much! - to eat.

You'd round them up and put them down,
given your way, go town to town
with a whip in your hand and drown
the witches, beat them black and brown.

You'd put them to work or to death,
take them all off their crystal meth,
and serve them right via wrong, the eff-
-ing wastes of skin and bones and breath.

You'd take away flat screen T.V.s
right left and centre, them that pleased
could work for them or feel the squeeze
of deserved famine and disease.

You'd tell them to get on their bikes
on the road to work, SCRAM!, the tykes,
and watch the ups and ups and spikes
of profit-graphs go take a hike

up North. You'd wall in North and South
today and tomorrow and mouth

librettos by Wagner and wave
fascist handgestures of the cave

as though the candle wasn't there
and switch off people's wireless air
and set and check and re-set snares
to catch the bludgers unawares.