Margaret Thatcher’s veins are filled
with formaldehyde, and the fluids
from her body have already been
flushed away into the sewers to
be savored by the joyful rats -
(unless the fluids have been
preserved in the Canopic Jars)
But, let us remember, that
Margaret Thatcher was at least
honest about her hatred for us -
for ‘Society’ … in the arms of her
lover Reagan as the welfare
state was gone with the wind -
better than the Golden Syrup
boy who smiles in our faces,
while he destroys our world -
mocks us with a ‘Big Society’
For every time, there is a season -
A time to love – and a time to hate -
Let us relish in our hate, but raise a
glass to the Iron Lady who taught
us – with the Sex Pistols
(Thatcher’s background music)
again to hate, but perhaps not
in the manner that she intended -
Margaret Thatcher becomes an
icon of negativity, in the manner
of other satellite puppets like Pinochet.
Jesus, the suicide, counseled after all… love thy enemies….
The death of a great enemy calls for a great celebration,
there will be a festival of death
there will be remembrance
there will be joy
