The New Clothes – a poem

We nod and agree that the Emperor

Is wearing exquisite clothes.

The best clothes.

He’s the most fashionable Emperor

We’ve ever been blessed with.

We love him.

We nod, and agree that if we are poor

It is our fault for not trying harder.

The Emperor says we would all be wealthy

If we weren’t so lazy.

When we die on waiting lists

Die on trolleys outside A&E

Die because the drugs are too expensive

For the likes of us, we nod, and agree

That the Emperor is not to blame.

We should have chosen healthier lifestyles.

When our children are driven to suicide

By the Emperor’s new exam strategy

And those who survive can’t find work enough

To live on and will never own homes

We nod, and agree when the Emperor says

It is because of foreign people.

The Emperor’s new Brexit is going well

These are the sunny uplands and if

We aren’t living the dream, we have

Only ourselves to blame – that and the Remoaners

Who ruin it all with their negativity.

We nod, and agree that it is their fault, and our fault.

The Emperor cannot be blamed if we refuse

To fulfil our true potential.

Where is our heroic urge to die trying?

Why do we not sacrifice ourselves

For the greater good? It is such a small thing to ask.

The Emperor stands before us in his

Staggeringly expensive and truly impressive new clothes

And tells us to try harder. We nod and agree.

What do we know?

No one wants to admit they can’t see his remarkable suit

Can see his sagging Y fronts while everyone else

Sees what they are told to see.

We dare not, must not say we have wondered

If the Emperor knows full well he stands before us

In just his pants while his propaganda squad

Fawn over the elegant cut of his fictional suit.

We’ve all seen him smiling.

What if the Emperor knows full well

He has no clothes on

But if we nod and agree with this

We’ll nod and agree with anything

We don’t want to look like fools or failures.

Nod and agree, suffer willingly

Work harder for our most beloved Emperor

In his oh so beautiful new clothes.

About Nimue Brown

Druid, author, dreamer, folk enthusiast, parent, polyamourous animist, ant-fash, anti-capitalist, bisexual steampunk. Drinker of coffee, maker of puddings. Exploring life as a Pagan, seeking good and meaningful ways to be, struggling with mental health issues and worried about many things. View all posts by Nimue Brown

4 responses to “The New Clothes – a poem

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