At last - the liberal world's poet laureate Benjamin Zephyr Zodiac breaks his silence!

Me poems ryhme, mostly.
Me speak for a generashun,
In a celebrashun, of de miscegenashun,
That has bring we unto de mighty multicultural vibrashun,
Dat ghetto by ghetto, street over street,
Gwan redefine wot we mean by "Nashun"

An' dat'n dat is a good t'ing.
Yo! Me mean you, whitey!
We got yo' numbah!
We gwan protest to de beat of de reggae music an' to a lesser extent de rumbah
Oop agin you!!
Posh Cameron, Osboy, Boris too
And de Tory cuts
An' Marshall Kuts.
From de Boer War.
From which me African bruddas' wounds is still bleeding sore.
And what's more.
Amtritsar.
Whe' we bear de scar,
Of our Indian bruddads' mass slaughter.
An' give no quarter.
Fe de sake of I an' I son n' daughter.
Which is called Duwayne an' Shazzeelle

An' to de Ambassador of Paraguay
Don' gwan deny
Dat you have Julian in chains of represshun,
In a state of deppreshun
In a small tomb.
An' not much room.
Neither.

Him mus gwan fightin' a cause dat is right and mighty
But him shiverin' in him nighty,
With not much heating.
Like in Sweden.
Where him might go.
I an' I say No. No. No.
To extradishun.
Dis is not which we am wishin'.

Sweden gwaan be cold an' cruel as I would say
An' all de Swedish wimmin
Wait fe
To gib evidence
Of varying degrees of relevance
Fe to make Julian do some penitence
Jus cos him hold him body parts agains'
Dem.
Allegedly.

But meanwhile here.
In dis land of brutalisashun
How de Rasta an' him Ashun bruvvas gwan stop de fightin' ovah de gang territorialishun?
An' no cause any mo' inter-rashul cranial abrashun?

Actually. Me have no clue.
Me just award winning hack poet dat only de Guardian takin' seriouuss.
Peace Rasta
Peace Ashun type peeple.
Bluud in a Babylon.
Raas Claat in Ashia an' ting.

Mebbe dis gwan will lead us
To our destashun
Of glory to Jah
Where de train of injustice
Gwan be delayed fe 23 minutes outside Surbiton Stashun
By snow on de line.
An den head into de sidings of despair.
Behind time.
And the Sub-Regional Manager of Fate
Gwan charge excess fare
In Heaven.
Or down dere.

While de Inner-City express of hope.
Go chug chug, n' woo woo.
Passing thru'
Down de line.
On time.
We must not worship idolatry,
As we enter the Terminus of Equality
Til we meet our fate.
Expressed as an average annual figure and with relevant indicative seasonal weather factors taken into account,
Seven and a half minutes late

An' de Ticket Collector of Righteousness
Get off him knees
An' he will him say,
"Tickets to Eternity in an orderly line please.
Hope dere is dis day"

Rise up Bruddas!

Raas Claat. in a Babylon
An' t'ing.

Untitled (2013), Benjamin Zephyr Zodiac